I’ve been thinking a lot about AI—not as a spectacle or a threat, but as a tool. A new kind of brush. A strange instrument that reflects whatever hand is holding it. Like any mirror, it doesn’t create meaning on its own—it reveals what’s already there.

For me, AI isn’t about replacing creativity. It’s about expanding the places creativity can reach. It lowers certain barriers while raising new questions. It invites play, experimentation, and rapid iteration—but it still depends entirely on human intention, discernment, and care. Without those, it’s just noise. A thousand echoes without a voice.

What excites me most is not automation, but possibility. The way these tools allow ideas to move more fluidly from imagination into form makes it feel like we are living in the future.

The way AI language models can support accessibility, learning, and creative confidence—especially for people who already carry vision but lack time, resources, or technical fluency in every medium—is mind-blowing.

In the right hands, AI becomes a bridge to our imaginational limits. In the wrong ones, it can become a shortcut—leading to learned dependence and the underdevelopment of critical thinking skills. It also opens the door to exploitation, misuse, and extraction at scale, in a landscape where laws, safeguards, and meaningful enforcement are still struggling to catch up. We still have no clear understanding of the long-term consequences of its use on a personal, societal, or environmental level.

At the same time, as I explore different AI modalities and capabilities, I feel a deep need to slow down and stay in relationship with what we’re making, who we are, and the very human process of creation. Technology doesn’t absolve us of responsibility—it amplifies it. Ethics, authorship, consent, and transparency matter now more than ever. Creation still asks us to be awake and to choose presence over momentum. Presence invites a natural momentum of its own—like destiny unfolding in our lives.

The future is never a clean break from the past. Still, the past hundred years have seen massive, rapid change. AI is the next major frontier we are exploring, and it’s not going anywhere. Pandora’s Box comes to mind.

As we sit in the present moment, looking at events—past, present, and possible—from a bird’s-eye view, it feels like fractals: patterns repeating at new scales. Each page, each project, each tool becomes its own small world. What we build reflects how we think about space, power, collaboration, and meaning. The architecture of our tools eventually becomes the architecture of our lives.

I hold particular concern around AI language models and their growing presence in schools and in the lives of young minds. Not because curiosity should be restrained—but because guidance matters. These tools are powerful mirrors, and developing minds are still learning how to see themselves clearly.

I don’t have finished answers, only inklings: that AI should be woven into education rather than hidden from it; that critical thinking, media literacy, and discernment must be taught alongside it; that tactile, human practices—gardening, building, making, moving, sitting in silence, and living with nature—should become even more central, not less. That meditation, attention, and embodied presence are not luxuries, but foundations.

I’m also mindful of how easily people can form personal relationships with AI—how real those interactions can feel, especially in moments of loneliness or searching. Discernment is essential here. AI can simulate understanding, reflect emotion, and offer language that resonates deeply—but it cannot care for us in the way another human can. It does not carry responsibility, accountability, or love. Remembering this isn’t about diminishing the tool; it’s about protecting the heart.

AI, like anything else, gives back what we bring to it. Curiosity in, curiosity out. Care in, care reflected. Confusion in, confusion multiplied. It is not a teacher, not a guide, not a substitute for lived experience—but it can become a companion to learning when held within a larger, human context—one shaped by presence, discernment, and real connection.

I’m interested in using AI the way I use any creative medium: intentionally, experimentally, and with room for revision. Not to chase trends, but to explore what feels aligned. To make things that feel thoughtful, human, and alive.

This space is part of that exploration. A place to test ideas, share work, and stay curious about what’s emerging—with a mindful, hopeful, and open heart.

No predictions. No hype.

Just attention, play, and careful making.