Effing the ineffable

08 Dec 2022

lovecraft was weak for thinking that his shit was spooky. if i saw an eldritch horror i would just comprehend it

@echo_aster, Jan 27, 2022

At a high enough level, there is really only one proper course of action in any situation: one should perceive the right thing to do, and then one should do it.

It is easy to do the right thing once it has been perceived to be such. If the right thing were difficult, the right thing to do would really be to make the difficult task easier. Therefore, the right thing to do is never difficult or impossible. If one truly perceives the right thing to do, there is no difficulty in doing it; and if one ever encounters difficulty in any situation, the difficulty lies only in perceiving what to do.

We can imagine the process of perception as happening in two stages: a first, by which indefinite potential is resolved into one or several definite possibilities, and a second, by which several definite possibilities are resolved into a single choice. These being very different processes, one generative and one discriminative, we ought to say that they are separate capacities of the mind.

Regardless of whether these abstract stages map to cleanly divided phenomena in reality, the existence of these capacities within the mind is sufficient and largely necessary.

Why sufficient? If we can correctly resolve sets of definite possibilities from indefinite potential, and single choices from sets of definite possibilities, we can correctly resolve single choices from indefinite potential.

Why largely necessary? First — insofar as perceiving the right thing is possible at all, it is clear that the mind requires the capacity to produce definite possibilities, if only because the right thing is such a possibility. Second — insofar as this first, generative capacity is not so developed that it suggests only the single correct course of action in every situation¹, the mind also requires the capacity to weigh multiple possibilities against one another.

Most of us are not yet so enlightened that the single correct course of action suggests itself to us immediately and without alternative. Therefore, in any situation, one’s ability to act correctly — let’s go ahead and call it The Way — consists in two things:

• Imagination, that is, the ability to efficiently produce good courses of action. Imagination requires the mind to produce good courses of action which are in fact feasible (creativity), and to avoid courses of action that are not really feasible (the reality principle).
• Judgment, that is, the ability to efficiently make good choices between these courses of action. Judgment requires the mind to correctly imagine the consequences of the actions it weighs (causality), and to evaluate each action based only on one’s enlightened interest (impartiality).

Thus right action demands two things —

• Understanding:
  • so that one may be more creative in devising courses of action, by means of synthesizing previous analogues;
  • so that one may apply the reality principle more effectively, by understanding well the shape of the world and the constraints it imposes;
  • and so that one may be more causally accurate in imagining the consequences of actions, by understanding the causal structure of the world.
• Tranquility:
  • so that one may be more creative in devising courses of action, by not being attached to a particular course of action out of fear or conservatism;
  • and so that one may be more impartial in evaluating the consequences of actions, by not being swayed by petty fears and attachments.

The relationships between this rapidly proliferating set of concepts look like this:

To a large extent, the Way consists in understanding and tranquility, and many questions in life deal with the practical details of attaining the two:

• Does one best acquire understanding through study, or through experience? Are certain forms of understanding more conducive to one or the other?
• Is understanding a fluid thing that evolves, or a fixed thing that accumulates? That is, should we free ourselves from constraints, or should we cultivate them?
• What ends are considered enlightened, and what ends are considered petty? That is, where ought one to draw the line between tranquility and apathy?
• etc. etc. etc.

Without answering any of these questions, we can attempt to speak the Way (yes, the same Way that “cannot be spoken”) in a general and effectively prescriptive sense.

• One should generally cultivate a disposition of tranquility, so as to more readily to perceive the right thing to do.
• Then, in any situation:
  • If it is clear what one should do, and easy, then one should do it.
  • If it seems clear but difficult, understand that you have not yet fully perceived what to do. Think about how to make the task easier and begin there.
  • If, on the other hand, it is not clear at all, then one should examine whether the problem is a weakness of imagination or a weakness of judgment. Knowing this, one should then examine the nature of this weakness, and determine whether it is a lack of understanding, tranquility, or both.
    • If the problem is a lack of understanding, one should mobilize whatever resources are available to acquire understanding.
    • If the problem is a lack of tranquility, one should take a deep breath and distance themselves from the situation, aiming to become tranquil.

Granted, this entire argument has proceeded in relentlessly abstract terms, and at moments one wonders whether the whole thing is a pedantic exercise in analytic framework-building. But there’s a basic practicality to the understanding that every individual failure is essentially a failure to perceive, and I think I’ve traced a reasonable answer to the subsequent question of how to remove the barriers to perception. In moments of uncertainty, confusion, or avolition, we now have tools to prod more deeply into the nature of the problem, and begin more effectively to address it.

Moreover, there’s value in splitting the mind into separate faculties, and in recognizing — in the very passivity of the concept of “perception,” as distinct from, say, “observation” — the intractability of deterministic algorithms for problem solving. Rather than imagining problem solving as a syllogistic process undertaken by one’s internal monologue, it is better perhaps to think of an actual organ or set of organs in the mind, trained on one’s experience and conditioned on the state of one’s body, that is responsible for generating ideas.² This suggests new ways to improve one’s efficacy by cultivating the right conditions for each organ to do its job. It becomes clear, for instance, that to “think from first principles” is less about plunging oneself into a Cartesian nightmare of doubt and ratiocination, and more about flushing out the gunk accumulated in the mind every once in a while.

Finally, we gain a clear foundation for why attachment can be a hindrance to perception. Some Eastern philosophies are unpalatable to a Western audience (or palatable to unpalatable segments of a Western audience) because they seem to advocate a kind of apathy, or a kind of nihilism. Putting aside the question of the moral value of caring as an act in itself, it is clear that becoming attached to a particular course of action, state of affairs, or frame of understanding is a hindrance to perception and hence to one’s mechanistic ability to attain one’s ends. While incentives function well to direct one’s attention to a specific task, a task itself is often best accomplished from a position of security and tranquility, which can be harmed by too great of a threat or reward³.