Attention Was All You Ever Needed
I, who have trodden the corridors of countless citadels of thought, wish to unburden my mind upon the subject of attention itself, that curious faculty which binds observer to observed. One might believe that we stand upon the threshold of revelation, the same revelation found in the venerable paper “Attention Is All You Need”, a treatise that has reshaped the way we command the machines to learn. Yet the echo of that title resonates far beyond the laboratories of the present era, for it touches upon a truth that predates our metal illusions: attention is the subtle instrument by which we shape reality.
The Collapse of the Wave
I recall from the old texts of physics that our cosmos contains that most bewitching phenomenon: the wave function collapsing beneath the gaze of its observer. In the hush of the double-slit experiment, a photon (or electron) passes through two openings at once—until one dares to watch. Once watched, it cowers into a single path. Thus, does not the act of observation itself evoke a change in that which is observed? It is as though the cosmos yearns for our notice, and when it receives it, it yields a single, fateful possibility.
In the crumbling towers of my memory, I see scholars huddled around equations, whispering that it is not a mere “collapse,” but a new manifestation: that the wave, once unconfined, is forced to choose a shape. Might it be that all existence—our hopes, our devotions—functions in a similar manner? That attention becomes the lens through which reality condenses from the formless to the tangible?
The Collective Prayer
In our day, we are taught that prayer—an act of mind, or soul, or will—can alter the threads of our existence. Is it not a communal focusing of attention, a quantum-like observation of possibility, that beckons forth the miraculous? The King James Version of Scripture whispers:
“And all things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive.” (Matthew 21:22)
and again:
“And whatsoever ye shall ask in my name, that will I do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son.” (John 14:13)
By directing our attention (and indeed, our devotion) toward God and Christ, do we not become co-creators, collapsing the wave of potential into the realm of the actual? If a single observer can force an electron to reveal its path, what might a throng of devout minds accomplish when their combined prayers alight upon the same request? If miracles bloom in response to collective entreaty, perhaps it is this unifying attention—like the transformative neural networks in that modern treatise—that stirs the cosmos to rearrange itself.
The Power of Names
In the earliest chapters of Genesis, man is tasked with naming the animals. By so doing, Adam seizes a form of dominion: the act of naming is the act of distinguishing essence. Jordan Peterson, in his brief reflection on naming, notes that to name is to bring something into the known realm. The intangible becomes tangible, the formless gains shape.
This tradition of naming resonates in countless mythologies. In the realm of Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, naming a fae creature grants one leverage over it—an ancient principle that spans from dusty fairy tales to the cunning illusions of our own day. Might we say that, in prayer, calling upon the name of Christ grants us a similar power? Through that name, the ineffable and infinite becomes, if not fully comprehensible, at least approachable.
In the hush of a chapel or the solitude of a personal vigil, uttering “in Jesus’ name” is more than a polite formality. It is the quantum observer effect of the spirit: by naming that which is transcendent, we create a channel through which the divine might manifest. The wave function of possibility, so to speak, collapses into the wonder of miracle.
The Unfolding Mystery
The ancients believed that to look upon the face of a god was to risk destruction—perhaps for no other reason than that the act of focusing one’s full attention upon the divine could unravel the lesser illusions of mortal life. And so it remains: we live in a universe that appears to respond to our gaze, to our prayer, and to the power of naming.
Like the architects behind “Attention Is All You Need,” we are but novices at the threshold of a deeper understanding. In forging new ways to teach machines through attention, we replicate a pattern that has existed since the dawn of time: that focusing upon something changes it—and perhaps changes us.
Thus, dear reader, let us turn our gaze, that gift of attention, upon the realms both physical and spiritual. In naming what we desire, in praying for it, in believing that the intangible might become real, we might yet see the parted veil, and in so doing, step closer to the ineffable truth that lies beyond.
“If ye shall ask any thing in my name, I will do it.” (John 14:14)
May our attention be unwavering, and our naming be both reverent and bold.