Tag Archives: consciousness

Thought Balloons

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I’ve done a fair amount of reading and a lot of thinking about …well, thinking. And consciousness. According to ChatGPT (PDF) the two are different but related.

One view that feels right to me is that thoughts think themselves. Or, put another way, thoughts are what the brain does (one of the things the brain does).

For the past couple of days I’ve been visualizing thoughts (?) as toy balloons floating into and out of awareness. (Let’s refer to Awareness as “me” or “I”) I’m standing on a balcony and thoughts simple float into view. Unbidden. Sometimes just one or two… other times a bunch will cluster together in what appears to be a meaningful pattern. (see comment below for thoughts as bubbles and refrigerator magnets)

If I ignore the balloons, they simple float up and away. But too often I reach out and grab one (or several) and hold onto them. Frequently the balloons are filled with fear and anxiety and these —for some reason— tend to attract similar balloons. Why would someone hold onto these?

There seems to be no limit to how many balloons I can hang onto at once. Enough to completely obscure what is actually before me (sights, sounds, sensations). And, as it turns out, these thoughts are mostly unnecessary. The body is, and has always been, mostly on autopilot.

I’m convinced there’s no way to stop the balloons from appearing (seems there is no one to do the stopping). Can I resist the urge to reach out and grab a balloon? Can I immediately let it go? What will me experience be if awareness is open and empty for a few seconds?

Magic

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As business —and the public at large— struggle to understand artificial intelligence and what it might become, I am free from any such anxiety. Arther C. Clark explained it back in 1962:

“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”

For now, you might say. Like all magic through the ages, we’ll figure out how the trick was done. And there are computer scientists today who write the AI code and understand how it works.

But if AI keeps “improving” at an exponential rate perhaps full understanding will remain just out of our grasp. And, yes, somebody wrote the code for today’s AI and understands how the trick is done. But who will know when AI is writing its own code?

For my part, I don’t really care how the trick is done (until it’s a bad trick, of course). For now I think about it the same way I think about “the hard problem” of consciousness. Nobody really understands what it is and how it comes to be. If some future AI achieves consciousness, and can explain it, I hope it doesn’t.

Thinking about thoughts

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I prompted Perplexity to tell me if scientists had determined how many thoughts we think every day. Obviously nobody knows for certain but 6,200 is the number she came up with. As I prepared to include a link to her findings in this post, I discovered I could create a “page” and publish that (somewhere) on Perplexity. While I didn’t write a single word of that page, I guess I get credit for the prompt? (“Curated by smays”)

Looking at the tag cloud on my blog I learned I have posted on the topic of “thoughts” 39 times going back fourteen years. A blog rabbit hole I couldn’t resist. Didn’t read them all but plan to read one each morning for the next month. I did, however, scrape some bits to give you a taste. (Each of these from a different source)

“I’m imagining a technology that doesn’t exist. Yet. A lightweight set of electrodes that monitors my brainwaves and transcribes (transmitted via Bluetooth to my mobile device, let’s say) my thoughts. An advanced version of today’s voice-to-text apps. We get to read that “stream of consciousness” at long last.”

“Thoughts think themselves.” […] “Feelings are, among other things, your brain’s way of labeling the importance of thoughts, and importance determines which thoughts enter consciousness.”

“If I re-google my own email (stored in a cloud) to find out what I said (which I do) or rely on the cloud for my memory, where does my “I” end and the cloud start? If all the images of my life, and all the snippets of my interests, and all of my notes and all my chitchat with friends, and all my choices, and all my recommendations, and all my thoughts, and all my wishes — if all this is sitting somewhere, but nowhere in particular, it changes how I think of myself. […] The cloud is our extended soul. Or, if you prefer, our extended self.”

“The problem is not thoughts themselves but the state of thinking without knowing we are thinking.”

“Even if your life depended on it, you could not spend a full minute free of thought. […] We spend our lives lost in thought. […] Taking oneself to be the thinking of one’s thoughts is a delusion.”

“Look at other people and ask yourself if you are really seeing them or just your thoughts about them. Sometimes our thoughts act like “dream glasses.”

“We often see our thoughts, or someone else’s, instead of seeing what is right in front of us or inside of us.”

“Our minds are just one perception or thought after another, one piled on another. You, the person, is not separate from these thoughts, the thing having them. Rather you just are the collection of these thoughts.”

“awareness by the mind of itself and the world”

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I don’t recall precisely when or how I became interested in consciousness. I’ve read a few (26) books on the topic and gave it some space here (104 posts). The reading has been a mix of scientific and spiritual (for lack of a better term). The concept showed up in a lot of my science fiction reading as well. And we’ll be hearing the term –however one defines it–  more often in the next few years.

I like the idea that nobody really knows what the fuck it is or where it comes from. Thankfully, that won’t change.

What if everything is conscious?

