Control Or No Control? – That Is The Algorithmic Question

Awareness – Wiring your brain for mindfulness rather than mindlessness.

Here are two related questions that two students recently asked about mindfulness meditation:

“I am confused about control. There seems to be a contradiction: On one hand it feels like we take control in meditation, on the other hand we learn to relinquish control. What’s the solution?”

“If surrender is the wisdom to differentiate between what we have control over and what we don’t, then wouldn’t it make sense to ‘let be’ or ‘surrender’ to anything that comes into our field of awareness during formal practice without trying to force or coax our minds to establish a predetermined focus of attention? Sometimes I feel that by disciplining ourselves to follow such a structured set of rules, we are establishing certain conditioning, which happens to be the very thing that we are trying to get away from.”

Both questions address a very central point in meditation: We indeed learn to take control, but on a level we are not used to being in control, and we learn to relinquish control on another level we are inappropriately in the habit of trying to take control. We also learn to engage in the investigation of the mind. Just a few hours of meditation will show anyone that one has hardly any control over oneself, let alone any insight worth its salt into the nature of mind. As of 2019, the only possible direct access to my mind goes through self-observation, a methodical, continuous, and objective process that requires a technique to be learned. Through mindfulness practice we establish a new kind of conditioning that wires the brain for mindfulness rather than mindlessness.

The current age of the universe is 13.8 billion years. Planet earth was formed about 4.5 billion years ago. Life seems to have started 3.5 billion years ago. Humans have been around for at least 2 million years and anatomically modern humans for at least 300 thousand years. For most of life’s evolution there existed nothing even close to human consciousness. Various life forms thrived through several cycles of climatic changes and even mass extinctions without anyone ever making conscious decisions as we think we can. For most of this gigantic evolutionary time frame during which planet earth was teeming with life, the lights were on and nobody was home. These life forms evolved in such a way as to grow and multiply like sophisticated biological robots, perfectly adapted to multiply in their natural environment.

Every living creature is an energy processing mechanism, whose biological processes and functions are highly sophisticated calculations that ensure it creates copies of itself and survives. This is called an algorithm. An algorithm is a methodical set of steps that can be used to make calculations, resolve problems, and reach decisions. A cooking recipe is such an example: You follow the instructions and always get the same result. Biological algorithms (animals) calculate probabilities and undergo constant quality control by natural selection (evolution). Humans are no exception. They are algorithms ensuring propagation and survival. Sensations, emotions and thoughts are the calculations that ensure the organism produces copies of itself. Over 90% of our decisions, big and small, are made by the highly refined algorithms we call sensations, emotions, and desires. For most of what you need to survive and have kids – at least at the time we were hunter-gatherers – you didn’t need to be there. Your organism draws on millions of years of evolutionary experience to get you through this life just fine without you. What you believe to be your self that makes decisions like a CEO of a corporation, is mostly a constructed illusion that for the most part is as controlled by the algorithm as anything else.

Just because humans developed a consciousness capable of exploring both the world and itself, does not mean they are any less algorithms on autopilot. We now know from certain scientific experiments that decisions are made by our organism before we become aware of having made them. ‘You’, whoever you think that may be, is not the master of your organism and rarely the real decision-maker – your organism is, cleverly giving you retrospectively the impression that you made the decision when you haven’t. Millions of years of evolutionary experience equipped us well for autopilot surviving – you certainly would not want such highly important organismic functions that ensure survival to be controlled by your whims. Survival is non-negotiable and has to be ensured with iron-clad precision and predictability.

But there is a catch: With the development of a uniquely human brain structure called the middle prefrontal cortex (MPC), we developed the capacity to re-flect. This means having the mental ability to step outside the organism’s algorithmic calculations and observing them from a distance. In other words, we gained the ability to make algorithmic activity the object of our observation and reality something we can think about, reflect upon, and ultimately manipulate. We can manipulate our own cognitive functions, and reflect upon the world and our own experience. To achieve this feat our brain creates the illusion of a self we call ‘me’, which appears to be in charge when it really isn’t. This creates an interesting dilemma, whereby we gain the capacity to reflect upon and manipulate reality as if we had free rein to make free decisions and be in control, all the while the amount of control we have is far less than we ever imagine, allowing the experienced algorithm to still remain the real boss. In other words, even the part of our minds that is able to reflect, to think about thinking and reality, even that part is deeply under the influence of the algorithm and far more automatic than we think.

