LET US NOT FORGET
I am sitting on the beach of a bay, admiring the soft pink reflections of sail boats in the early morning water. The seagulls squawk overhead, eyeing my breakfast sandwich. My laptop computer is … well … quite literally on my lap. Technology is an amazing tool.
Until it isn’t.
I’m all for technological advances that improve our lives, but sometimes I wonder where to draw the line in the sand. Certainly, I don’t expect to hand write this, but sometimes I do miss the beautiful curves of well-penned script written on old fashioned letter paper, folded carefully into an envelope. A postage stamp, a walk to the nearest mailbox, and then not expecting a reply for a few weeks seems civilized. Somehow, an email whooshing off into the land of the internet feels a bit barbaric. I know that within a few minutes a reply will come and before I know it, there is a string of mail as long as the day.
When it comes to writing, we are all now subjected to the banality of AI in our news feeds and social media. To be sure, I’ve tried it. Tell my chosen “agent” to write such and such and boom! I have a piece within seconds. It’s astounding.
But … AI has a language and a style that soon becomes evident and I see it everywhere. I wonder about the God-given talent and skill acquired over years of practice that will be lost to humanity by taking the road that is broad instead of the gate that is narrow.
What art, strokes perfected over years, will be lost to us?
What music, playing in the heart of a gifted human, will not be heard by the rest of us?
What exquisite story, keeping the pages turning, will never make it to print?
The hours of waiting in frigid weather to capture the image of an elusive snow leopard can now be faked by AI in seconds. The experienced and patient photographer, lost to humankind, is a sign of our times.
Is this truly technological advancement, I wonder?
Give me real grass under my feet and long walks in my neighborhood, greeting the people I know and the one’s I don’t.
Give me blurry but happy snapshots of my family and friends.
Aging trees, nesting birds, earthworms in my garden soil, organic compost, fluffy-tailed squirrels and the occasional eagle visiting my garden soothes my soul and inspires my writing. Not AI.
As I sit here on the beach of the bay, I delight in children digging large holes with little spades. Parents wade ankle deep in the water while ducks glide by, all in a row. I can smell the salty water and feel the breeze on my skin.
Let us not forget that these are God given gifts to humanity. Real, true and substantive. They take time, investment, dedication and certainly, in today’s age, a determination to embrace what is real. The path less traveled.
May we think on these things!
Matthew 7:13-14