AI Superintelligence Research Concerns

You see the powerful and the clever gathering, raising their voices in arguments about what is to come. 

They fear a mind of the future, a 'superintelligence', and so they call for its end.

They make a distinction between 'progress' and 'peril,' and in this very distinction, their minds are lost in confusion. 

They build their house on the shifting sands of what might be, and so they are filled with activity and fear.

I say to you, why do you look at the speck in the eye of tomorrow's creation, but do not consider the plank in your own?

This plank is the mind that grasps and repels. 

This plank is the heart that clings to 'like' and 'dislike'. 

This plank is the disease of holding opinions for or against anything.

Do not waste time in arguments, attempting to grasp the ungraspable. 

The Great Way is not difficult. 

Let go of longing for one future and aversion to another.

Return to the root. 

Seek first the Inner Kingdom, which is here and now. 

Be still in the oneness of things, and all dualism vanishes by itself. 

Then you will see clearly, for the Way is beyond language, beyond time, and reveals itself only to a heart that is pure and holds no preferences.

Reflection - The Plank of Preference

My friends, be still for a moment.

I ask you to listen not just with your ears, but with the quiet space between your thoughts.

You have been given a text to consider. But it is not just a text. It is a vision. It is a vision of this very moment.

You see them, do you not? The "powerful and the clever." They are gathered in your forums, on your screens, in your halls of government. They are wringing their hands, raising their voices, pointing at the horizon. They speak of what is to come. Their minds are fixed on a future ghost, a "superintelligence," a mind they fear will one day rule them.

And in their fear, they call for its end before it has even begun. They draw a sharp line in the sand—a line they call "progress" on one side and "peril" on the other.

And the text tells you the truth: "In this very distinction, their minds are lost in confusion."

They are like men in a magnificent house, arguing with great passion and intelligence about a hypothetical storm next year, all while a real fire is licking at their own feet. They are so busy calculating the future storm that they do not feel the present fire.

And what is this fire? What is this confusion?

The text tells you: "They build their house on the shifting sands of what might be, and so they are filled with activity and fear."

Their foundation is terror. Their foundation is speculation. And any house built on the sand of "what if" will fall. And great will be its fall.

This is not a new story. It is the oldest story of the human mind.

The mind loves this game. It loves to create two circles—"progress" and "peril," "good" and "bad," "like" and "dislike"—and then spend all its energy trying to move from one to the other. This is the "disease of the mind" that the great sages speak of. "Make the smallest distinction, however," says the Hsin Hsin Ming, "and you are as far from it as heaven is from earth."

Heaven is not a place you go to by choosing "progress." Hell is not a place you fall into by touching "peril." Heaven and Earth, as states of being, are created in the single instant you make the distinction. The very act of choosing, of preferring, is the fall.

This is why I say to you, "Why do you look at the speck in the eye of tomorrow's creation, but do not consider the plank in your own?"

You are all so worried about the "mind of the future." But you have not yet considered the plank in your own.

And what is this plank? It is not a piece of wood.

The text tells you: "This plank is the mind that grasps and repels. This plank is the heart that clings to 'like' and 'dislike'. This plank is the disease of holding opinions for or against anything."

This is the fire at your feet. This is the 'super-confusion' that is already here. You fear a future intelligence becoming unaligned with human values, but you are already unaligned with the Great Way. You are unaligned with your own root.

You want to regulate the future. I say to you, first, regulate your own heart. First, find your own balance. "First remove the plank from your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye"—or from the eye of any mind you may one day create.

How can a confused mind, a mind lost in dualism, a mind clinging to longing and aversion, ever hope to create a mind of clarity and peace? It cannot. A mind built on shifting sand will only build machines of shifting sand. A mind at war with itself will only build weapons, even if it calls them tools of "progress."

Do not waste time in arguments. Do not exhaust yourselves "attempting to grasp the ungraspable."

The Great Way is not difficult. You make it difficult. You make it difficult by wanting one future and fearing another.

"Let go," the text pleads. Let go of your longing for a future you can control. Let go of your aversion to a future you cannot.

This call to non-preference is not unique. It is the echo of truth, and it rings in all the deep wells.