With the capacity to reflect we began to be able to put our curiosity and creativity in the service of experimentation. This means that we began to be able to do things that we are ‘naturally’ not made to do. I imagine a hominid a couple of millions of years ago wondering one day what would happen if she deliberately stayed up all night instead of going to sleep – you would never encounter a robin being able to do that. Another early human may have thrown a pebble against a rock and noticed a spark, thinking to himself that the spark looked eerily similar to the fire the last lightning storm unleashed and that he may be able to reproduce it himself. In mind terms, humans began to be able to use a small part of their brainpower to modify algorithmic processes within the very limited range of making changes in both the physical and social environment. While this worked fairly well as long as we were totally embedded in nature with limited capacities to act against its algorithmic principles since the agricultural revolution 10 thousand years ago it has become a real problem. As Yuval Harari points out in his book ‘Sapiens’, humans began to manipulate the lives of animals and plants. While people as individuals did not benefit from this change, it gave humans as a species the advantage of being able to provide more food per territory, assemble more people into a social unit and multiply exponentially. Only the few in charge benefited from this, while for most people this new arrangement meant keeping more people alive under worse conditions – from an evolutionary point of view a very successful development, since evolution’s currency is the number of DNA copies. Producing more than what’s needed opened the door to luxuries, which tend to become necessities with time, generating new obligations. And so the vicious cycle of stress was born: We have more than we need, including more time on our hands, creating a sense of entitlement for things to stay that way; entitlement morphs into a sense of necessity, creating new obligations and opportunities. Before we know it, we are caught in an inescapable trap that turns life into a treadmill that makes our days more anxious and agitated. Without us knowing it, for all the great discoveries humans have come up with, most of our decisions are still made by the algorithm, not ‘us’.

With this cognitive revolution of minds able to reflect upon reality that spawned a cultural evolution beyond our genes, our organisms took a beating. Most of our ability to reflect is compartmentalized to be focused on external reality. By ‘external’ I mean the reality that presents itself to our consciousness outside the very processes by which we create reality. Don’t forget, the brain is not like a computer that receives information from you, stores it exactly the way you put it in or it receives it and lets you retrieve it in the same form as you stored it. The brain not only takes in information from the outside world but also from inside the body and inside itself, processing the whole shebang in ways that create a constructed reality it then projects on the world, including the organism’s own view of itself. In other words, the spontaneous reflection of the untrained mind is compartmentalized and limited to the results of our mind’s processes as they are projected outward onto reality, and do not include awareness of how the mind creates the reality we see in the first place. We are very good at creating and inventing new things, in a misguided illusion of freedom make decisions that outrageously disrupt our organism’s optimal energy flow, and mistakenly believe that we are much more in charge than we really are, but we are lousy at exploring the very processes by which we create reality, in other words, the processes of the mind itself.

I am sure you can see now how this situation leads to catastrophe, both personal and collective. We disrupt the organism’s capacity for integration without knowing how we do it and even that we do it, causing untold suffering, breakdowns and illnesses. Collectively, we barrel down the same path, disrupting and destroying the ecosystem that sustains us. In both cases, we damage and destroy the very context that gives us life – organism and ecosystem. This brings us back to our two students’ questions. The algorithmic power to ensure survival at the expense of thriving and short-term gain at the expense of long-term wisdom, and the power of the treadmill of habit to follow the algorithmic principle of DNA quantity over life quality, both are so deeply conditioned and solidly ensconced in millions of years of evolution that ‘letting be’ just like that without special training would simply perpetuate our path to destruction.

