In a whimsical sort of way, I have been evaluating my own progress in meditative self-awareness and attempting to generalize how the process proceeds for everybody else. While the pace of progress depends on several factors - intensity, geographical location, weather, existential circumstances being some of the more important ones - I am intrigued by the following question: is the computational process involved P or NP?
In this short note, I attempt to clarify what I mean by progress in meditative self-awareness. Also, I explain what I mean by computation in this context. This shall hopefully serve as a conceptual framework for future writings that attempt to describe subtler aspects of the spiritual journey. Taking up the question of progress first, it is necessary to define the ideal towards which progress may be made. It is quite evident to me now, in the light of recent developments, that the inner well of undifferentiated consciousness does exist, is as formidable and transcendent as the best descriptions that claim to do it no justice, and is attainable by any person of sound mind and body with a moderate amount of effort. To fine-tune the physical and mental body to be able to sustain the level of concentration necessary to sustain the awareness of this reality seems to be the purpose of all meditative practice.
This effort, however, has to be multi-pronged. Physical fitness is essential, since it is necessary to be able to sit in a compact, balanced position for long durations of time (three hours at least, is the traditional view). Mental calmness is necessary, since the activities of the mind must die down of their own accord when gently nudged to do so (this can take years of patient effort, but becomes second nature in time). Mental vigor is equally necessary, if hallucinatory experiences and auto-suggestive behavior are to be avoided. An intellectual life, a profession that deals with the manipulation of abstract symbols, is ideal to fulfil this purpose.
But it is not only these affirmative aspects of daily living that form part of the preparation. Had these been all, meditative progress would have been in P, since polynomially many trials in the number of relevant parameters (provided they had been identified), would guarantee a monotone approach to the solution (the more you practice, the closer you get). Unhappily, there are other, less stable aspects of the human personality that also need consideration.
The abnegation of passion is the most controversial and least likable aspect of spiritual practice. For me personally, since I have an intensely passionate nature, this has always been a great source of dissatisfaction and discomfiture, not to mention depression. There are several occasions upon which, the path of fire and light appears to be one of smoke and dust, with nothing to recommend it and no logical justification save masochistic self-delusion. Such thought, indeed, has occupied several debilitating hours of my time. Yet, the gradual removal of the fuel that fires the Ego is an extremely essential step on the road to the Godhead.
This process is two-pronged and can be excruciatingly long. The first stage, which some find easy, and some find impossible, consists of conscious mortification of the passionate aspects of one's personality. Austere living and regulation of food, sleep and libido, when inseparable parts of one's daily life, quickly bring about the consummation of this phase for those who are inclined towards the idea of self-awareness. There are, however, several reversions, and most of these are brought about by a revulsion towards the aridity that these austerities cultivate, and which contrasts in such an unflattering manner to the simple pleasures of material existence. This is because there still remains subtle unconscious fuel to feed the Ego - latent desire and inclinations that lie seated deep in the sub-conscious mind and shape an individual's personality. It might appear strange and, in fact, pathological, to speak of the dilution of one's personality, but that is precisely what the second stage of self-abnegation entails. The process here is not one of conscious flaw-detection and fixing; the sub-conscious, by definition lies outside the purview of the conscious mind, however nobly inclined.
One of the most wonderful inventions of the creative human intellect is the mathematical realm of optimization. The philosophical idea is simple: even if you do not know what to do to individual elements of a process domain, if it is possible to define a concept of `utility' in its space, and if this utility function is not completely random in its behavior, then it is possible, with a limited number of trials, to find a point (or trajectory) in the process space that has the greatest utility.
This diversion into mathematical jargon becomes meaningful when one realizes that this is precisely the mechanism whereby the conscious mind can exercise some measure of control over the sub-conscious, even if it cannot manipulate it directly. The sub-conscious trains itself by a process of Hebbian reinforcement - it hangs on to things it likes, and attempts to stay away from things it does not like. Since the definition of likes and dislikes changes over time, is activated at a very early age at which time it is often the dominant discriminatory framework, the sub-conscious mind is often somewhat infantile, anachronistic and chaotic in its operation and expression. Properly channeled, it is the seat of all creativity. Improperly channeled, it is the source of bipolar behavior, psychoses and other unpleasant mental states, descriptions of which litter the psychological literature.
