Secrets of Your Cells: Discovering Your Body's Inner Intelligence (15 page)

Figure 4.1
Spiderweb illustrating a similar design as the cellular cytoskeleton

The degree of tension on the matrix of the cell regulates the cell’s expression and destiny.
²
Stretching taut triggers one genetic message and outcome; letting go of some tension initiates another message and outcome. Same genes, same internal intelligence—different future. This process of balancing forces and tension is a universal law of design called
tensegrity.
³
Tensegrity guides the pattern of human-made structures, cells, and even complex tissues. We find it in buildings and atoms, spiderwebs, stars, and molecules (see
figures 4.1
–
4.3
).

DEFINITION

Tensegrity:
Refers to any physical structure that stabilizes and supports itself by balancing opposing forces of tension and contraction. Structures are stabilized mechanically by balancing internal and external forces.

Figure 4.2
Buckminster Fuller’s geodesic dome, Toronto, Canada

The term was constructed from “tensional integrity” by architect-futurist Buckminster Fuller to describe situations in which push and pull have a win-win relationship.
⁴
Bucky used it to build his famous geodesic domes, the most stable of human-built structures (see
figure 4.2
).

Donald Ingber, when taking a design class as an undergraduate biology student in the 1970s, learned about sculptures that relied on tension to hold long tubes together and create stable forms. As he contemplated this, he had an intuition that cells, too, must be tensegrity structures. Now a Harvard professor, Dr. Ingber has put tensegrity on the map of cellular design, regulation, and intelligence. At a biological level, tensegrity allows us to comprehend how changes in shape and mechanical strain influence cellular choices and actions.

Had I not experienced a moment of synchronicity, I might have overlooked this important aspect of the cell altogether. It was 1998, decades after I had studied biology, when I was in a bookstore perusing popular magazines. Two articles at opposite ends of the shelf attracted my attention: one in the
Yoga Journal
and the other in
Scientific American.
Both used the Fuller-coined term
tensegrity,
which I had never heard before. One of the articles, written by Carlos Castaneda, concerned ancient practices he referred to as
tensegrity movements,
which were said to alter human consciousness.
⁵
The other, by Dr. Ingber, delved into the very architecture of life. He described the cell as having a tensegrity structure that guides its decision-making abilities. The notion that this architectural principle could be at work in both the microscopic stuff of which our bodies are made and in our consciousness came as a revelation.

Figure 4.3
Tensegrity (cytoskeleton) in actual cell – (mouse embryonic fibroblast line) represented by the long thread-like structures; the dark round in the upper right is the nucleus; image by Feldman, M. E., et al.

The Architecture of Life—Cellular Mastermind

This remarkable architectural design as it manifests in living cells is the
cytoskeleton.
Likened to the cell’s muscle and bones, the cytoskeleton is the scaffolding that connects all parts of the cell. It also prevents the cell from collapsing on itself. This cytoskelton matrix transports molecules, coordinates information, and regulates genetic expression. With the ability to balance the push-pull of the cell, it is the newest biological candidate for the seat of cellular intelligence as well as the seat of consciousness.
⁶

Figure 4.4
A drawing of the cytoskeleton fabric; image by Slim Films

Many scientists still contend that the cell’s intelligence is housed in its genes. Yet genetic intelligence is simply a vast text of chemical codes constructed from long, spiraling molecules of DNA. The text provides recipes for making the necessary protein ingredients for life—yet who, and where, is the “cook”? Some critical thinkers maintain that we could get closer to the cook—and our dynamic cellular intelligence—if we investigated how our cells are built instead of deciphering their genes. Put another way, in cellular communities, our genes are the plans; the cytoskeleton is the mastermind.

Noted scientist Dr. Bruce Lipton took cellular intelligence to the next level—beyond our genes to the receptors on the cell “mem-brain.” Here we discover that cellular intelligence is carried in the interplay between receptors and the cytoskeleton.

Let’s imagine shrinking ourselves until we are tinier than the cell itself so we can examine this fabric and inner scaffolding; Nobel Prize winner Christian de Duve would call us cytonauts—sailors inside the cell. To enter the sanctuary of the cell, we must first sail past the quivering receptors on the outside surface. Once inside, the sound of thousands of miniscule maneuverings attracts our attention. As we pause to listen, we observe the large “heart,” or nucleus, at the cell’s center. We may even hear the humming of hardworking energy generators, the mitochondria. Experimenting with the surface beneath our feet, we begin to gently bounce as if on a trampoline. Below us we see nothing but the translucent, gelatin-like cytoplasm. Looking closer, we notice tiny shimmering strings and tubes throughout this “Jell-O” holding us up and reaching throughout the cell. When we move, the strings respond. If we bounce or step lightly on one part of the cell, the rest of the cell adjusts to the change in tension. This dynamic, vibrating matrix is the true mastermind of cell intelligence.

The cytoskeletal fabric is composed of three different kinds of organized proteins: fat tubes (microtubules); skinny microfilaments; and long, willowy intermediate filaments. Acting as struts and pulleys, these vibrating filaments, tubes, and strings permeate the cell like a web. Each exerts the power to direct, manage, and coordinate cellular behavior.

Scientists have known for decades that microtubules help cells move, change shape, and divide, but only recently have we learned that they are also partners in managing cellular tension. And
a change in tension affects genetic expression
and, hence, cell abilities. Simply said,
alterations in the cell’s physical state can alter its genes.
A cell that is stretched out, for example, has a different fate from one that is balled up—even though they contain the same genetic information. When pulled, pushed, plucked, or released, cellular scaffolding manifests different abilities and genetic programs. This dynamic interplay of forces keeps the cell “listening” to “choose” what to do next.

Signals felt like a pebble dropping on the surface of a pond, waves send responses inside the cell, so that the message can be heard.

Then silence, waiting for action or further listening.

— CHRISTOPHER VAUGHAN
How Life Begins

Shifting Attention

Let’s consider this further. Cells change shape and tension. They may stiffen or relax, and each physical state affects what the cell can do. For example, when an immune scavenger cell receives a tug—let’s say, a message of bacterial invasion—it responds instantly. Elongating its usual spherical shape, it moves deliberately toward its prey. Upon meeting the invader, the cell attaches to it with sticky proteins, changing shape again to wrap around the intruder to eliminate it. This response requires the membrane receptors to recognize danger (that is, “not self”) and attach, while the fabric inside the cell responds and coordinates the cell’s activities.

Another shape changer, the microtubules, continually dismantle and rebuild about every ten minutes so that our cells are in a constant state of change and readiness, rebuilding to respond.
⁷
This also shows how flexible we and our cells are in allowing change. (See
plate 1
in the color insert for a cell photograph of a human white blood cell (phagocytic neutrophil) recognizing and going after red blood cell from another species.)