In our capacity for reflection that is ordinarily compartmentalized to only be applied to external reality, there lies a gem. It is the hidden treasure of mindsight. We have the ability to turn our attention towards the very processes of mind that create our reality and open our awareness to encompassing the processes by which we are. The algorithm being what it is, a powerful program that unfolds on autopilot whether we like it or not, we need an equally powerful counter-process of investigation and awareness that can take the algorithm on and elucidate its mysteries. This requires that we enlist and activate a latent potential that lurks hidden behind the facade of automatism. Our capacity for reflection has Janus qualities: It can be in the service of the algorithm that was established millions of years ago when we lived embedded in nature and DNA survival was the only game in town, and it can also be put in the service of an algorithmic transformation so badly needed for long-term thriving in a world, in which we have transcended our natural embeddedness long ago. To this end, ‘letting be’ has to be learned, because it is otherwise just not available to us. All we know is how to do and we are hopeless at undoing; all we know is how to feed the illusion of control and we are incapable of realizing how little control we have; all we know is interfere and we have no clue how to allow millions of years of organismic wisdom to show us the way; all we know is the illusion of making decisions and we don’t have the faintest knowledge of the fact that all we can do is allow, suppress or modify decisions the algorithm has taken long before we become aware of them; all we know is striving and we fall short when it comes to being.

To develop the latent capacity to get out of our way after having examined what mind is, and let the spontaneous process of integration towards health, wellbeing, and no-suffering evolve, we have to introduce a new set of conditioning into the algorithm, one that expands our view of reality to encompass the whole context of being, including how we create reality in the first place. That takes training, because we are for the most part not spontaneously wired for that. Although we will never completely escape the algorithm of the organism that we are, this is our chance to develop a point of reference outside the algorithm’s reach, capable of eliminating the suffering the algorithm can’t help create. Paradoxically, we then discover that ‘I’, the self, is an illusion, like it would be an illusion to believe a corporation has a CEO named John, when in fact it only has a board of directors all with the same first name John. Realizing there is no such ‘I’ in charge, that the algorithm is in charge, and that from moment to moment many different energy flows vie for dominance following algorithmic rules, is deeply empowering, because like in the wizard of Oz, we cease wasting energy fighting the illusion of self. Instead, we can relax into the awareness of the river of internal events unfolding whether we like it or not, realizing that our power lies in how easily and elegantly we can navigate the obstacles the river flows through.

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Automaticity of the human mind

Human function, action, cognition and behavior under the lens of automaticity

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1. Left brain perspective

For several consecutive early spring days, a single, distinctive fly appeared to relish the bright sunlight illuminating my bathroom. We have grown familiar, coexisting as two entities engaged in our respective routines. I designate her as "she"—perhaps influenced by the feminine grammatical gender of la mouche (French), la mosca (Italian), and die Fliege (German)—an intuitive attribution rather than a biological assertion. She occasionally positions herself on the curtain railing above my bathtub, observing as I shower. More frequently, she rests on the windowsill, tracking my movements as I shave, and at times briefly alights on my hair for a few seconds. I have been aware of her presence throughout, akin to an inquisitive cohabitant sharing this confined space, but today I intentionally sought a deeper engagement.

She was once again stationed on the windowsill, basking in the sunlight, as I shaved. I approached closely, examining her large, compound eyes, and posed the question, “What is it like to be a fly?” Initially, my cognition activated a predictable analytical response, retrieving stored knowledge about her physiology: a head encasing a compact brain; expansive, multifaceted eyes affording a broad visual field; antennae functioning as olfactory and gustatory sensors; specialized mouthparts adapted for sponging or piercing-sucking; a thorax anchoring six articulated legs, rapid wings, and club-shaped halteres for flight stabilization; and an abdomen housing digestive and reproductive systems, concealed from view. Her exoskeleton, black with muted grey striations, bore a subtle, fur-like texture, as though she had ornamented herself for this encounter—a sizable specimen, impossible to ignore.

Yet, I deliberately suspended this intellectual framework, opting instead to engage her in a silent, receptive state. My question became more personal and changed to “what is it like to be you”? I consciously down-regulated the default mode network—the neural substrate of self-referential thought—relinquishing the ego’s persistent drive to assert its permanence. This ego, in its dualistic framework, projects constructed identities onto the external ‘other’, rendering her so alien that I might, without reflection, swat her away, extinguishing a life deemed insignificant, irritating, or even repellent by that limited perspective.

