Kate and I spent the weekend forest bathing.
A cabin in deep woods, a river feeding the ocean, tides marking the day. We hiked, watched, listened, and smelled. We let the quiet settle.
By Sunday morning, my resting heart rate dropped by 10%. The storms of the modern world were shedding.
We were eating lunch inside while looking out onto the serene river, playing 20 questions. As we probed to discover what object the other had identified, we watched several flies struggle against the glass as they tried to get outside. It was beyond their intellectual capacity to understand the concept of glass and to improvise a plan to take an alternative route to get back where they belonged.
In our normal gaze we look past the flies to the trees and the river. Kate and I wondered what else we miss moment to moment. Most of it, probably.
We are powerful and weak, all-seeing and oblivious, free and trapped. The modern world is our glass.
On Sunday morning I asked Kate to draw what she was feeling. She was reading a book and sketched onto the open page, which happened to be the dedication and read āsine qua nonā, the one without whom, not.
The quiet of the forest sharpened what I could notice. The flies on the window. Kate across the table. A dedication in a borrowed book that became, by accident, hers to me.
Are all trapped behind glass we cannot see?
5-MeO-DMT gave me a single idea that won't leave.
Our minds are not naturally capable of understanding the preciousness of our existence.
Not "life is precious" as printed on a poster. It's something much more specific. That the hardware we're running, human consciousness, cannot render the full resolution of what it means to be here. Like a 480p screen trying to display an 8K image. The information is there but the display can't hold it.
It's been 3 weeks and I still feel childlike and fresh. My mind feels free of the accumulated barnacle. My dreams are alive.
The brain data is now coming in and it matches my reported subjective experiences. I'm excited to share it with you.
But the data doesn't complete the picture. The feeling is that I found a home I didn't know I was looking for and I don't have a biomarker for that.
@BradTaylor_2@MaphraMusic@bmthofficial She has videos on her instagram from before ai was even a thing, sheās gonna livestream herself doing these styles of vocals to stop these kind of comments as well
Talmageās bike took flight, stunning his friends. He flew one lap around the school and landed safely by the jungle gym.Ā Jasper approached and fist-pumped ārespect Talmage for not giving up.ā
My six-year-old son is tucked into bed, his eyes are lit up. These stories feel real to him. Every night we do this. He tells me about his day and then I make up a story with him as the protagonist. In them, he invents, overcomes hardship, deals with difficult relationships, and learns. We navigate the world together through story.
I tuck him in and kiss him good night. As I leave his room and head into the family room, my heart sinks. My partner is there on the couch waiting for me. Sheās upset and wants to talk. I donāt. Weāve had this same fight, I donāt even know how many times. It feels like insanity to me.
Iām still reeling from the stress of the day. It was warfare. Iām the founder of a payments company; the battle never ends. My depression is raging. I am numb to existence. Iām overweight, inflamed, sleep deprived, and feel no hope for anything.
We recite the same words, and resolve nothing. I want to be an opossum and play dead. Itās too much.
The brownies. Thereās a pan in the kitchen. Imagining eating them drips dopamine in my brain, giving me momentary reprieve from the pain of life. As I walk into the kitchen, I decide on one bite only. I canāt overeat again. The top button on my pants canāt be buttoned and it drives me crazy. I refuse to surrender and buy bigger pants.
One bite becomes half the pan. The brownies win again. I now feel sick. Iāve repeated this situation, what, hundreds of times? Why do I do this to myself?
The situation is absurd. My hands never disobey. My mind, however, a masterpiece of evolution, disobeys itself to commit self harm. How do I negotiate with this malfunction?
I spend my day building software. We define an objective, write lines of code, and the software does what itās instructed to do. Reliably. Yes, there are bugs and the software needs some upkeep, but it doesnāt steal away and act on runaway impulse.Ā
Why canāt I build myself like software? Not to perfect but to author. It feels like such a catastrophic waste of my intelligent existence to be enslaved to impulse. My brain has 86 billion neurons and 100 trillion synaptic connections. My body is an elegant orchestra of over 30 trillion cells. Surely this precious gift can be used for more virtuous purposes.
