Insufficient but Non-Redundant Unnecessary but Sufficient

One of the biggest boons that has ever come to me is the realization that, in all too many cases, laziness is not the problem for me. Clarity is.

I don’t want to generalize this to all of humanity on the drop of the hat but it feels to me that that is likely the case. 

It is hard not to think so when it is obvious that people have ambitions inside them and how obviously a part of them was pushing them to accomplish the things that their ambition dictated. The desire existed within them, a push of the soul, if you will, to say that they never really wanted to accomplish the things that they aspired for is, I suppose, to negate the driving force of that initial will.

Implementation is a much more difficult thing than mere wishing and most people never cross that boundary in a true or Sufficient way, and of course this can happen in the way that so many other failures happen for a million different possible reasons:

– Diversion because of life events

– Actual flagging in willpower

– Lack of a system

– Deviation from one’s word

– So many other things

Unfortunately, the world tends to collapse all these things into laziness. If only a person had tried harder, then they would succeed. To be fair, such a mentality is entirely psychologically coherent and understandable. You were unable to succeed. The method did not avail itself. You could have done a whole list of things in order to make sure that you would actually accomplish your goal.

The thing about these could-haves is that they lie in a future that was not realized, and that seems subject to a possibility only if. Also, if you weren’t able to accomplish your goal through a series of linear steps, one after another, I suppose it is normal to then blame yourself, even as you never reach the outer edge of what is really necessary. 

I suppose one of the problems here is that when we talk about success, we have a tendency to imagine causation in an incredibly linear way. You worked hard, therefore you succeeded. You did not succeed, therefore you did not work hard enough. It is a very clean story and perhaps that is part of why it is so attractive. Unfortunately, I don’t think that the world has any particular obligation to make itself quite so clean for us.

Consider hard work for a moment. Obviously, hard work matters. It would be absurd for me to suggest otherwise. But it is equally obvious that hard work by itself cannot be sufficient for success. You can work extraordinarily hard at something that does not work. You can spend years implementing a terrible plan. You can possess tremendous discipline while moving in completely the wrong direction. You can even do almost everything correctly and discover that some circumstance outside your control has decided that none of it is going to work anyway.

Planning seems to suffer from precisely the same problem. A perfect plan that is never implemented accomplishes nothing. Implementation without a plan can result in a great deal of movement without a great deal of progress. Clarity without action is useless. Action without clarity may simply allow you to become extremely efficient at accomplishing something that you never actually wanted to accomplish in the first place.

So perhaps the mistake is to imagine that any one of these things is the thing.

This was what led me back to something that the philosopher J. L. Mackie called an INUS condition, which is one of those philosophical terms that sounds considerably more complicated than the idea that it is trying to express. Mackie describes a cause as an Insufficient but Non-redundant part of an Unnecessary but Sufficient condition.

That is quite a mouthful, but the underlying idea is remarkably useful.

Suppose that success requires, in one particular case, hard work, planning, competence, feedback, persistence, and the right opportunity. Hard work by itself is not enough. Planning by itself is not enough. Persistence by itself is certainly not enough. Yet remove one of these things from this particular combination and perhaps the whole thing falls apart.

At the same time, this particular combination need not be the only possible route to success. Somebody else could arrive at exactly the same destination with more talent and less planning, more capital and less time, better connections and less effort, or through some combination of circumstances that was never available to you in the first place.

This, I think, is where the idea becomes extremely important.

Hard work can be genuinely causal without being sufficient. Planning can be genuinely causal without being sufficient. Clarity can matter enormously without being sufficient. All of them can be indispensable parts of one route while still not being indispensable to every possible route.

And once you see success in that way, the statement that you simply “didn’t try hard enough” begins to look rather strange.

Perhaps you didn’t. That certainly happens.

But perhaps effort was never the missing condition at all.

As I move forward with the entire constellation of different things that I’m learning at the moment and the goals that I’m trying to compress and distill my time for, I suppose I’m hit up for a few possible causal configurations. It is not always certain to me which new ones will take shape, but what is clear is that a lot of this is coming to me intuitively, even as the structure materializes with increasing clarity each day. 

On cognitive switching

One of the things that we discover throughout the course of life is that there’s a distinct difference between thinking that you are being productive or useful and actually being productive and useful. 

One of the key parts of that is what we call cognitive switching, which is a phenomenon that I find deeply fascinating for the simple reason that it can either be performed to detriment or in the name of good, depending on how you do it.