In this shift, a different entity began to emerge within my awareness—not a mere object, but a presence actively relating to me, exhibiting a form of consciousness distinct yet perceptible. Her curiosity, perhaps reciprocal, prompted her to take flight and settle briefly on my hair. I remained immobile, registering the faint tactile sensation of her tentative exploration of my surface—an interaction probing my identity as much as I sought hers. The contact was transient; she soon returned to the windowsill, fixing her gaze upon me. I speculated that she might, in her own unknowable way, ponder a parallel question: “What is it like to be this massive, terrestrial organism, incapable of flight, beyond my capacity to name?” The perceived separation—me here, her there—dissolved into a unified ‘we’, marked by a tangible exchange of vitality through our shared, living awareness. Though our modes of consciousness diverge, they intersect intimately, each of us enacting existence according to our inherent capacities. Together, we participated in a dynamic interplay, a microcosm of the universe’s unfolding, so affecting that tears briefly surfaced, reflecting regret for the countless instances of inattentiveness lost to automaticity.

This encounter with such a remarkable organism illuminated a progression of awareness. Initially, I had navigated the ‘dark night of the soul’—a dualistic state of nihility, a relative nothingness characterized by existential desolation and the collapse of meaning within a self-other framework. Beyond this, I accessed a non-dual absolute nothingness, a broader mode of awareness where subject-object distinctions dissolve into a unified field of being, devoid of relational constructs. Yet, this was not the terminus; it opened into emptiness—the ultimate awareness mode, a boundless, vibrant expanse where the extraordinary manifests within the ordinary flux of daily existence. This state, achieved through direct presence with this fly, surpasses any chemically induced psychedelic experience in its clarity and depth, revealing a profound interconnectedness inherent in the fabric of life, the extraordinariness of ordinary existence. No answer could ever come close to the tantalizing peace of timeless questions.

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2. Right brain vantage point

For several radiant spring mornings, a singular, remarkable fly has basked in the golden sunlight flooding my bathroom. We have become familiar companions, each merrily tending to our daily rites. At times, she—yes, she, anointed feminine by the lilting echoes of la mouche, la mosca, die Fliege, a soft intuition humming through language—perches atop the curtain railing above my bathtub, a silent witness to my shower’s misty veil. More often, she lingers on the windowsill, her gaze fixed upon me as I shave, now and then darting to alight for a fleeting instant upon my hair. I’ve felt her presence all along—a curious housemate in this shared sanctuary—but today, I vowed to bridge the chasm between us.

There she rested once more, cradled in the sun’s warm embrace upon the windowsill, watching me wield my razor with quiet intent. I leaned closer, peering into her vast, prismatic eyes—kaleidoscopes of a secret world—and murmured, “What is it like to be a fly?” At first, my mind thrummed with the familiar pulse of knowledge: her head, a miniature cathedral of instinct; those grand, jeweled eyes unveiling a boundless vista; antennae, fragile wands of scent and savor; mouthparts sculpted for sipping or piercing; her thorax, a delicate frame bearing six crooked legs, wings that shimmer with thunderous speed, and halteres, poised like a dancer’s plumb line; her abdomen, a veiled chamber of life’s mysteries. She gleamed, black as night with faint grey stripes, her form cloaked in a gossamer sheen, as though she’d adorned herself for this tender rendezvous.

This time, like as many other times as I can possibly honour in daily life, I let this torrent of facts dissolve, beckoning her to meet me in the hush of silence. The question changed to become more personal: “What is it like to be you?” I stilled the restless clamor of my mind, loosening the ego’s tenacious hold—that brittle self, desperate to cling to its mirage of eternity, casting endless conceptual shadows upon the being before me. So remote she might appear, I could, in a careless flicker, swat her away, deeming her life a trifling annoyance, a speck of disdain. But no—a different essence began to bloom within my consciousness.

