Reflecting on my family’s journey, I often ponder: what truly shapes identity? For many of us, this question remains unanswered—fluid, layered, and deeply tied to the connections we share with those around us. Within my family, I’ve observed how neurodivergence intertwines with identity, creating patterns that ripple across generations in fascinating ways.
The work of researcher Geoff Bird on the Mirror Neuron System (MNS) and others has profoundly broadened my understanding of these connections. Bird’s hypothesis—that the MNS is shaped through associative learning rather than innate mechanisms—offers a new perspective on how we learn and mirror each other within family bonds. His rejection of the Broken Mirror Theory, which ties social difficulties in autism to deficits in the MNS, encourages a broader view of neurodivergence as a process of adaptation and individual expression (Bird et al., 2014).
Additionally, research by Rizzolatti and Craighero (2004), pioneers in the discovery of the MNS, emphasises the system’s role in understanding actions and intentions through observation. Their work aligns with Bird’s hypothesis, highlighting how mirroring behaviours emerge through learned associations, even in the absence of direct imitation.
These ideas resonate deeply as I reflect on the journeys of my family members—Jaime, Jay, Vek, and my son, Oscar—each offering unique insights into this interconnected web of identity and neurodivergence.
Jaime: A Mathematical Expression of Self
Jaime’s journey reflects self-discovery through deliberate change. Choosing their name feels like an act of conscious expression—balancing complexity and clarity, much like a mathematical equation.
JA = Me, Mum & Dad (Jane & Jarrad) We are all the same
I = Myself as an individual
ME = As in my family
When viewed through my lens this decision mirrors the unseen threads of neurodivergence in families, it’s as though Jaime’s search for authenticity reflects a broader familial pattern. Their name is not just a label but a bridge between personal identity and shared connections, embodying the dynamic interplay of individual and collective experience.
Vek and Kevin: Mirroring Through Rejection and Reinvention
Vek (my mothers brother) had an extremely troubled relationship with my grandfather father (Pop as i knew him), which introduces a paradoxical layer to the concept of mirroring. Publicly, Vek has distanced himself from all memories his father, rejecting the way he and his siblings were raised and treated growing up. Yet, in what appears to be a subconscious response, his actions seem to echo his father’s influence. The most striking example is Vek’s choice of name, which appears an apparent subconcious anagram of his father’s name, Kevin. While this may not have been intentional, it reflects how familial ties can shape identity even when one seeks to break away from them.
I draw this conclusion based on the fact that Pop also changed his name and identity multiple times throughout his life. Born in the 1930s into an Irish Catholic family, he was the eldest of seven children. While I won’t delve into the complexities of those family dynamics here—that’s a story for another time—what’s particularly relevant is what happened in his early twenties. Not long after becoming a father to my mother, Kevin fled to Western Australia, abducting my mother in the process. In doing so, he not only left behind his old life but also his given name, reinventing himself as Daniel. For my mother, Helen, this was just the beginning of a period of unimaginable heartbreak and suffering, as it meant that she had now become forcefully separated from her own mother and family and ultimately, her identity.
This act of reinvention—whether driven by necessity, survival, or something deeper—feels eerily familiar when I think about Vek. The parallels between these stories is hard to ignore, yet the contrast between their choices is just as striking. Pop’s transformation was an escape, a severance from his past, a rejection of whatever truth he couldn’t bear to face. Vek, on the other hand, appears to be doing the opposite—not rejecting the past, but pulling it closer, deconstructing and rebuilding himself with conscious intent.
If mirroring is at play here, it’s not a simple reflection—it’s either distorted or inverted, like an image seen in rippling water. One man ran from his name, while another deliberately reshaped his own. Is Vek rejecting Pop’s pattern, refusing to let his identity be dictated by circumstances outside his control? Or is there an unconscious tether between them, each grappling with the same questions in their own time, but choosing different paths in response?
It makes me wonder—do we instinctively repeat the actions of those who came before us, or do we reject them so forcefully that we create something entirely new? And in doing so, are we breaking the cycle, or just bending it into another form?
This dynamic is further evident in Vek’s journey to embrace a trans identity—a conscious act of self-definition that seems to stand in stark contrast to his father’s values. Vek’s identity is shaped by opposition and reinvention, illustrating that mirroring is not always about replication. Instead, it can involve a reinterpretation of familial patterns, shaped by both conscious rejection and subconscious connection.
The MNS may provide a framework for understanding this complexity. Associative learning, a key feature of the MNS, could explain how Vek internalised certain aspects of his father’s influence, not to replicate them but to transform them into a narrative that fits his own sense of self. This interplay between rejection and connection underscores the nuanced ways familial dynamics influence identity.
Jay and Oscar: Mirroring Across Generations
Jay’s story highlights the role of mirroring in identity formation. Observing Jay, I noticed how he instinctively reflects the traits and behaviours of his father and brother. When viewed through my own neurodivergent lens it appears not as imitation or mirroring in the traditional sense but an unconscious process of learning and association that feels tied to the MNS. Studies by Dapretto et al. (2006) demonstrate that children with neurodivergent traits can show unique activation patterns in the MNS, influencing how they internalise the actions and emotional states of those around them.
During Jay’s stay with us over Christmas, I observed striking similarities between him and my son, Oscar. Their shared traits—mannerisms, preferences, even their presence—suggest a deeply rooted genetic potential for neurodivergence. Witnessing these parallels has been fascinating, offering a glimpse into how patterns ripple across generations and linked bloodlines.
