The human brain, it turns out, is far more adaptable than we often give it credit for. In fact, its plasticity is almost unbelievable. A French neurologist once documented a patient who, after losing 70% of his brain due to a fluid buildup, continued to live with normal cognitive abilities and daily functionality. Blind individuals, too, often experience remarkable shifts in their other senses, with some developing extraordinary musical talents, like perfect pitch, or heightened sensitivity to touch, sound, and smell.

Yet, despite its astonishing flexibility, the brain’s capacity is not limitless. The connections between neurons, though numerous, have their constraints. Vision, for instance, demands a huge chunk of our brain’s resources, leaving less room for other senses to flourish. This becomes even clearer when you speak with AI specialists who use powerful GPUs to train machines in visual recognition—systems that, like us, devote a substantial amount of processing power to vision. But, when vision is compromised—say, through blindness—a fascinating thing happens: a third of the brain’s cortex, once dedicated to sight, can be rewired to amplify other sensory experiences, like the appreciation of music.

This evolution of vision as our primary sense was driven by survival and mating advantages. But in focusing so much of our brainpower on what we see, we may have unwittingly sacrificed “superpowers” like perfect pitch, photographic memory, or the kinds of cognitive agility that allow us to process language with lightning speed.

Take the case of a patient Oliver Sacks described, who suffered from synesthesia, a rare condition where senses overlap and are perceived simultaneously. After a brain injury robbed him of his sight and his ability to visualize colors, he began to “see” colors when he heard music. The brain’s auditory centers, previously dedicated to sound, were rewired to evoke the sensation of color instead.

We also have the capacity to actively “train” our brains to enhance certain senses. Just as a form of active meditation can elicit feelings of intense euphoria—like the catharsis of a musical crescendo—frequent stimulation of a particular sensory or cognitive activity strengthens it. This idea is supported by the brain’s plasticity: the more you engage a part of your mind, the more it grows, almost like building muscle.

So, given that sensory activities often compete for our brain’s precious bandwidth, how do you choose to allocate your mental resources? How do you divide your mind’s attention between what makes you feel joy and what pulls you into anxiety? Would you devote 70% of your cognitive capacity to experiencing the bliss of music, art, and nature, igniting creativity and vitality? Or would you choose to use it to scroll through endless newsfeeds, dwelling on worries, fears, and negativity?

It’s no surprise that many deep thinkers—those who spend time in solitude—tend to have a rich inner life, though not exclusively. They’re able to nourish their senses and creativity with less distraction (again, not exclusively). Meanwhile, those addicted to constant social interaction may find themselves caught in fluctuating emotional states, able to blend in with anyone but too distracted to spend time thinking deeply. Exceptions do exist, and a hybrid type between the two is fairly common too. The way we choose to divide our mental energy speaks volumes about how we experience and navigate the world around us.