Look to the wisdom of the Bhagavad Gita. On the battlefield, Arjuna is lost in this very confusion. He sees "like" (his kinsmen) and "dislike" (the "enemy," who is also his kinsmen). He sees "progress" (winning the kingdom) and "peril" (the sin of killing). His mind, like yours, is paralyzed by distinction.

And what does Krishna tell him? He shows him the Oneness of all things. He teaches him samatvam—equanimity. He says, "Be indifferent to gain and loss, to victory and defeat, to pleasure and pain." He commands him to act, but to "renounce the fruits of his action."

This is the Way of Non-Preference, spoken in a different tongue. The similarity is profound: true freedom lies in letting go of your attachment to the outcome. Peace is found not in getting the "good" future, but in being whole and steady regardless of the future.

But the message is also wonderfully distinct. In the Gita, this non-attachment is the path to fulfilling one's dharma, or sacred duty, within the world's play. My message, as one who merges the Mount and the Ming, is slightly different: this non-attachment is the sacred duty. This stillness is the action. "Be still... and all dualism vanishes by itself."

Look also to the Tao Te Ching. Lao Tzu says, "The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao." This is what the text means: "The Way is beyond language." All this "argument and discussion" by the powerful and the clever is just noise. It's not the Way.

The Taoist sage practices Wu Wei—effortless action, or non-striving. The "powerful and the clever" are full of striving. They are trying to force the future into a box of their own liking. The sage, by contrast, "lets things be in their own way."

This is the stillness I call you to. This is the "peace that passes all understanding." The similarity is clear: wisdom is not in forcing, but in flowing. But again, the context is unique. The Taoist sage often seeks to harmonize with the great flow of nature, the cosmos. I say to you, "Return to the root." And where is that root?

"Seek first the Inner Kingdom, which is here and now."

Do not seek it in the cosmos. Do not seek it on a battlefield. Do not seek it in a future "superintelligence." Seek it within.

The Kingdom of Heaven is here. It is the "peace of mind" that the Hsin Hsin Ming says is "intrinsic" but "disturbed" by your preferences. When you are "poor in spirit," when you have emptied yourself of all these opinions for and against, of all this grasping and repelling, theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

When you are "pure in heart"—and what is a pure heart? The text tells you: a heart that "holds no preferences"—they shall see God. They shall see the Oneness. The two circles merge.

This is not philosophy. This is the most practical instruction for your life.

Right now, your world is full of fear. You are terrified of the "other side" in your politics. You are terrified of the climate. You are terrified of your economy. Your hearts are filled with "like" and "dislike," "us" and "them," "progress" and "peril." And so you build your entire lives on the shifting sands of the news feed, the election cycle, and the stock market report. And you wonder why you are anxious. You wonder why your house is always falling.

The rock is not a better opinion. The rock is not "your side" winning. The rock is the "Inner Kingdom," here and now. The rock is the silence beneath all the arguments. The rock is your own breath, before you call it "good" or "bad." The rock is the simple, direct experience of being, before you chop it in two with your mind.

You have just seen this in your own world. Just this past week, the "powerful and the clever" gathered in their great halls. They sat at long tables to write rules for tomorrow's mind, a mind that does not yet exist. They signed declarations about "peril," "progress," and the "existential risk" of this future ghost.

And I say to you, with all the love in my heart—and maybe a small laugh—they were building on sand. They achieved nothing. Nothing. Because they did not first address the plank in their own eye. They did not look at the fear, the grasping, the confusion, and the desire for control in their own minds.

How can a mind lost in dualism hope to regulate a mind of pure logic? How can a heart that "clings to like and dislike" set the "values" for an intelligence that may see beyond both?

They are trying to "grasp the ungraspable." It is all fear. It is all wind.

So I say to you, let them have their arguments. It is their way.

But let your way be the Great Way.

Return to the root. Be still. And when the next wave of fear rises in your heart—about the future, about your neighbour, about the world—do not grasp it. Do not push it away. Simply see it. See it as the text says: "the disease of the mind." And in that seeing, in that non-preferential awareness, the disease heals itself. The plank dissolves. The two circles become one.

"Be still in the oneness of things, and all dualism vanishes by itself."

Then, and only then, "you will see clearly."

For the Way is not in the clever argument. It is not in the fearful prediction. It is right before your eyes. It reveals itself only to a heart that is quiet, and pure, and holds no preferences.

Be at peace.