It must. Otherwise how will humans survive in the age of AI?Ā I mean, if we look all the way back, what is intelligent existence if not the continuous scaffolding and automation to higher levels of complexity.
Fire freed our ancestors from certain caloric and dietary restrictions, which opened up energy (metabolism and time) for things like language and society to develop.
Hand stitch to loom. Wagons to horses to the combustion engine. Abacus to computers.
Whitehead captured it: āCivilization advances by extending the number of important operations which we can perform without thinking about them.ā
Could I reframe that and apply it to myself? Bryan Johnson advances by extendingā¦.
I need protection from threats too. The brownies are the enemy. They are a civilization that eats itself. Iām vulnerable because these addiction patterns found their way into my biology at a young age. Sugar cereals, sugar soda, and highly processed foods.
What strength do I have to fight with? Will power is fickle. What if I could enable my heart, liver and lungs to speak, allowing them to provide status updates and express their needs. Then what if those needs could be automatically addressed by other systems including nutrition, exercise, sleep, medications and therapies.
The technology isnāt there yet for this to be fully automated. But maybe I could build an analog system. In the future, maybe this system will run autonomously.
People will hear this and surely say that we humans are not machines. We are living, breathing, chaotic, emergent systems of intelligence and this would sack the joy out of life. I understand that perspective. Also, maybe thatās a story we tell ourselves.
Weāre already more automation than decision. We exist because and thanks to automation. Digestion, wound healing, our immune systems. Our bodies run without our consent. Most of our thoughts and emotions are pre-programmed. What exactly is one holding onto? Wouldnāt this be the ultimate realization of freedom and transcendence?
Interrupting the philosophical considerations, practicality begs our attention. With AI, we must adapt and evolve or fade into fossils. Automation is our near-term destiny. Why not lean into it? But what will we become?
Thatās the existential question every generation born of technology gets to ask.
Iām curious and want to explore.Ā
Iām going to build this.
Iāll call it my Autonomous Self.
Kids canāt sleep tonight because theyāre too excited for tomorrow morning š. Adults canāt sleep because theyāre thinking about all their problems. Soon weāll all become kids again. Sleep tight.
Humans have identified themselves throughout history by:
- Villages
- Countries
- Religion
- Race
Etc..
The final step in this journey will be for us to identify as human foremost and all else second.
This will be necessary when we inevitably make first contact with Aliens.
The human psyche has weather. When we feel bad about the present and future, itās cloudy in our psyche. When our psyche is cloudy, it colors everything. Things feel gloomier, angrier, scarier, and more depressing. This of course has all kinds of negative effects on behavior.
/1
Likewise, gratitude and optimism open up a bright blue sky in the psyche. This feels blissful and energizing and fosters kindness.
These behaviors generate more of the weather that produced them. So psyche weather is contagious, and it can spread like an epidemic.
/2
People know something is wrong in society right now but it can be hard to articulate.
I think what sucks right now is that a massive epidemic, maybe pandemic, of dark cloudy psyche skies has spread.
(Covid doesnāt help, but this has been going on a lot longer than Covid.)
/3
I think a huge part of the problem is that the antidote to a negativity epidemic is sunny rhetoricābut the political atmosphere has made sunny rhetoric *taboo*.
Expressing gratitude and optimism will get you smeared as callous, privileged, ignorant, malicious.
/4
And part of the reason for this reaction is that pessimism, cynicism, and grievance are the lifeblood of political extremism. Extreme narratives need to crush sunny mentality like a virus in order to survive. The punishing of positivity is an immune system response.
/5
I donāt think this is usually malicious. Itās having been convinced that reality is so grim that it seems like anyone who feels otherwise must be an asshole or an idiot.
/end