We recently had a big snow in my neck of the woods.
Everyone was hunkered down. The fridge was full, chicken soup was bubbling on the stove, and my book pile sat patiently on the coffee table. As the snow covered the neighborhood and the plows dumped fresh mounds over our carefully shoveled walk, we took turns peeking outside.
As a kid, snowstorms were pure joy.
The neighborhood gathered as we went sledding and built snow forts until someone’s mom called us in for hot chocolate or hot maple syrup poured onto pristine snow. After drying off in front of the fire, we played Monopoly until the next outdoor adventure began.
These days, naps and shoveling are more my speed.
“It’s still snowing,” my husband reported for the umpteenth time. Milo, with his nose pressed against the glass, stared longingly at the winter wonderland. After a while, the whole scene became a bit ridiculous.
So I channeled my inner child, bundled up, and took Milo sledding.
It was great fun, the two of us flying down a snowy hill on speedy discs, snow spraying everywhere. You can see for yourself that Milo was living his best winter life.
Except for one thing. At fourteen, Milo is deaf. He can’t walk down steps and he got stuck in the snow the last time he went outside.
So no, we didn’t go sledding.
I’m still laughing at the image I created using Milo’s post-bath photo with the help of ChatGPT. In the midst of all the controversy about AI, it felt worth remembering that a funny image can just be funny, even if it isn’t real.
These days, fake images and fabricated narratives are everywhere. That’s the moment we’re living in, and it will only become more apparent as people become more skilled with AI.
Humans making things up is not new. Civilization itself runs on shared fictions.
Myth, metaphor, theater, religion, advertising, etiquette, fashion, money, nations, marriage rituals, résumés, bedtime stories, polite smiles, academic theories, and social media bios are all constructed narratives. What has changed is the scale, speed, and reach of how stories travel.
So how do you go forward from here?
When I listen to people talk about AI, I hear fear, anger, excitement, and certainty, often all at once. There’s a lot of positional shouting about whether we’re headed for collapse or a shiny new golden age.
I’ve wanted to slow it down a bit. Not the technology itself. I’m not in charge of that. Just my own response to its obvious presence in the world.
These days, I’m practicing discernment in earnest.
Humans have always told stories to entertain, protect, educate, market, control, delight, convert, and create.
It’s complicated. So I’ve simplified it for myself with three questions.
First Question: What’s the intent? Why is this story being told?
Some stories are playful. They invite humor, imagination, or connection. Milo’s wild ride in the snow lives here. No one was harmed or misled.
Some stories are protective, using humor as a shield or storytelling as a way to hold a boundary.
And some stories are manipulative. They seek advantage at another’s expense, meant to sell, control, inflame, extract, or deceive. Our world is full of these narratives, and with AI, they can be harder to spot.
Still, it’s worth remembering that AI doesn’t create intent. Humans bring intent to the tool.
Second Question: What’s the context? Where does this story live and with whom?
A fabricated image meant to delight is not the same as one used to distort consent, truth, or power.
Absurdity works on a playground or a stage. Metaphor belongs in art and education. Accuracy matters in medicine, courts, and aviation.
The same story can be harmless in one context and dangerous in another. Right now, we’re living with massive context collapse.
When everything arrives on our screens looking equally important, information easily loses its framing, expertise, and relational cues. The answer isn’t to believe everything or to decide nothing can be trusted.
Discernment asks us to strengthen our contextual literacy.
Third Question: Who holds the power? Who benefits if this is believed? Who is impacted but can’t be heard?
A joke between friends isn’t the same as a narrative imposed on a population. The real danger isn’t fabrication itself. It’s distortion amplified by imbalance.
I understand fear and anger as responses to this messy moment, especially as people worry about the impact of AI on artists, livelihoods, education, the environment, and more.
But fear collapses discernment and anger flattens nuance.
Both push humans toward extremes and give away agency faster than any technology ever could.
Discernment, by contrast, requires a calm nervous system and a willingness to pause.
