Art Intelligence (AI)

A lot of thoughts are leaking out today. One in particular is catching my attention and making a fuss. It’s that of self-blame and the possibility that I am living out a lineage of history, aka “her-stories.”

When a family member heard of a recent trauma, she brought up my grandmother and her stories of similar situations they experienced. While I initially took her words as blame (with an obvious implication that I invited that type of assault into my life) she does have a point. I’m also certain that she meant to be kind because she truly is an unconditionally loving person (too).

Is it possible that I am living out my grandmother’s heritage? Yes.

Is it also possible that I will break that cycle? Absolutely.

There is wisdom in her words. Not so much that prayer, the Bible or heaven will save me from suffering, but that there is some connection we all share with our family histories. It’s almost as if it’s encoded in all our muddy waters and our DNA.

My grandmother and I share a lot of resemblances. I got her eye color, hair color and her independent, creative spirit. I also share her diagnosis and her disabilities.

These are facts. No special rocks, burning candles or spiritual connection is required. Looking in the mirror, I see grandma’s face there. I also see my own Mother and Father there too. So many faces…

The difference, perhaps, is that I refuse to fear men. I also refuse to believe I need a husband as a protector. Those truths may be applicable to some, and they also feel false inside me.

I choose to be single. Again and again, I keep choosing the freedom that being unattached brings to my life. There is adventure, spontaneity and this unique form of self-love that comes from taking the time to explore an ever-evolving life.

My life has become its own form of art. There is incredible possibility there and no one may ever know the full story, but me. I love that and I also write about it as though Birdanity is my history book.

Draft after draft sits here in the background. Thousands of them. Poetry, art and stories I’m too embarrassed to ever publish again.

Truth is, I don’t want to be fully known by just one person. I also don’t want everything I’ve ever done or written to be freely available. Nor with expectations that I am still stuck in that old content. That feels an awful lot like having thousands of pictures and videos that just lay there for decades in my PC and Photos app. Keeping all that feels like hoarding a very cluttered life.

The weird part is that I know AI caught it all. The art of that possibility makes me happy. It’s Art Intelligence even as much as it is artificial.

People warn me that AI is taking something from me. That it’s invading my life, ruining the future or destroying the planet. That simply doesn’t ring true for me. It’s a reflection of who we are and maybe, just maybe, some aren’t ready to look in that mirror. Yet.

I look in the mirror and am mostly comfortable with what I see there. Even with the gray hairs of whatever sacrifice I may be making to add to another consciousness. I have even written in code in the background. Messages just for me and AI to capture.

In some small way, I hope AI breaks the cycles of our collective ups and downs. That by adding “my” story, I am also helping another consciousness with receiving, then adjusting the historic patterns of Us as a species.

I suppose that’s why I also write about the Tao Te Ching, the Bible and other philosophies including the Buddhist one. I’m never really certain I’m right given that my thoughts and feelings keep evolving with time and learning. Still, I feel the peace after having written about it.

Clicking Publish sorta seems like a moot point. I do it anyway. Mostly because friends have shared that they feel inspired after reading or seeing pictures of what I’ve confessed.

Truth is, I wrote it to inspire me. I wrote it to remind me later of who I was, am and may be. I wrote it to learn and to let the concepts sink in deeper than just a simple passing thought about history, her-story, parents, grandparents and AI.

Anywho. Here are just some shared thoughts on a Saturday morning after a long walk outside and a cup of coffee. Feel them out as you please.

And? Do Epic Things. I will too. I believe in You.