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That’s the headline of a pretty long article by Sigal Samuel at Vox. I’ve done some reading about consciousness and posted here with some frequency. The idea that everything is conscious has been around a long time. It’s called panpsychism.

Panpsychism, the view that consciousness or mind is a fundamental and ubiquitous feature of reality, has a long and rich history in philosophy. From the musings of the ancient Greeks to contemporary debates in philosophy of mind, panpsychism has captured the imagination of a diverse range of thinkers. Luminaries such as Plato, Spinoza, Leibniz, William James, and Alfred North Whitehead have all explored panpsychist ideas, and in recent years the theory has seen a resurgence of interest among philosophers like David Chalmers, Galen Strawson, and Philip Goff. (Perplexity)

Consciousness shows up in most of my reading on quantum theory. (My incomplete reading list) I, for one, hope “the hard problem of consciousness” is never solved.

The Unconscious

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“My thesis then, is as follows: in addition to our immediate consciousness, which is of a thoroughly personal nature and which we believe to be the only empirical psyche (even if we tack on the personal unconscious as an appendix), there exists a second psychic system of a collective, universal, and impersonal nature which is identical in all individuals. This collective unconscious does not develop individually but is inherited. It consists of pre-existent forms, the archetypes, which can only become conscious secondarily and which give definite form to certain psychic contents.”

— From a lecture titled The Concept of the Collective Unconscious delivered by Carl Jung on October 19, 1936, to the Abernethian Society at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital in London.

“Nothing You See is Real”

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Wikipedia: “Donald David Hoffman is an American cognitive psychologist and popular science author. He is a professor in the Department of Cognitive Sciences at the University of California, Irvine, with joint appointments in the Department of Philosophy, the Department of Logic and Philosophy of Science, and the School of Computer Science. Hoffman studies consciousness, visual perception and evolutionary psychology using mathematical models and psychophysical experiments.”

Based on years of meditation and lots of reading on the subject of consciousness, I actually get this.

The world you can perceive

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“The world you can perceive is a very small world indeed. And it is entirely private. Take it to be a dream and be done with it.”

This bit of wisdom is from I Am That by Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj, a Hindu spiritual teacher who lived in Mumbai. I’ve thought about it a lot over the years. What is “the world I can perceive?” All perception — every experience — is via the five senses, so my world is what I can see, hear, touch, taste and smell. Right here, right now. And it’s constantly changing. So my world is a tiny sphere of sensations that is unique to me. Everything else is conceptual, existing only in my head.

I don’t remember where I read the phrase, “Consciousness creates reality,” but that seems ever more true as I age. If I look closely enough, most of my problems (worries, anxieties, fears) exist outside my tiny reality sphere.

The Kekulé Problem

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“The Kekulé Problem” is a 2017 nonfiction essay by writer Cormac McCarthy for the Santa Fe Institute. It was his first published work of nonfiction. He theorizes about the nature of the unconscious mind and its separation from human language. The unconscious, according to McCarthy, “is a machine for operating an animal” and that “all animals have an unconscious.” McCarthy goes on to postulate that language is purely a human cultural creation, and not a biologically determined phenomenon. (Wikipedia)

“You may have read a thousand books and be able to discuss any one of them without remembering a word of the text.”

“The unconscious wants to give guidance to your life in general but it doesn’t care what toothpaste you use.”

“The unconscious seems to know a great deal. What does it know about itself? Does it know that it’s going to die? What does it think about that?”

The essay checked a lot of my boxes: awareness, consciousness, ego, thoughts.

Bubbles

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I’m sitting on the edge of the Grand Canyon, my feet hanging over the rim. I’m facing the setting sun and the light is painting the canyon walls. Somewhere far below, out of site, someone or some thing is blowing soap bubbles and I’m watching them drift slowly up and out of sight. Sometimes the bubbles are few and far between, other times a continuous stream, too many to count. But they never seem to stop completely.

From a distance, they’re just empty soap bubbles but if I bring my attention to particular bubble, I see it is filled with people, places and things. A tiny world that I recognize. My world.

If I look closely enough and long enough, I’m drawn into the bubble. I’m no long sitting on the canyon rim but part of the story unfolding in the bubble. Unlike most of the bubbles I’ve observed, this one doesn’t pop or float away. The canyon and the other bubbles no longer exist or, perhaps, I am just unaware of them.

Eventually, this bubble bumps into another bubble and the two merge, as bubbles often do. Sometimes these new bubbles are filled with a future world, sometimes the past. The worlds can be wonderful or awful but they’re always completely “real.”

I can spend hours moving from bubble to bubble, having completely forgotten about the view from the canyon rim. Every bubble is small and fragile and can be popped with the slightest touch but, from within, it’s difficult to remember this. Or the Me sitting on the canyon rim.

Ah! There I am. I’m back, watching the bubbles. How long, I wonder, was I trapped inside these shiny little things, drifting up and out of the canyon? How much of the spectacular sunset did I miss?