Like their forerunners, post-Hellenistic doctors also grappled with the unclear boundaries between healthy versus pathologic sleep, and consciousness-unconsciousness. Furthermore, they incorporated new diseases and redefined others - like lethargy - that were specifically associated with this process. Celsus considered sleep as all-or-nothing phenomenon, without recognising different depths. Regarding mental capacities, he subsumed most of them in his idea of mens/animus. Aretaeus, on the other hand did conceive different depths of sleep, and his eclectic method enabled him to find alternative pathophysiological explanations to characterise several of its main features. Similarly, although his organization of mental capacities varied according to what he was explaining, the opposition gnômê-aisthêsis was important in his idea of mind.

Some Hippocratic doctors regarded sleep as a healthy process, and some as a pathological one; some of them struggled to distinguish between hallucinations and nightmares, and some between deep dreamless sleep and total loss of consciousness. This chapter explores how different treatises from the Hippocratic corpus navigated these ambiguities, how they explained different depth of sleep (i.e. different levels of consciousness), and how such understanding relates to their views on mental capacities (which they subsumed in concepts such as phronesis, sunesis, gnômê, and nous).

In face of the difficulty of establishing clear biological boundaries between sleep and the other forms of impaired consciousness, the sociological and anthropological analyses can provide hints as to where those limits were set in real life. The terminological analysis suggested a common feature that persisted throughout the different authors and periods: different levels of consciousness (from drowsy to hyperactive, and from delirium to koma) where always related to the impairment of mental capacities, regardless of the way in which each medical writer grouped or understood them.

Galen conceived sleep and wakefulness as a continuum that depended on the mixture of qualities within the ruling part of the puschê (the hêgemonikon) located in the brain. Naturally, in his system whenever pathological sleep occurred the doctor needed to determine if the brain was affected directly or by sympathy (from another organ), and the precise imbalance of qualities that needed to be counteracted by their opposites. His idea of mind was very accurately and hierarchically structured: it resided in the logical part of the soul, located in the brain, and several diseases with impaired consciousness compromised its normal functioning.

In this introductory chapter, I will outline what this book is about and aims to achieve, which is to continue what I started in a prequel book, A Mind for Language: An Introduction to the Innateness Debate (ML). Both books share the same central theme, namely the so-called Innateness Hypothesis for language, which is the conjecture proposed by the linguist Noam Chomsky many decades ago that children acquire language guided by an innate, genetically based mental system that is specifically dedicated to this task. Both ML and this book critically examine the arguments that have been used, or could be used, to support this idea. Where ML considered arguments coming from linguistics proper, the present book delves into arguments from neighboring fields that overlap with linguistics in various ways, including cognitive science and neurolinguistics. The chapter concludes with a review of the linguistic arguments in support of Chomsky’s innateness hypothesis that formed the focus of ML.

This chapter explores the phenomenon of embodiment, or how bodies vary because of their embeddedness in different cultural, social, and material landscapes. Understanding embodiment entails studying the influences of the social–cultural world on bodies, and the influences of biological processes on social, semiotic, and experiential worlds. Drawing on anthropological, feminist, and disability studies scholarship, and those in contemporary biological sciences, we offer some tools for thinking about how bodily states and processes are affected by their perception, representation, and treatment within people’s lived worlds, and vice versa. A processual, “bio-looping” model helps to explain how transformations of body and world in complex embodiment might work. Emerging empirical work in the biological sciences provides evidence for the deep entanglements of social and biological systems. The intersections among meaning and perception (“interoceptive affordances”) highlight how meaning shapes perception of bodily processes and sensations. Canna’s study of demonic possession illustrates how interoceptive affordances contribute to embodied experiences and ways of being in the world.

The chapter reviews and systematizes the scholarly work on how “language” and “narrative” shape culturally mediated psychological processes. A challenge is to consider framings that see “language” as either a cause or effect of “psyche,” framings that limit how we consider how “culture” or “ideology” mediate relationships between language and psyche. The authors develop an approach that considers temporal processes across which language, culture, and psyche are co-constituting. The approach systematizes a broad literature in terms of the varieties of co-constitution proposed for language, culture, and psyche: processes that privilege language or psyche in producing relatively stable relationships across time between these three terms, processes that privilege language or psyche in producing highly emergent relationships, and processes that imagine processes of mediation within interactional events, across events, and/or across generations and historical time. The framework unites discussions that have been disconnected, provides conceptual delimitations for that discussion, and highlights how psychological anthropologists can contribute to an interdisciplinary conceptual space.