To set this menagerie into some sort of order, the conscious mind can do nothing better than make repeated trials, bearing in mind the utility function it seeks to optimize - freedom from sub-conscious urges, liberation from imperfections of prior perceptions and tranquility and clarity in normal thought. In general, one would presume that this problem is NP, or worse. It seems unlikely, given the enormous variability of the conceptual space that may serve as an abstract model for the sub-conscious, that a polynomial number of trials will be sufficient to provably find the optimal solution. It is not even certain whether an exponential number of trials will suffice, although the finite depth of the branching tree process of perception suggests that this is likely to be the case.
We are now finally in a position to make our second definition, as promised earlier. Computation, in the context of spiritual practice, may be defined as trials that the conscious mind, which has no sense of utility, imposes upon the sub-conscious, which is the seat of perception and utility, but has no logical, or even probabilistic underpinnings. Strictly speaking, it is erroneous to speak of computation complexity in this context since this process is not Turing-emulable in real-time. This can be easily seen since multiple trials may proceed simultaneously, and no utility function values may be returned for long periods of time. However, the metaphor speaks powerfully to the underlying elegance of the task, so we cock a snook at tradition and persist with it.
I have thus described, as promised earlier, the two concepts that allow me to pose the somewhat silly question: is progress in meditation P or NP? I cannot claim that I have the answer yet. Subsequent writings will explore various aspects of the problem, and I have some hope that the answer will be found.
I feel the desire to describe the difference between unsupervised learning and learning from exemplars in this framework, but I feel the certitude of meditative tranquility fading, being replaced steadily by the doubt that characterizes (and should characterize, in my opinion) the aspirant's earthly existence. I conclude for the present then, and will take up this thread anon when the Gurutattva moves me again.
In this short note, I attempt to clarify what I mean by progress in meditative self-awareness. Also, I explain what I mean by computation in this context. This shall hopefully serve as a conceptual framework for future writings that attempt to describe subtler aspects of the spiritual journey. Taking up the question of progress first, it is necessary to define the ideal towards which progress may be made. It is quite evident to me now, in the light of recent developments, that the inner well of undifferentiated consciousness does exist, is as formidable and transcendent as the best descriptions that claim to do it no justice, and is attainable by any person of sound mind and body with a moderate amount of effort. To fine-tune the physical and mental body to be able to sustain the level of concentration necessary to sustain the awareness of this reality seems to be the purpose of all meditative practice.
This effort, however, has to be multi-pronged. Physical fitness is essential, since it is necessary to be able to sit in a compact, balanced position for long durations of time (three hours at least, is the traditional view). Mental calmness is necessary, since the activities of the mind must die down of their own accord when gently nudged to do so (this can take years of patient effort, but becomes second nature in time). Mental vigor is equally necessary, if hallucinatory experiences and auto-suggestive behavior are to be avoided. An intellectual life, a profession that deals with the manipulation of abstract symbols, is ideal to fulfil this purpose.
But it is not only these affirmative aspects of daily living that form part of the preparation. Had these been all, meditative progress would have been in P, since polynomially many trials in the number of relevant parameters (provided they had been identified), would guarantee a monotone approach to the solution (the more you practice, the closer you get). Unhappily, there are other, less stable aspects of the human personality that also need consideration.
The abnegation of passion is the most controversial and least likable aspect of spiritual practice. For me personally, since I have an intensely passionate nature, this has always been a great source of dissatisfaction and discomfiture, not to mention depression. There are several occasions upon which, the path of fire and light appears to be one of smoke and dust, with nothing to recommend it and no logical justification save masochistic self-delusion. Such thought, indeed, has occupied several debilitating hours of my time. Yet, the gradual removal of the fuel that fires the Ego is an extremely essential step on the road to the Godhead.
