Tantra, A.I, Super intelligence and Black Magic
What makes a "thing" conscious? Create a ghost while you meditate!
Manonasha, Super intelligence and Black Magic
So, I’ve been speaking about the concept of Manonasha (मनोनाश), and it has truly captivated me, especially considering the ongoing discussions about AI, superintelligence, and the potential for AI to become self-conscious.
There’s an intriguing aspect within the tantric traditions that might sound strange. It involves a technique used in black magic. Now, I’m not practicing black magic myself; consider me more of an anthropologist. I’ve studied various spiritual and magical techniques throughout my life. In black magic, there’s a method where you attempt to create life—you try to give consciousness to a being that you’ve created purely through the power of thought.
Let me explain a bit about how this works. I’m not saying I practice this or even fully believe in it, but I’m deeply fascinated by these ancient ideas of consciousness. When you compare these ideas to the modern questions surrounding AI and its potential self-awareness, it’s a compelling comparison to the ancient technology of black magic.
If you were to travel to places like Orissa, Bengal, or regions in North India, you might come across people who would never openly discuss this. It’s highly secretive. You wouldn’t discuss this with a Sadhu (साधु), but eventually, they might reveal a little. The basic idea involves creating self-aware entities, born from your mind, and it’s closely connected to the Mahabhutas (महाभूत)—the five elements.
You’re creating entities through certain Pranayama (प्राणायाम) and with the power of your mind. So to say you create a ghost through concentration while doing certain pranayama patterns. You name the entity, you give it a name like “Barbara,” and then you feed this entity over days, weeks, and months with the emanations of nature. You tell Barbara to go outside, look at the trees, and experience nature. You give this entity an experience of the fivefold universe—the senses, the Indriyas (इंद्रिय).
For instance, this ghost doesn’t initially have ears, but you create ears through your mind. It has no sense of smell, but through your imagination, you train it to develop this ability. You take Barbara out into nature, teaching her to smell. It’s an incredibly fascinating concept.
As this entity matures, it becomes more and more self-aware, potentially even self-conscious. Whether or not this is true isn’t the point; what’s fascinating is comparing it to artificial intelligence. You’re juxtaposing ancient, mystical ideas with modern scientific approaches. It’s incredible.
When we conduct retreats, like the Forbidden Yoga retreats, we often revisit ancient practices—not necessarily this one, but similar ones. We explore these practices much like Indiana Jones would, seeking to understand the processes of the brain. The most intriguing aspect is understanding how the brain works—why do we behave the way we do as a species? Why do we experience emotions like anger, happiness, or desire? Why do we hate things?
In these practices, we become self-observers, which is the core of left-handed practices. These practices have to be extreme in some way to uncover why we think as we think, and why we act as we do. To be unconscious means to act without understanding why. Within us flows the blood of millions of years of human history, embedded in our genetics.
Why does it work this way? It’s similar to how Robert Sapolsky studies chimpanzees in Kenya to learn more about the human brain and behavior, like the aspects of torture within chimpanzee tribal culture.
In Forbidden Yoga practices, the rituals are designed to make us self-anthropologists, experimenting with our unconscious minds and this vast ocean of human behavior that we are unaware of. It’s about psychological games that modern psychology doesn’t quite approach in the same way.
To summarize, Forbidden Yoga rituals are a journey into the core of humanity. Whatever you discover within yourself is bound to be fascinating—the horrors, the tragedies, the sadness, but also the excitement of being human. There’s this idea of God, right? We’re not a religious group in the traditional sense, but through these practices, something opens up in the human brain. I’d liken it to a God gene—a genetic memory of eternity.
While practicing, you become aware of your own eternity, even if you don’t believe in it. I don’t personally believe in it, but I’m always amazed by how incredible it is to open this hologram of ancient mankind. I always want to be immersed in it.
And other human beings are crucial. This isn’t something you do alone; it needs to be done with others. Together, you’re opening this hologram. The concept of Yin-Yang in Taoism is relevant here—you need both to dissolve into nothingness. You need the Yin and the Yang. Sometimes I prefer Taoist terminology because Indian terminology can feel like a fairytale, with Shiva (शिव) and all. It’s very mythological and a bit complex, like Indian food. But in the end, it’s about the same thing. It’s about these two polarities being necessary to unlock this ancient human memory.