The chapter chronicles the close relationship that anthropology, from its very outset as a discipline, had with psychoanalysis, and seeks to make a broader conceptual argument: namely that, over the decades, anthropologists moved from applying to their ethnographic material psychoanalytic concepts, which were generated in clinical settings by practicing psychoanalysts, to engaging themselves in psychodynamic encounters with their own interlocutors, and in so doing reaching the point of generating original theory of psychoanalytic value. This was possible due to the increasing conviction that the prime subject of psychodynamic investigation should not be any given society’s cultural material, interpreted and “analyzed” abstractly to deductively reach aprioristic inferences on the members of the respective community. Rather, the subject of such psychodynamic studies could only be the individual, analyzed from within the social norms, values, and idioms constraining the individual’s development. In turn, this idiographic study would yield invaluable elements necessary to adequately understand the dynamics of the social context in which the individual exists to begin with.

This chapter provides a brief overview of psychological anthropology as a subdiscipline in anthropology. It frames the development of psychological anthropology as a response to crises that emerged in anthropology more generally in the twentieth century and within psychological anthropology itself. There are three primary phases of development in the field, starting with Edward Sapir’s criticism of the “superorganic,” then the collapse of the “culture and personality approach” in the 1950s, and finally, both the interpretive and anti-colonial turns in the 1970s and 1980s. The chapter then summarizes the content of the handbook as a reflection of ways the field developed in the wake of the late twentieth-century and early twenty-first-century developments in anthropology.

Over the past three decades, catatonia research has experienced a remarkable renaissance, driven by the application of diverse methodologies and conceptual frameworks. This renewed interest has significantly reshaped our understanding of catatonia, a complex syndrome with multifactorial origins spanning epidemiology, historical context, phenomenology, genetics, immunology, and neurobiology. These advancements have offered a more comprehensive and nuanced perspective, culminating in the recognition of catatonia as a distinct diagnosis in the ICD-11 – a landmark development that underscores its clinical and scientific relevance. Despite these strides, several unresolved issues remain that require future research. Bridging these gaps is crucial not only to enhance our understanding of catatonia but also to identify the most effective treatments and uncover the mechanisms underlying their efficacy. Such advancements hold the promise of developing improved diagnostic markers and tailored therapeutic strategies, offering significant benefits to patients affected by this challenging condition. In this chapter, we explore the profound implications of catatonia research, spanning its impact on clinical psychiatry and neuroscience, as well as its broader contributions to our understanding of the intricate relationship between the brain and mind.

This chapter explores Marcus’ concept of the soul and its main cognitive parts (hēgemonikon, nous, dianoia, daimon) and their relevance for the construction of a concept of the self that is closely interwoven with Stoic self-care. It also investigates Platonic influence on Marcus’ concept of the mind and its relation with the body. Selfhood, understood as an entity referring to itself, unfolds around the hēgemonikon and, to a lesser extent, the dianoia. Self-reference by cognitive acts is limited to the logical soul. These three rational elements are subordinated to the ‘I’ (or psychagogic subject) and serve as objects of its psychagogic self-(trans)formation, thereby construing its selfhood. The perfect starting point for mental self-transformation in Marcus is hypolēpsis ‘assumption’, a single mental act, similar to Epictetus’ prohairesis ‘choice’, to which Marcus’ concept of mental selfhood is heavily indebted. Platonising rhetoric supports the delineation and detachment of the soul’s rational part (esp. nous) from external entities and subordinate mental phenomena but offers no evidence for a dualist psychology or metaphysical concept of the mind. Instead, Marcus’ concepts of mind and body abide by Stoic orthodoxy and its materialist monism.

Charles Brockden Brown’s Edgar Huntly (1799) narrates two scenes of panther attacks. In the first scene, Huntly’s mind is paralyzed, while in the second, Huntly’s body kills a stalking panther by hurling a tomahawk across a dark cave, an effort stemming from our bodily “constitution.” This introduction argues that this artist not only troubled the mind-centered ontology of consciousness—the Cartesian idea of the mind’s dominance over the body—but also explored the ontological alternatives that centered the expressions of our material body’s “constitution.” It both uncovers the posthumanist accents of this work, and reveals the way it prods us to refurbish posthumanism by historicizing it. Starting with Brown, this introduction thus recovers a set of texts focused on “minding the body,” on not simply eroding the philosophical distinction between the mind and body in order to trouble a mind-centered ontology and imagine a body-centered alternative to it, as posthumanism does. It also reveals the way artists used the expressive agency of these historical bodies to imagine less repressive alternatives to nineteenth-century structures of power—including chattel slavery, market capitalism, and patriarchy—whose claims to dominance involved reducing the body to little more than mindless matter.

As the providers of care work, women experienced the painful losses of male bodies during the Civil War acutely. This chapter explores the way Elizabeth Stuart Phelps used her works—particularly her successful sentimental novel, The Gates Ajar (1868)—to imagine faith as a way to manage this pain. Yet, Phelps’s popularity stemmed from the way her notion of faith also complicated the orthodox Calvinist belief in a disembodied spirit: an ontology premised on the soul’s difference from, and superiority to, the body. By developing what Phelps calls “spiritual materialism,” she puts the lived experience of embodiment at the very center of belief, not drifting or working between mind-centered and body-centered paradigms, as we have seen, but operating beyond them both at the level of faith. Precisely the way this re-embodied faith moves beyond mind-centered and body-centered ontologies allows Phelps’s sentimental novel itself to move beyond the restrictive gender politics of sentimentalism, “minding the body” to tell a less repressive story of domesticity and reveal a more capacious understanding of female desire.

