Study finds why poor sleep and high blood pressure may increase dementia risk

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New research links dementia to problems with the brain’s waste clearance system. Asya Molochkova/Stocksy

• The ‘glymphatic system’ — the flow of cerebrospinal fluid during sleep to flush out toxins and waste materials from the brain — plays an essential role in keeping the brain healthy.
• A new study, using MRI scans, found that people with cardiovascular risk factors that impaired the function of the glymphatic system had an increased risk of dementia.
• The researchers suggest that improving sleep patterns to enhance glymphatic system function and treating cardiovascular risks could both help reduce dementia risk.

The glymphatic system is a recently discovered waste clearance system, most active during sleep, that removes toxins and waste materials, including those associated with dementia, from the central nervous systemTrusted Source.

A new study has found that people with an impaired glymphatic system have a higher risk of developing dementia.

The study, published in Alzheimer’s & Dementia: The Journal of the Alzheimer’s AssociationTrusted Source, suggests that improving glymphatic function could be a powerful tool in reducing the risk of dementia.

“These findings are largely expected, building on a growing body of research that implicates impaired cerebrospinal fluidTrusted Source (CSF) dynamics, often referred to as the ‘glymphatic system’, in dementia. Animal studies have long shown that disrupted CSF flow hampers the clearance of toxic proteins such as amyloid beta and tau, which are central to Alzheimer’s disease pathology. What makes this study significant is that it provides large-scale, human-based evidence from over 45,000 participants in the UK Biobank, confirming that MRI markers of CSF dysfunction […] are associated with higher dementia risk.”

— Dr Steve Allder, consultant neurologist at Re:Cognition Health, who was not involved in the study.

HOLY SACRIFICE OF THE MASS IN DAVAO

 LIBUAN KA MGA ROMANO KATOLIKO, MIDUYOG SA ARCHDIOCESAN PENITENTIAL WALK AND HOLY SACRIFICE OF THE MASS SA DAVAO CITY …

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THOUSANDS OF ROMAN CATHOLICS JOINED THE ARCHDIOCESAN PENITENTIAL WALK AND HOLY SACRIFICE OF THE MASS IN DAVAO …

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Growing up means calling your mom first

 

At 16, I rolled my eyes. At 21, I text her everything.

Five years ago, I was convinced I had the world figured out. I was young, full of opinions, full of silence. I kept to myself, shut my door, answered questions with shrugs. I didn’t have the words for what I was feeling then, just a general restlessness, like I was trying to outgrow something too quickly. The easiest target was my mom. I was loud with my silence. And cruel with my distance.

I was raised by a single mother. She worked full-time but still woke up before the sun to make my breakfast and pack my lunch. She brushed my hair while I shuffled around looking for the missing pair of my socks. Every morning, she told me she loved me. Most mornings, I didn’t say anything back. I was always in a rush. At the time, it felt normal. Now I wonder what I was in such a hurry to leave behind.

There were years when I barely let her in. We used to go on Jollibee dates. I’d talk for hours while she listened, like the smallest things I said mattered. I don’t know when that stopped. At some point, I just started answering with “basta” when she asked about my day. Maybe I thought being independent meant being distant. It was as if turning 16 made me forget how to be a daughter. I thought needing my mom meant I wasn’t growing up fast enough, and I was so desperate to prove that I could stand on my own.

Now I’m 21 and living in Manila, and I think about her more than I ever expected to. I make my own meals, do my own laundry, and go to class with bags under my eyes and a to-do list I never finish. And somehow, in this busy, messy version of adulthood, I find myself needing her more than ever. When I shuffle around my apartment looking for my socks, I think of her. When I’m sick and there’s no one to nag me to take medicine, I think of her. When I sit in silence after a long day, it’s her voice I want to hear.

We talk more now than we did then. I call her at night, send updates throughout the day that would’ve embarrassed my teenage self. I used to ask her if my clothes looked okay. Now she sends me pictures of hers and waits for my reply. She asks me about my exams, my friends, the people I mention in passing. I tell her about my deadlines, the professors I find difficult, the overpriced coffee I still buy anyway. It’s quiet, this new rhythm. But I’ve learned that love doesn’t have to be loud to be real.

Sometimes I look back on those years when I shut her out and wonder if she ever felt like she was losing me. If she noticed the way I started walking a little faster, speaking a little less. She never said anything. She just kept showing up. Every morning, every evening, every time I forgot to be soft. She waited patiently at the edges of my life, never forcing her way in, just leaving the door open.

It’s a quiet kind of love we’ve grown into. Less dependent, more deliberate. There’s a quiet tenderness in our relationship now, one that was hard to find in the noise of my teenage rebellion. It’s found in the way I now check in with her, the way I mirror her habits without meaning to, the way I try to care for her the way she’s always cared for me. I think this is what growing up really is. Not breaking away from your parents, but finding your way back to them with a fuller heart.

Tomorrow, I’ll take the first bus back to Bataan. In my bag will be a Burger King Whopper for my mom, wrapped up carefully so it doesn’t get soggy. I know she’ll act like it’s nothing special, maybe even scold me for spending too much, but I also know she’ll eat it happily. That’s how my mom is. She receives love the same way she gives it: fully, quietly, without making a big show.