A presence unfurled, no longer separate but alive with me, awake in her own cryptic grace, her curiosity a mirror to my own. Suddenly, she soared, settling upon my hair. I stood statue-still, captivated by the faint tickle of her pilgrimage across my scalp, a gentle quest into the enigma of my existence. The moment was ephemeral; she soon returned to her sun-gilded throne, gazing back at me. Perhaps she mused, too: “What is it like to be this lumbering, wingless colossus, a riddle beyond my silent tongue?” The gulf between us—me here, her there—dissolved into a luminous we, tethered by a pulsing filament of shared aliveness. Our ways of knowing diverged, yet entwined, each of us threading life’s arc with singular devotion. Together, we spun a strand in the vast loom of the cosmos, a dance so piercing that tears brimmed in my eyes, lamenting a lifetime’s moments lost to the fog of unawareness.

In that tranquil void, beside this astonishing fly, I brushed against an abyss beyond sorrow—a stillness forged in the crucible of the soul’s dark night, rising into the infinite embrace of nothingness. From there, it was but a tender plunge into the world’s embrace, a surrender that let peaceful nothingness blossom into vibrant emptiness—a radiant field teeming with the miraculous veiled in the everyday. This quiet epiphany, outshining the wildest psychedelic odyssey imaginable, unveiled life’s timeless poetry: unspoken, extraordinary, woven into the ordinary cadence of days. The nameless question remains.

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Searching Everywhere But Where It Counts

Forgetting that we have a mind.

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October 12, 2024

Before you worry about symptoms such as depression and anxiety and how to improve or get rid of them, before you get your blood boiling arguing with people who can't deal with anything beyond their own viewpoint, before you develop and become ensconced in your own opinions, before you vilify who disagrees with you, before you shake your head wondering how seemingly obvious facts cannot be agreed upon, before you assume you have no blind spots, before you despair that crowds never learn from history, before you become bitter at humanity's collective stupidity, before you get passionate about religion, mythology, and archetypes, before all that, wouldn't it make sense to inquire into the source of all of it - these symptoms, views, opinions, thoughts, actions, distortions and, frankly, miseries?

While it does not take rocket science to realize that the source of it all is the embodied human mind, for most, embarking on its exploration is at best a big challenge, at worst insurmountable, non-sensical or incomprehensible. How many times have you heard nonsense like “I don’t believe in psychology”, as if the existence of the moon were a matter of belief? How often do patients enter their physician’s office complaining of being anxious or depressed, and are sent home with a prescription without one question that would try to understand how their mind creates such suffering? Many people, including professionals who should know better, live and act as if they had no mind.

The mind is the source of all subjective phenomena and experiences, and we are astoundingly unaware of it. Our mind’s task is to ensure survival and the propagation of our species, not to ensure we live our best life. To this end, it needs to be efficient, rather than concerned about maximizing its potential. Efficiency results by pairing down information processing to the bare minimum. Embedded in the way mind functions are mechanisms that cause reality distortions, delusions, wild beliefs, and a profound obliviousness of one’s own ignorance. Whether we like it or not, our mind drives our lives like our heart pumps blood through our veins. The universe's natural processes have caused us to evolve that way, and for better or worse, we are stuck with a mind that functions sub-optimally as it creates profound reality distortions that seem at first blush to have successfully allowed us to multiply and propagate towards earth dominance. In the long run, however, it turns out that humanity may end up stampeding dangerously close to extinction. To thrive both individually and as a species we must come to terms with our rather dangerous mind and train ourselves to use it beyond its basic survival mode by accessing its inherent potential evolution has graciously also built into it. That takes work, training, effort and patience.

Our human mind provides the capacity for reflection. The mirror reflects what’s in front of it, meaning that as reality beams itself onto the mirror’s surface, the mirror beams it back to us as an image we can then examine from the outside. Notice how what gets examined by looking at the mirror is not reality itself, but an image of it. Our brain provides a similar process in the form of consciousness, whereby it maps reality in a virtual form we then can observe and manipulate. However, while the mirror reflects reality exactly as it is, the virtual reality consciousness creates is not only a map of reality, but that map is modified into a new creation. The brain as mapper functions as our central relationship organ that enables us to reflexively develop a relationship to reality and ourselves by having access to a virtual, mapped and modified reality we can ponder and manipulate. This is how we are self-aware.