It really is an art, though, and let me illustrate why. If a person were to switch from one task to another naturally, what happens is that they lose focus on the task that they were previously doing to go to the next one. They also have to adjust. Typically, there’s going to be a certain adjustment period before the mind finally acclimatizes itself to the next task, and as a result, productivity drops during this time.

For that reason, pundits and thinkers declare that multitasking is fake, saying that if you switch from one task, naturally your focus goes away. When it goes away, then there ends the possibility that you get anything done.

Now, I’ve come to realize that there is a certain degree of truth to that.

Try to split up your attention too much between different competing priorities, and perhaps you will never commit sufficient energy to any individual one of them, so that you’d be able to do any of them. It’s then easy to just end up in tunnel vision.

There may be a time at which there are diminishing marginal returns for every hour of effort that goes in, suggesting that perhaps it is only true that the returns to scale of continuous effort in a specific area can actually hold. After which, it would not only be advisable but also eminently logical to switch to the next task. 

I’m learning this right now. I’m understanding how to balance practicing hard on one task before proceeding to the next one, while at the same time dedicating adequate focus to every single instance. The thing I’m investing myself in is really a balance, and being able to make sure that everything can actually be done is, at times, apparently a miracle. It gets a little easier the more our skills improve along the way.

I find it fascinating that cognitive matters can be parceled out in this way, though. It does make me wonder about what the absolute best way of doing things is, such that it’s possible to attain the best possibilities in each case. To me, it seems like something magical: the result of being able to split up one’s mind into multiple parts and to be able to summon them towards one’s overall advancement.

Far be it from me to be able to claim that I can actually attain the depth of mastery necessary, or adequately profound, to attain what I aspire for in this lifetime. It feels like I am on a journey, and I am just scraping the edge of what is possible. 

Far be it from me to proclaim that this is not anything more than just a small experiment in consciousness for personal use, rather than a route towards an enlightenment the world has not known. It is interesting, unique, and personal to me as part of this process of experimenting with consciousness, tinkering around with it as if in a lab with instruments, and seeing what happens along the way. 

Discipline and Freedom

Every morning I’m in the gym, I call out:”Hey Siri, one minute!” – and every five minutes I run, I say “Five minutes!”.

It’s been like this for a while, as part of some process of systematization that’s started happening in my head sooner than I could say any lickety-splits or even consciously question why it should be like that.

If it seems a little robotic, rest assured that I think the same – but that if I try to look back onto how I became this way and why, the explanation seems simple:

It seems to be a result of my matured understanding of what freedom consists of.

Perhaps that seems a little paradoxical, but it becomes a little easier when you quantify the result in this case: An hour and a half of exercise in total, continued weight loss, muscle retention, as compared to three hours doing the exact same thing and then getting fatter.

In other words? Less expenditure for a better result.

I suppose if I look a little deeper within and across this externalized record, it becomes more clear how this came about.

In late June, I wrote The Value of Time, in which I talked about how I feel every second now, how it all passes and comes by – how I refuse to waste the seconds as they flow into minutes; if I were to expand on that, I guess I could say that time is after all how we experience life in its shades – at the end of the 3600 seconds that make up the next hour from this word on, an hour of my life and your life will be gone – and how we experienced that hour is an experience we earned with our time and that we will never get back.

A. Do I want to experience that hour either trying to accomplish the goal that I set for myself to accomplish in far excess of what is actually needed in order to accomplish it?

B. Do I want to experience it in that state of loss where I am yet to reach it and therefore yearn for it, putting myself back into the cycle of A), or do I prefer to spend it in the confidence that I was able to accomplish my goals?

I suppose B) is a lot better – but that’s also why I started using the timers – the extended feeling of efficiency, the feeling of unloading of a cognitive burden – the realization that suffering would happen and time would pass regardless of what we did and that therefore, planning out a reality where as little time was spent so that we could have better choices and options with our time might make a little more sense than slogging away and trying to reach something that we never were working for in the right way.

In a weird way, the timers produce abundance – the discipline produces freedom.

This is one of the many strange and small contradictions that the world permits, I suppose.

There are probably many more of them that I’ve yet to know, experience, have thought about, or processed.

I wonder what they consist of, and what experiences will trigger me to think about them and then level up.

Whatever they are, I look forward to meeting future me. 🙂