This process is two-pronged and can be excruciatingly long. The first stage, which some find easy, and some find impossible, consists of conscious mortification of the passionate aspects of one's personality. Austere living and regulation of food, sleep and libido, when inseparable parts of one's daily life, quickly bring about the consummation of this phase for those who are inclined towards the idea of self-awareness. There are, however, several reversions, and most of these are brought about by a revulsion towards the aridity that these austerities cultivate, and which contrasts in such an unflattering manner to the simple pleasures of material existence. This is because there still remains subtle unconscious fuel to feed the Ego - latent desire and inclinations that lie seated deep in the sub-conscious mind and shape an individual's personality. It might appear strange and, in fact, pathological, to speak of the dilution of one's personality, but that is precisely what the second stage of self-abnegation entails. The process here is not one of conscious flaw-detection and fixing; the sub-conscious, by definition lies outside the purview of the conscious mind, however nobly inclined.
One of the most wonderful inventions of the creative human intellect is the mathematical realm of optimization. The philosophical idea is simple: even if you do not know what to do to individual elements of a process domain, if it is possible to define a concept of `utility' in its space, and if this utility function is not completely random in its behavior, then it is possible, with a limited number of trials, to find a point (or trajectory) in the process space that has the greatest utility.
This diversion into mathematical jargon becomes meaningful when one realizes that this is precisely the mechanism whereby the conscious mind can exercise some measure of control over the sub-conscious, even if it cannot manipulate it directly. The sub-conscious trains itself by a process of Hebbian reinforcement - it hangs on to things it likes, and attempts to stay away from things it does not like. Since the definition of likes and dislikes changes over time, is activated at a very early age at which time it is often the dominant discriminatory framework, the sub-conscious mind is often somewhat infantile, anachronistic and chaotic in its operation and expression. Properly channeled, it is the seat of all creativity. Improperly channeled, it is the source of bipolar behavior, psychoses and other unpleasant mental states, descriptions of which litter the psychological literature.
To set this menagerie into some sort of order, the conscious mind can do nothing better than make repeated trials, bearing in mind the utility function it seeks to optimize - freedom from sub-conscious urges, liberation from imperfections of prior perceptions and tranquility and clarity in normal thought. In general, one would presume that this problem is NP, or worse. It seems unlikely, given the enormous variability of the conceptual space that may serve as an abstract model for the sub-conscious, that a polynomial number of trials will be sufficient to provably find the optimal solution. It is not even certain whether an exponential number of trials will suffice, although the finite depth of the branching tree process of perception suggests that this is likely to be the case.
We are now finally in a position to make our second definition, as promised earlier. Computation, in the context of spiritual practice, may be defined as trials that the conscious mind, which has no sense of utility, imposes upon the sub-conscious, which is the seat of perception and utility, but has no logical, or even probabilistic underpinnings. Strictly speaking, it is erroneous to speak of computation complexity in this context since this process is not Turing-emulable in real-time. This can be easily seen since multiple trials may proceed simultaneously, and no utility function values may be returned for long periods of time. However, the metaphor speaks powerfully to the underlying elegance of the task, so we cock a snook at tradition and persist with it.
I have thus described, as promised earlier, the two concepts that allow me to pose the somewhat silly question: is progress in meditation P or NP? I cannot claim that I have the answer yet. Subsequent writings will explore various aspects of the problem, and I have some hope that the answer will be found.
I feel the desire to describe the difference between unsupervised learning and learning from exemplars in this framework, but I feel the certitude of meditative tranquility fading, being replaced steadily by the doubt that characterizes (and should characterize, in my opinion) the aspirant's earthly existence. I conclude for the present then, and will take up this thread anon when the Gurutattva moves me again.
2 comments:
But what are these trials that you talk about?
Good question. Assuming that I have my conscious mind under control and wish to effect the same on the subconscious.
Every mental decision that I make thereafter is a potential trial. However, only those decisions whose results can be analyzed actually end up being trials.
However, I recommend not reading too much into the metaphor I have perpetrated here. It is simply a reflection upon the intractability of subconscious impulses, and does not claim great epistemological depth.
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