A WRITER'S A.I.
Is any intelligence truly artificial?
I will not pretend to personally understand this whole new world of artificial intelligence. The few examples of AI that I knew were AI seemed intelligent to me, even if they were deemed artificial. I think you must be smart to engineer all of that. It is baffling to me.
I guess that is a demonstration of my level of intelligence.
A few moments ago, when I clicked to bring up Word to author a blog post, the program offered me the opportunity to have AI write something for me.
What?
It gave me a few examples of things it could write about. A fishing expedition. A child's party. A plumbing how-to.
By the time I sorted my way through the AI suggestions and my overall surprise at the new programming, I forgot what I had intended to write about.
So here goes.
A Writer's AI.
I guess there would be applications for which the ease and convenience of AI would be appealing. If someone were stressed by an overload of work projects, having something that could produce something for you might well be beneficial. I am not sure how that would apply to a fishing exhibition or a child's party. But it is not difficult to comprehend how a program that can write reports or documents for you might be appealing.
I am intelligent to know that I am not the best writer in the world, nor is it my goal to become that. I am not an expert at grammar, and without spell check, I am in deep trouble.
I write because I love to write.
I love to write about what I love most. And what I love most is Love Itself.
And there is nothing artificial about love.
Even from this novice's perspective, I do not believe that AI can capture into words the depth of love I feel when I tap into the Infinite Intelligence within my heart. Nothing Infinite is artificial. Infinity is the ultimate intelligence. And this infinite intelligence is also infinitely loving. It is loving because it is Love. It does not so much love. It IS love.
It is this Love that prompts me to want to create. To write. To lecture. To draw. To sing. Infinite intelligent love moves within my heart and seeks to be known via my personal creative expression. It isn't artificial. It is organic. It is authentic. It is intrinsic.
I do not seek or want shortcuts through my creative expression.
And so, I do not love fishing, so I do not engage in a program to blog about fishing. I do not have children. I could care less about plumbing.
I use whatever limited yet authentic intelligence I have been granted to write about what I actually love.
Love.
I suspect there will be other writers who will agree with me. I do not want a shortcut through a process that brings me joy and fulfillment to be engaged in. There is nothing artificial about my creative expression. I do not put it out there for accolades or approval. I put it out there only for the sake of sharing my love. If it touches one heart, then I am grateful.
I will leave AI writing to someone else. Someone who wants to rapidly and easily produce a product. That is not my goal.
I will continue to find AI pretty darn intelligent. I may find other applications for it that I find advantageous. This will not be one of them.
I freely admit that AI might produce a more polished product that I am capable of. I also know that it will not be a reflection of my love or my need to share that love. And I know in my heart of hearts that my love is indeed my greatest intelligence.
This is this writer's AI. And I assure you, I wrote it myself.