We’ll sit across from each other like we used to, two people who’ve grown in different directions but still somehow toward each other. I’ll tell her about school, the traffic, the strange dream I had last week. She’ll tell me the cat’s been acting weird again, that the neighbor’s bike keeps blocking our driveway, that she learned new recipes from TikTok. She might even cook one of them while I’m home, letting me hover near the stove like I used to as a kid, sneaking bites before dinner was ready.

Maybe we’ll laugh at nothing. Maybe we’ll argue a little over how much I spend on delivery. Maybe we’ll sit in comfortable silence while watching TV. And in that quiet, ordinary moment, I’ll realize this is what it means to come home. Not just to a place, but to a person who never stopped waiting for you to return, even when you didn’t know you left.

Bea Francine Isuga 

The human mind's blueprint: What we lose when a language dies

 

By Anna Mae Lamentillo

Published Oct 24, 2025 12:01 am | Updated Oct 23, 2025 03:17 pm

NIGHT OWL

Linguistics is the science of the human mind. Each language is a unique experiment in how to structure thought, perceive time, and relate to the world. We are shutting down these experiments before we even under-stand what they can teach us. The alarming rate of language extinction is not just a cultural tragedy; it is a sci-entific crisis of unparalleled scale, robbing us of the essential data needed to comprehend the full architecture of human cognition.

The fundamental insight of modern cognitive science is that language is not merely a neutral vehicle for conveying pre-formed thoughts. It actively shapes our perception and reasoning in profound and subtle ways. Consider that some languages lack distinct words for "blue" and "green," leading speakers to perceive these colors differently. Others, like the Amazonian language Matses, have an incredibly complex system of verb end-ings that oblige the speaker to specify exactly how they came to know a fact—whether they saw it, inferred it, or heard it from someone else. This grammatical requirement cultivates a heightened awareness of evidence and source. Meanwhile, some Aboriginal languages use absolute cardinal directions (north, south) instead of ego-centric terms (left, right), fostering a constant, innate sense of orientation. These are not quaint quirks; they are distinct cognitive tools, each offering a unique solution to the challenge of being human.

This dazzling diversity is the primary dataset for understanding the boundaries of human consciousness. It reveals what is possible. When a language like this disappears, it is as if we are burning the only copy of a blue-print for a revolutionary kind of engine. We lose a critical data point in the map of the mind. Without the con-trast provided by different linguistic structures, we risk mistaking the cognitive habits ingrained by our own native tongue for universal laws of thought. We cannot fully grasp the nature of memory, reasoning, or sensory perception if we only study them through the narrow lens of a handful of dominant, and often structurally simi-lar, world languages.

The loss of a language, therefore, represents an irreversible setback for psychology, neuroscience, and phi-losophy. It limits our ability to answer the most basic questions about ourselves: What is the relationship be-tween language and reality? How malleable is the human brain? What are the ultimate limits of our intellectual and perceptual capabilities?

We must therefore treat language preservation as a fundamental scientific priority. This requires robust, sustained support for university linguistics departments and cognitive science research focused on endangered languages. It demands funding for urgent documentation projects that send researchers into the field to record not just vocabulary, but the intricate grammatical structures and patterns of use that reveal a community’s cognitive worldview.

This is not a niche academic pursuit; it is a crucial investment in understanding humanity itself. By saving these unique experiments in thought, we are ultimately saving our chance to know our own minds. The greatest unexplored frontier is not outer space, but the inner space of human po-tential, and the key to unlocking it is vanishing before our eyes.

Prayer, rest top stress relievers for Filipinos — SWS

By Ellalyn De Vera-Ruiz

Published Oct 24, 2025 08:40 am

For many Filipinos, coping with life’s daily pressures begins with a quiet prayer or a much-needed rest.

A Social Weather Stations (SWS) survey conducted from Sept. 24 to 30 found that praying or engaging in spiritual activities is the most common way Filipinos deal with stress, cited by 16 percent of 1,500 adult respondents nationwide.

Resting or sleeping ranked second at 14 percent, followed by going out or taking leisure trips at 11 percent.

Other ways of coping included thinking positively (7 percent), focusing on work or school and ignoring problems (6 percent each), spending time with family and exercising or going for a walk (5 percent each), and engaging in leisure or social activities such as playing sports or online games, doing household chores, talking with friends or neighbors, watching television or movies, eating, and singing or listening to music (4 percent each).

A smaller share of respondents said they scroll on social media or drink alcohol (2 percent each), while very few mentioned gardening or farming and smoking cigarettes (1 percent each), crying (0.4 percent), or seeking medical help (0.2 percent).

SWS said women were found to rely on prayer more than men when managing stress.

Twenty percent of women said they turn to prayer or spiritual activities to cope, while men were more inclined to rest (14 percent).

Among female respondents, rest or sleep was the next most common stress reliever (14 percent), followed by thinking positively (7 percent).

Meanwhile, men were more likely to cope by getting rest or sleep (14 percent), followed by going out (13 percent) and praying (12 percent).

SWS also said that prayer was the dominant response in Balance Luzon (19 percent) and Metro Manila (16 percent), while rest and sleep were the top choices in Mindanao (19 percent) and the Visayas (15 percent).

The Third Quarter 2025 Social Weather Survey was conducted through face-to-face interviews of 1,500 adults (18 years old and above) nationwide: 300 in Metro Manila, 600 in Balance Luzon (or Luzon outside Metro Manila), and 300 each in the Visayas and Mindanao.

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mb.com.ph/2025/10/09/feeling-stressed-youre-not-alone-survey-shows-more-filipinos-do