The Value of Words?
I can’t shake the reality that we’re training tech to be like us and tech is training us to be mechanical.
Hi there. I’m reflecting on words as I often do. I admire the word deeply and am drawn toward the flame from within it. Then I consider the word words (plural of word). With an esoteric stretch of my mind, I consider the word worlds and then extrapolate the existence of words from within it. Could it be that words create worlds as building blocks of being? John 1:1 so eloquently described, In the beginning was the word, what does this mean? Does this scripture allude that all of creation came from the utterance of sound, which evolved into an articulation of structured resonance that gave rise to the description of form that somehow evoked the materialization of the hummed/sung/spoken…idea? Even if you are not religious, this contemplation is a fascinating exercise of expanding your perception.
I love exploring the meanings words exude, the origins from which they begin expressing life and creation, and their journey over time. I’m curious as to how they evolve and travel through facets of representation, various cultures, and relevance, as parts of them are later used to create other words accepted in the modern world, and other aspects of words are discarded into “the past” i.e. do you ever hear anyone speaking in Old English? Or perhaps a lost indigenous language that no longer has tongues to speak it?
Expressions of Being
Writing this, I can relate to words. I feel the flame within me burning powerfully, and could also play with the associated meanings of “Ciela” if I chose to. I think back upon my origin, family of origin, and bloodline or starline perhaps, as well as past lives—the journey I’ve lived and have clear memories of until this very breath. Over time, and throughout the ages, I’ve been many people. There was a period of my life when remembering past lives was the primary focus of my internal investigations as I was tracking habits, behavioral patterns, and thought grooves that had taken me into very questionable circumstances that nearly cost me my life. In studying myself and observing these very old ways of being, I was brought into a “recovery” of memory imperative for specific inner work towards liberation of karma. TMI? I don’t think so, but you tell me. I don’t tend to share from these personal depths, but I might start to more as it isn’t a secret, it is just challenging at times to bring the inner to the outer, and that is where words come in.
Back to early memories, and specifically from my current life childhood—I feel a tenderness that, alas, my dreams of being a dinosaur feeder never came to fruition, at least thus far. However, myself as an artist, dreamer, healer, inner explorer, entrepreneur, star poet, singer, writer, etc, certainly have been represented as facets of the materialized self as I breathe and live out my destiny. It is still TBD as to how this all plays out, and I am thrilled to be alive, on the edge of my seat, and observing with gleeful anticipation. How extraordinary that we get to Be here. Every day, I become more aware of the aspects of me that still exist as multi-directional threads to previous selves and also the lifeline to my future self…other threads seem to dissolve once I’ve worked those karmic ties into a pulp—not easy, but from my perspective, it is possible.
Considering “words” in this week's journal as a theme emerged in considering my relationship to them as a writer and how my current relationship to words is often encapsulated on the page as a way to connect with my community and give life to my inner expression of the outer moment. Or inside the camera obscura of now, I am curious if it is the inner expression or the outer moment that is the compelling element of what wants to be written that then inspires the latter. Does it matter? I digress…
An Ocean of Words
There are so many words today that have been brought into the sphere of the world. Everyone is writing, speaking, or protesting, it seems, and if they are not, they are probably talking about someone else and what that person is writing, speaking, or protesting about. I feel like I am swimming in an ocean of words, and instead of listening to the constant flow of outer ideas, I have been very drawn into the realm of inner observations and solitude from the plethora of external voices when possible.
And then there is ChatGPT. Honestly, I feel resonant with Michael Meade when he speaks about AI for what it is…Artificial. I, too, prefer Actual Intelligence. Look, I was the last person in my friend group to get a cell phone, and then I was the last to turn in my flip phone for an iPhone. I would rather come late to the tech party any day as I drag my heels into an Artificial Future. I was hiking with a dear friend the other day, who is also a writer, who was sharing some of their favorite ways they are utilizing AI. I told him straight up how hesitant I have been, as I loathe the idea of collaborating in this regard. However, he made it sound fun, and I promised to try.
In my brief and recent exploration of ChatGPT, I have found the results to my questions to be….drum roll…artificial. And actually, not accurate in many regards. Though some of it is interesting and at times, apparently more human than human (which is scary and points to this moment of devolution where humans are acting more like robots and robots more like humans), I can’t shake the reality that we’re training tech to be like us and tech is training us to be mechanical. Now, Zuckerberg is touting “AI Friends” as the solution to loneliness. What about “each other”, Mark? Unfortunately, many of the tech oligarchs aren’t socially adept, as we can blatantly observe. And more unfortunate than that, they are the ones at the helm of “designing” the future.
Finding Sanctuary
I don’t imagine a happy ending in this cycle which is why I hope that many of us will work with AI responsibly and creatively and defy the temptation to perpetually slip into Q and A’s with AI only to lose our precious time, breathe, and energy in feeding the machine that eventually eats us. Glass half empty? Blame the recent and final Mars/Pluto opposition squaring Black Moon Lilith. She is the guardian of the shadow, shame, and dark truths. And there are too many to name right now, so where do we go from here? Look, I am not anti-tech, I am writing this on my MacBook Pro, sharing on Substack, and have an iPhone like most of you, which has become an indispensable feature in my life, creepily over time, somehow. I realize there is no going back, at least yet. So, when considering where to turn for reprieve in this complex moment of humanity meets AI, instead of ChatGPT, personally, I turn to the word. The beginning. The origin of time as an innate sanctuary of peace and inspired awe. I am thankful I get to share and explore invaluable wor(l)ds with you here as an art form, an expression, and potentially a doorway into new realms of thought, emotions, and being (human).
All my best to you, and please receive the piece of my heart that lives inside these words.
Thank you for visiting my inner world. If you want to learn more about my work in the outer world, enjoy cielawynter.com and listen to Season 1 of my podcast here.
We cannot change the world until we accept we are the world. This is the new conversation.