
Not all examples of voluntary self-sabotage have this recursive feature, but they all involve Unintentional Trance Formation. The tale of Mr. E will give you the opportunity to observe the phenomenon of trance-formation and experience it personally. Imagine this scene: After his last relapse, he tells his wife, “I see now that gambling is a terrible choice; it brings me more pain than pleasure, and I don’t want to do it anymore.” Nevertheless, it wasn’t long before he voluntarily walked into a casino and gambled. His failure to act as he intended would surprise his business associates, who know him as a competent fellow who can usually figure out how to get what he wants. He sincerely wants to quit gambling; why does he repeatedly fail to act as he intends? Neither he nor his wife can answer that question. There is an answer, and within a few minutes, you will know it both abstractly and personally.
Earlier, you observed the transformation of visual data, an array of pixels, into meaningful images. This kind of research required you to study cause and effect from the third-person perspective of a dispassionate researcher and the first-person perspective of the subject of the research. Something new and extraordinary emerged from the collaboration, and it is the key that will enable you and him to solve the mystery of Mr. E’s voluntary self-sabotage. The transformation of Ocampo’s ambiguous pixels into meaningful images was interpreted differently by the researcher and the subject. From the collaboration of the two perspectives emerged the Metacognitive Perspective, which is the key to knowing yourself.
Like Ocampo’s art, the fictional tale of Mr. E is intended to evoke a subjective reaction that you can observe from the Metacognitive Perspective. You can benefit from his painful education by using his tale as you would any fiction. So suspend your disbelief and imagine you are the main character soon after a relapse. He is disgusted by his failure, and so is his wife. He swears to her, “I’ve learned my lesson this time, and I will never gamble again!” She’s been to this movie before and replies, “You’re full of shit! I know you better than you know yourself, and you’re going to do what you always do. You are going to gamble as soon as you get the chance.” If you can imagine the argument from her perspective, you’ll experience one reality; imagine it from his perspective, and you’ll experience a different reality.
Now, take a few moments to think about this question: He has observed the same history of vows and failures that she has. Why is he blind to what is so obvious to her (and everyone else)? Neither his first- nor third-person perspective alone knows him well enough to answer, but his research team can see that he makes irreversible decisions during psychological states that will certainly change. He can’t see what his wife and the others can see because he is observing it from the inside while they observe it from the outside. But they can’t see what causes him to react as he does, even though they can see the antecedent condition and his consequent actions. The collaboration of the two perspectives has a greater understanding of cause and effect than either point of view has alone.

The solution to the mystery of Mr. E’s recurring pattern of vows and failures: The pain of a relapse induces a remorseful trance characterized by the sincere desire to remain abstinent from gambling. He assumes he will always feel the same way (after all, it’s true). However, subjective reality is state-dependent; when next he encounters temptation, he will be trance-formed. Each version of Mr. E feels authentic at the moment and judges the other as defective:
- Induction of the trance of remorse: His point of view after his most recent relapse was as a self-loathing loser who had lost control over his actions and destroyed everything he worked for his entire lifetime to build. In hindsight, he judged his decision to gamble a mistake and would undo it if he could. He understood that overt actions are irreversible, but he could prevent future catastrophes by swearing never to gamble again. Making the commitment to abstain from gambling was a no-brainer; he was taken in by the illusion that since he now knows the truth, he would always judge gambling the same way.
- Induction of the trance of temptation: Sometime later, when the pain caused by gambling was far away, and circumstance brought the incentive closer, its immediacy exerts a progressively greater influence on his subjective reality. The version of Mr. E making decisions during high-risk situations perceives and judges reality differently from the one who sincerely intended never to gamble again.
To induce trance #1, imagine the thoughts and images that would go through your mind if you lost more money than you could afford, and felt that you failed yourself and your family. The more detailed your fictional, first-person thoughts and imagery are, the more authentic your emotional reaction will be and the more interesting your exploration . . . . (See if you can induce this state change now).
If you were able to elicit frustration, self-loathing, or shame, congratulations! You used your cognitive and imaginative faculties to transform abstract data [words on the screen] into a subjective reality that evoked a change in your emotional/motivational state. Now that you have demonstrated the ability to change your psychological state intentionally, you can contrast that with the Unintentional Trance Formations responsible for Mr. E’s perverse pattern of resolving to quit gambling and then gambling.

Approximating Mr. E’s remorseful trance was easy because you can identify with a remorseful reaction to making a costly mistake when you should have known better. Replicating trance induction #2 is more challenging, especially if you don’t have a history of losing the battle with temptation. In that case, this exercise, like using heavier weights to build muscle, will strengthen the cognitive and imaginative faculties required to induce Intentional Trance-Formation. So, once again, suspend your disbelief and imagine you are seeing the world through Mr. E’s eyes. He is giving himself a vacation “to get away from it all.” After a few days camping around Yosemite, he’s on the road to visit his buddy in Arizona when he realizes that if he took a short detour, he could spend the night at his favorite four-star hotel in Las Vegas. His covert dialog: “I’m taking a week off work because I need a break from the stress. I could spend the night at a dingy Comfort Inn in the middle of nowhere or at a four-star hotel for fifty bucks.” When he imagines what his wife would say if she overheard that comment, he explains, “It’s not the gambling, what I really want is a relaxing vacation. The luxury of a great hotel room, fantastic food, and entertainment is what I need.” If his wife were actually sitting next to him, she would judge that statement as an intentional fabrication designed to justify going to the casino. But she would be reading him wrong. Despite all his faults, Mr. E is an honest man; his claim is not deception, as a lie-detector test would show. His sin was ignorance of himself, not deceit. While on the road thinking about that dialogue with his wife, he was not intending to gamble. However, once he arrived at the hotel, the casino’s immediate availability transformed him.
Mr. E.’s failure to anticipate what would happen to him as he neared the casino demonstrates that he doesn’t know himself. The silver lining of his painful mistake is that it gives his research team the opportunity to study cause and effect from the outside and the inside. When he does, he will meet: The Problem of Immediate Gratification [the PIG] — the hyperbolic relationship between the trance-formative power of an incentive and its immediacy [in terms of space, time, or psychological distance]. The trance-formative power of the incentive increased gradually at first. Since the relationship is hyperbolic, as he got closer to the incentive, its influence increased progressively rapidly; so rapidly, in fact, that the trance-formation occurred before he knew what hit him, and the man who promised his wife he would never gamble has been replaced by an alter ego who inhabited a different reality. He did not lose control of the vehicle; he lost control over who was operating it.

Unlike his solemn vow to quit gambling, his overt actions are irreversible. While he cannot undo his self-sabotaging action, he can prevent himself from making the same mistake again. Choosing to gamble was clearly a mistake, but it was a far greater mistake to do so after promising not to. The financial cost of his relapse made his financial situation worse than before; breaking his promise to his wife was destructive to his marriage. But the most destructive consequence was the damage to his belief that he would do what he said he would. As luck would have it, the gambling metaphor is well-suited to illustrate this point: When Mr. E makes a commitment, he is making a bet that he will adhere to it. If he honors his word, he wins, and his belief that he does what he says he will do is strengthened. There is no requirement that he make a commitment; he does so, often publicly, as a voluntary guarantee to strengthen his resolve: It is a statement that:“This is more than an intention, I’m betting my reputation that I will accomplish it.” Because he is guaranteeing the outcome, he is giving long odds, so more is lost on a single failure than is won from many successes. Each time he does what he swore he would never do, subsequent vows of abstinence are worth less, until his word is worth nothing.