It asks simple questions: What’s being claimed? Who’s speaking? In what context? And what is being asked of me as I take this in?
As a wise human, you’re capable of asking these questions and choosing your response, including the choice to wait when something isn’t clear.
As for outsourcing creativity, critical thinking, or personal agency, that’s a human decision, not a demand made by AI. So it’s important to think for yourself before handing over that task to AI.
AI is very good at analytical intelligence: pattern recognition, extrapolation, prediction, optimization. Humans participate in a different kind of intelligence when they aren’t overwhelmed or constantly narrating experience. This natural intelligence arises through presence, attunement, coherence, relationship, and timing.
AI works with explicit pattern memory. Humans participate in living systems rich with nuance and meaning.
AI is a tool, an interface, a resource. It is not a human, a guru, a friend, or a conscience.
You choose how to use it, or not. You don’t have to hand over your agency, creativity, or natural intelligence to use a powerful tool.
Smiling at a picture of my dog wildly sledding down a snowy hill doesn’t diminish your capacity to create art, learn something new, share kindness, commune with nature, or embody wisdom.
So with all the harmful intent that has always existed in human history, remember this: don’t abandon your intelligence, your creativity, your heart, or your capacity to choose.
Stay curious. Stay relational. Stay human.
Peace be with you and with all. No exceptions.
When the world is scary and the future frightening, it is helpful to seek good news. “Tell me something good” is a phrase I’ve used at home and in my therapy practice. When I feel like the world is going to hell in a hand basket and I’m wanting reassurance that there are lots of good humans, creative ideas, and communities working together on solutions, I head to Reasons to Be Cheerful. Created by David Byrne of Talking Heads (Burning Down The House – how appropriate). Check out The Year In Cheer – 97 Ways the World Got Better in 2025. Seeking good news will not only boost your wellbeing, it might inspire you to be a beneficial presence.
Learn the one essential skill that allows you to face any challenge with confidence, sturdiness, and inner calm.
More than a technique. It’s a game changer.
ia Sophia has arrived. This “Way of Wisdom” offers an invitation to step upon a Living Spiral Path and discover a new understanding of what it means to embody the Mystical Feminine.
For the past fifteen years I have lived and taught within the Mystical Feminine. I have sat within many circles and immersions with women as we explored how to practically and powerfully engage Feminine wisdom in everyday life.
When my daughter was in eighth grade, she and her Girl Scout troop were beginning to explore ideas for their individual Silver Award projects.
Around our dinner table, we tossed around possibilities. Nothing landed. Nothing stirred real interest. So we encouraged her to do what we have always trusted. Stay open. Listen. Pay attention to what people are talking about in the world.
Driving into Soul Sanctuary last weekend, I noticed the trees were engaged in a wild dance.
I should have paid closer attention as I got out of the car, because the wind nearly took me with it. Walking to the door, I had to lean in and brace myself for a moment just to stay upright. The cold whipped through my clothes and found every uncovered space, sharing its bone-numbing chill.
We recently had a big snow in my neck of the woods.
Everyone was hunkered down. The fridge was full, chicken soup was bubbling on the stove, and my book pile sat patiently on the coffee table. As the snow covered the neighborhood and the plows dumped fresh mounds over our carefully shoveled walk, we took turns peeking outside.
As a kid, snowstorms were pure joy.
“I think we need to be friends.”
Those were the first words out of my mouth when I introduced myself to Rev. Hilda Covington. We’d just finished a county meeting of nonprofit mental health and social service agencies. She was the presenter that month. We almost didn’t meet because Hilda arrived an hour and a half late to a two-hour meeting.
Life has a rhythm. It speeds up and slows down according to mysterious forces.
Your personal rhythm dances with the celestial bodies, seasons of the year, developmental phases, and the pulse of your Soulful evolutionary process. Living in harmony with these rhythms is in many ways hard to understand as it is a complicated and deeply personal process. Your rhythm dances with everyone’s rhythm in the grand Cosmic Dance.