As an aside, the mind is more than the creator of a virtual adaptation of reality we can reflexively relate to and have a relationship with. It can transcend self-awareness, and knowingly experience reality and awareness without the detour of mapped mirroring duality. That is the shift from observation to being, from knowing we exist in a universe to realizing we are the universe. More about that in another context.

The eye has a blind spot where the optic nerve enters the retina, but you don’t see it. You have the impression of enjoying a seamless field of vision without two black holes in the middle, even though the holes are there. The brain manages to fill in the missing information to make the field seem seamless. Extrapolate that to the whole brain to realize that to function effectively for everyday survival our brain adapts our field of consciousness in two ways: It fills what’s missing to provide a sense of continuity and simplifies available information to not overwhelm you. It hides blind spots from you to provide continuity and withholds information to ensure efficiency. Both these mechanisms distort reality to ensure survival, while simultaneously laying the foundations for ignorance and suffering.

We each have many blind spots, but the core blind spot affecting us all is the proclivity to live as if we had no mind. We use our minds without realizing the extent to which our experience of reality is created by our mind. Without our conscious knowledge our brain creates the reality we experience. We don’t notice that the reality we experience is our brain’s creation. We mistake our brain’s constructions for reality. This results in a dangerous situation, in which we ignore the fact that our experience is subjectively constructed. We mistakenly believe that what we see and experience is automatically true, and because it seems true it seems real, and because it seems real it cannot be changed. Our primordial blind spot towards the brain’s constructions robs us of freedom of choice, of the power of clear view, wise discernment, and respectfully compassionate mutual understanding.

Our mind’s constructions seem so real that we hold on to them for dear life and want to shove them down other people’s throats without exploring their veracity. We get strongly identified with what we believe we know, emotions take over, and the capacity to hear each other vanishes. Identification with mind processes is the single most destructive problem in the way humans use their minds. Emotions suffocate the mind’s spaciousness to freely consider, question, doubt and explore, and before we know it, we are in conflict. If we cannot agree on facts, emotions drive us to use force to impose our views instead of inquiring more deeply into the divergent realities, and if necessary, compromising to try to resolve complexities. Force can take the form of yelling and screaming at each other, or legal and physical action.

The reality our mind constructs and we can have a relationship with, is in fact threefold. We first have objective reality, which is what happens in the universe independent of whether we know about it or there is anyone around to witness it. This reality consists of energy flow that is independent of how our brains and minds construct reality, and therefore as far from information as energy flow can get. The black death virus killed thousands of people without them knowing what viruses are or being able to see them. Although this is the easiest reality to agree upon, like in the case of flat-earthers, emotions still manage to cause distortions of objective facts.

Subjective reality is our own private experience nobody else has access to. This energy flow is entirely within as a construction by our own brain and mind. Although it is largely independent of objective reality, it is profoundly shaped by interactions with others. Even if everyone denies that I am in pain, if I experience pain, it is totally real for me. That is a difficult reality to agree upon, because seeing it from the outside requires trust and our capacity for empathy.

Then there is intersubjective reality, which is the reality of stories. This energy flow is deeply symbolic in the sense that language and stories are symbolic, therefore experienced as information flow, and a mutual co-creation with others. It is the reality that emerges through mutual narrative construction and is neither objective, nor subjective. It only exists in the interpersonal realm containing people who are willing to participate in it by accepting the shared reality. One such reality is money, but there are many others such as all collective ideas we can share. Money means nothing and has no reality unless it is shared in the interpersonal space. This is also a difficult reality to deal with, because it depends on the mutual capacity to regulate the multilayered energy flow between our intuition, our emotions and our intellect. When that occurs, empathy and clear insight become possible, allowing a degree of harmony within the intersubjective dance of energy and information flow to emerge. Any dance couple may dance a Tango, but those in conflict will not be able to present a harmonious dance.

To manage these three realities we each have a relationship with, requires a good deal of self-awareness and emotional regulation many people don’t have. Much of the time, the mind remains transparent like air to our eyes, invisible or not known, yet profoundly determining how we relate to real reality and live our lives. Like children playing in a house on fire, we remain oblivious to the many ways our ignorance of mind causes suffering and destruction all around.

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