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This post is Part 2 of a series. Read Part 1 here.
In Part 1 of this series, I described the delicious experience of a new idea appearing in my mind, a fresh curiosity that I wanted to spend time with and possibly build out into an article or more. I wrote about the ways that the introduction of AI into my writing process, and my growing habit of using it for information and research, had started to change and disrupt the excitement I’d always felt in a new curiosity, the sense of adventure and zest that came with the birth of a new idea. I noticed that with AI’s “help,” I’d stopped surrendering to my own curiosity and stopped allowing my curiosity to lead the way and show me what it wanted to follow.
My mind had turned writing into an intellectual exercise, which I (or more accurately, AI) was now controlling. What I thought or in the past would have discovered was interesting about a new idea, for me, had become irrelevant. AI was to determine the direction of my exploration. I was following whatever AI deemed was worth following, offer my take on what other people considered valuable about my idea. I’d let AI become my writer and me its editor.
I shared how the creative process had shifted from something that felt collaborative and in relationship with something mysterious and alive, with creativity and curiosity itself, to being something that felt like a book report I had to write. What had been a spark shared by my body and mind was now held hostage by my head. Writing had become a “should” rather than a “want”; a new idea, a fresh curiosity, or pondering had gone from being a gift to being a burden.
I posited that AI has the power to fundamentally change the creative process for humans, and therefore, to change what we create and who we are. But most importantly, it has the power to change our very experience of creating, to strip creativity of its awe factor. Relying on AI and its wealth of ideas and information, and using it to drive and direct our own imagination, has real and profound consequences. Unless we stay truly conscious and disciplined, consulting with AI as we’re creating can result in our giving AI the right to decide what we investigate, deem interesting, and the choices we make as creators. We can end up using AI’s ideas as our guide in place of our own inner guide.
What’s so beautiful about the creative process is that it offers us the opportunity to let go of our need to be in control. Creativity offers the invitation for us to relax and trust that something larger, a generative energy within us, the magical space from which all thoughts, ideas, intuition, and wisdom emerge, will step up and collaborate with us on our idea. The contemplative nature of creating offers us permission to not know, to live in the questions, not have all the answers, and not fill in the unknowns with what we already know.
For most humans, however, not knowing and living in the questions is a dreaded experience. If we don’t know the answers, we’re not in control—bad things could happen to us. That said, I wonder if AI isn’t providing us with yet another seductive method for avoiding this place of not knowing that we loathe and fear—the unknown, the uncertain. Is AI our newest way to eliminate uncertainty, a more advanced and sparkly way to fill in the unknowns with all that we know?
It makes me wonder too: Do we still trust that anything larger than us could possibly exist, a life force that can create on its own, and one that we can’t entirely understand? Do we still believe that anything could be born that we don’t entirely control? Is there still a place for mystery in our lives, a sense of awe for what just comes with our admission into existence, and all that we didn’t make happen or do? Furthermore, do we still trust that we can survive not knowing, that answers might come from a place beyond us, answers for which we are not entirely the authors? Is there anything left in our lives that we think our minds cannot control and do better?