Henry Box Brown not only mailed himself in a box from Richmond in Philadelphia in 1849, but he also remediated this experience of embodiment later in competing slave narratives, on stage, in a panorama, and through his role as a magician and mesmerist. In these four “acts,” Brown uses the representation of his experiences of Black embodiment across various media both to support and—simultaneously—to undercut the mind-centered ontology that structured the system of chattel slavery’s reduction of Blackness to mindless matter. Rather than imagine ontological drift, as Bird does, or ontological betweenness, like Forrest, Brown uses different representations of Black embodiment to imagine existence as always already ontologically doubled, as something governed by the mind-centered paradigm that demeans the body, and by the body-centered paradigm that makes the material body’s expressive agency crucial for the fullest articulation of humanity. Brown suggests that consciousness emerges simultaneously from the mind and the body, and that by carefully curating these overlapping, and doubled, forms of consciousness, Black subjects can “mind the body” in order to imagine alternatives to white culture’s dehumanizing of Blackness.

In his intensely physical acting, the nineteenth-century actor, Edwin Forrest, crafted a working-class theatrical aesthetic that imagined our existence not as drifting, but as ontologically between, an ontological third term distinct from both the mind-centered and the body-centered ontological paradigms. By recovering the way Forrest staged his own muscular—and white—body in his interpretation of Shakespeare’s Othello (1826) and in Bird’s The Gladiator (1831), this chapter argues that Forrest used the experience of his labored at, and laboring, body to perform this ontological betweenness as an alternative to the antebellum market’s alienation and regulation of working-class bodies. In staging the agency of white, working-class bodies against Black inagentic bodies on stage, Forrest’s performance of ontological betweenness “minded the body” by offering his adoring working-class audiences less alienated—but racially complicated—ways to perform their own material embodiment in the early nineteenth century.

This chapter explores the medically-trained writer, Robert Montgomery Bird, and his fraught experience of the way the competing ontological paradigms that inflected Edgar Huntly also conditioned early nineteenth-century medical discourse. Bird uses his picaresque novel, Sheppard Lee (1836), to interrogate what was called “regular” medical discourse and its mind-centered ontology, and to imagine instead the ontological possibilities that result from the body-centered ontology of metempsychosis. For Bird, metempsychosis involves our consciousness migrating from one body to another, and being defined by its different embodiment. In representing the lived experience of both white and Black embodiment, Bird uses metempsychosis to interrogate “regular” medicine’s mind-centered ontological paradigm, even as he puts pressure on “irregular” medicine as well. As I argue, Bird understands conscious existence as ontological drift, as I call it, a far less clear, but far more capacious ontology than either regular or irregular medical discourses entertain. By “minding the body” in this way, Bird uses his novel’s interrogation of the mind-body relationship to imagine a less repressive, but not unproblematic, form of racialized conscious existence in the antebellum period.

One of life’s most fundamental revelations is change. Presenting the fascinating view that pattern is the manifestation of change, this unique book explores the science, mathematics, and philosophy of change and the ways in which they have come to inform our understanding of the world. Through discussions on chance and determinism, symmetry and invariance, information and entropy, quantum theory and paradox, the authors trace the history of science and bridge the gaps between mathematical, physical, and philosophical perspectives. Change as a foundational concept is deeply rooted in ancient Chinese thought, and this perspective is integrated into the narrative throughout, providing philosophical counterpoints to customary Western thought. Ultimately, this is a book about ideas. Intended for a wide audience, not so much as a book of answers, but rather an introduction to new ways of viewing the world.

Abstract: By 2001, two years after approval, the new MassGeneral Institute for Neurodegenerative Disease (MIND) building was designed, built and opened. About 30 independent faculty laboratory heads occupied the laboratory floors. Each lab head had 5–15 people in their lab and in total about 300 people worked on the two main floors. Anne’s lab and office moved to MIND. Early on, she was still very depressed about Jack’s death and needed help to continue her research. Without Jack, Anne didn’t have enthusiasm or ambition. Zane Hollingsworth and Anne’s previous trainees, Jang-Ho Cha and David Standaert, helped Anne with her students, postdocs, technicians and grants. Anne was elected president of the American Neurological Association and then president of the Society for Neuroscience. Six years after Jack died, Anne received an email from her old eighth-grade and sometimes high school boyfriend, Stetson Ames. He was coming to Boston in May and asked Anne if she would like to meet. She and Stets eventually married. Anne inherited $2 million when her mother died, a million of which she donated to Mass General. Nancy Wexler began showing signs of Huntington’s disease. It was undeniable, but neither Anne nor Nancy could face the devastating possibility.