Now, with Jay’s father (Ryan) staying with us, I also see similar mirroring in Oscar. Despite their age difference, Oscar subconsciously picks up on his uncle’s mannerisms, dress, eating habits, and preferences. These subtle behaviours demonstrate how neurodivergent traits and mirroring behaviours echo across familial relationships. Such unconscious mirroring aligns with findings that the MNS activates not only during direct observation but also in response to perceived social and emotional cues (Gallese et al., 2004).
Interconnectedness Through the Mirror Neuron System and Music
Music offers another lens to explore the MNS’s role in shaping identity and behaviour. Research suggests that the MNS is activated during rhythmic and auditory experiences, leading to involuntary physical responses like stimming—uncontrollable movements in response to the energy of music (Koelsch et al., 2006). For neurodivergent individuals, stimming often reflects an internal resonance with external stimuli, like the vibrations and emotional intensity embedded in music.
Interestingly, this can extend to mirroring behaviours influenced by the energy an artist brings to their recording. The MNS may facilitate a subconscious connection between the listener and the artist, translating the artist’s emotional and physical expression into a listener’s embodied experience. For example, the drive to move, sway, or tap in rhythm with music could be seen as a form of mirroring, linking the artist’s creative process to the audience’s physical and emotional response.
In my own family, and that of Jaime, Vek and Jay -- music has played an important part in our lives. In feeling it through the frequency of our lives, you can see how it often invokes involuntary responses, it's as if it reaches into our very souls or some parralel universe, to connect us all. Observing how my son and I both stim as we listen to our favourite song reminds me that mirroring is not limited to direct social interactions. It can also emerge as a powerful, subconscious reaction to art and sound—elements that carry the unseen energy of their creators. For me this adds another fascinating dimension.
A New Understanding of the Unseen Forces
As I reflect on these journeys, I am struck by the unseen forces that bind us. Music, art, and the rhythms of daily life create associations that shape who we are. These elements, while abstract, contribute to the tapestry of identity through sensory and emotional learning. The MNS plays a central role here, transforming external cues into internal experiences, whether through familial mirroring or the embodied responses evoked by music.
For my family, this interconnectedness is lived, not theoretical. It’s evident in how we mirror and learn from one another, navigate neurodivergence, and find meaning in shared experiences. Together, these stories remind me that identity is not static—it’s a continuous dance between the visible and invisible forces that shape our lives. A Hypothesis on Neurodivergent Belief Formation and Mirroring
If mirroring is at play here, it isn’t a straightforward reflection—it’s something more abstract, something that isn’t typically viewed in this way. It makes me wonder if belief formation in neurodivergent individuals follows a similar pattern—where instead of simply replicating what we see, we absorb, distort, and reconstruct it in ways that aren’t always obvious or linear.
For some, mirroring is direct—an unconscious shaping of self based on external influences. But for others, particularly those who are neurodivergent, it works differently. Instead of mimicking, we analyse. We break things down to their raw components, deconstructing experiences, behaviours, and even identities to understand how they work before deciding whether to embrace or reject them. It’s less like reflection and more like refraction—light bending through a prism, scattering into colours that weren’t immediately visible before.
This makes me think of not just Vek, but also Jaime and Jay—each of them engaged in their own form of identity deconstruction and reconstruction. Vek chose his name with precise intent, dismantling the identity he was given and rebuilding it into something that made sense to him. Jaime, too, reshaped their identity, but in a way that felt almost like an equation—each change an intentional piece of a greater formula, solving for a self that fit. Then there’s Jay, who has redefined his identity in a way that seems, at least on the surface, to be a direct rejection of his past self. Yet, I wonder if it’s actually the same process at work—an internal interrogation of what was handed down, before deciding what to keep and what to discard.
Could it be that all three of them, in their own ways, are engaged in a deeper form of pattern recognition? Rather than simply mirroring those who came before them, they are processing, reconfiguring, and ultimately reshaping their inherited narratives into something that feels more authentic. It’s not just about rejecting what doesn’t fit—it’s an active, deliberate transformation.
This would suggest that neurodivergent belief formation isn’t just about absorbing external influences, but about filtering, repurposing, and reconstructing them. We don’t just take what we see and accept it—we interrogate it. We run it through layers of logic, intuition, and emotion until it becomes something else entirely.
So maybe what looks like a rejection of a reflection is actually a different kind of mirroring—one that operates beneath the surface, hidden in the ways we reinterpret and redefine the choices of those who came before us. Perhaps it isn’t just a question of whether we follow in their footsteps or break away entirely. Maybe, instead, we are forever in conversation with the past, reshaping it as we go.
References
Bird, G., Leighton, J., Press, C., & Heyes, C. (2014). The Role of Associative Learning in Mirror Neuron System Development. Social Neuroscience, 9(3-4), 335-345.
Dapretto, M., Davies, M. S., Pfeifer, J. H., Scott, A. A., Sigman, M., Bookheimer, S. Y., & Iacoboni, M. (2006). Understanding Emotions in Others: Mirror Neuron Dysfunction in Children with Autism Spectrum Disorders. Nature Neuroscience, 9(1), 28-30.
Gallese, V., Keysers, C., & Rizzolatti, G. (2004). A Unifying View of the Basis of Social Cognition. Trends in Cognitive Sciences, 8(9), 396-403.
Koelsch, S., Fritz, T., von Cramon, D. Y., Müller, K., & Friederici, A. D. (2006). Investigating Emotion with Music: An fMRI Study. Human Brain Mapping, 27(3), 239-250.
Rizzolatti, G., & Craighero, L. (2004). The Mirror-Neuron System. Annual Review of Neuroscience, 27(1), 169-192.
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