This next blog explores how we coexist. Not just with others, but also with the rapidly evolving world of AI.
I have to admit, I’ve been feeling conflicted about how much society is starting to rely on AI. I started conjuring up all sorts of unsettling thoughts about how the information we feed into these systems might be misused, unethically or even dangerously. At the same time, I believe that anytime we share something online, whether it’s on ChatGPT or a social media platform, we are in some way consenting to it becoming part of the public domain. Unfortunately, there are people who take advantage of that. It doesn’t make it right, and I do believe there should be safety regulations in place, just like we have rules around board games, sports, road safety, and the law.
This week, I listened to a podcast featuring Simon Sinek on The Diary of a CEO with Steven Bartlett. What really stood out to me was Simon’s point that if we become too reliant on AI, we risk losing essential human skills. The ability to think creatively, formulate, transform, structure our ideas, and bringing them to life could slowly disappear.
The podcast reminded me of the time I taught myself how to knit and crochet. My stepdad was impressed, but he also seemed to lament the fact that skills once passed down through generations are beginning to fade. “It’s becoming a lost art,” he said. And he’s right. If we lose those hands-on, generational skills, what happens when the world is thrown into crisis? Many of us wouldn’t know how to be self-sufficient. The pandemic demonstrated that, and I observed so many who acted irrationally out of fear. Heck, I’ll admit there were times I found myself acting and thinking irrationally purely because I was worried about survival and food shortages. Simon made a great analogy. AI is like giving everyone a boat, but when a storm comes, no one will know how to steer the ship.
The interviewer Steven Bartlett mentioned how people are starting to use AI to write emails that mimic their tone, but something still feels off. The messages lack authenticity. As a result, readers begin to lose interest because it doesn’t sound like the person they know. If you are interested in listening for yourself, I have linked details to the podcast below.
I’ve caught myself feeling the same way when scrolling through social media, and I find myself getting bored of reading the same things. Perhaps it’s also the algorithm only showing mostly my interests, so it becomes the same thing over and over. I have noticed most posts are perfectly polished but at times feel lifeless and lack our humanness. That’s part of what pushed me to finally start this blog. I wanted a space to make sense of the ideas in my mind and the feelings in my heart. A place separate from the distractions of endless scrolling on social media, an opportunity to unpack the world, both within and without.
I’ll admit, I use ChatGPT for minor edits and polishing, just like how an author would use an editor. But I know the work is entirely my own because I’ve painstakingly written, rewritten, read, reread, and carefully curated the words to express my thoughts and feelings.
I’ve always tried to maintain integrity and give credit where it’s due. In a world where so much is easily accessible, it’s tempting to use someone else’s work or ideas without properly acknowledging them, but that’s not who I am.
When I wrote my last blog, I fell in love with a photograph by Lauren Fowler who captured what I was trying to express in my blog – ‘Aha moments on an Autumn drive’. I could have easily used the photo without asking, but my heart said, reach out, message the photographer. Honestly, I didn’t expect a reply. I already had my plan B, I was going to take a photo from the same street where my daughter asked the question about why some of the leaves are brown, red, and orange. But I know I lack photography skills and this particular photo beautifully captures the essence of all the feelings I felt in that moment.
What I’ve come to realise from reaching out and asking to use her photo is that I’ve placed people I admire, artists, photographers, musicians, entrepreneurs, all on such a pedestal. It is because they follow their hearts, even when their choices might seem illogical to others. And that inspires me deeply.
By putting someone on a pedestal, I had assumed there was no way someone of that caliber would ever reply to me. But wow, was I pleasantly surprised. Her message of support, and her permission to use her stunning photo, meant so much to me.
What truly stood out were her words of encouragement, “I’m very excited for you and so happy you’re pushing through the fear and doubt, that’s the hardest part.” Those words are now imprinted on my heart.
Why share any of this online? To leave a legacy for my children and their children, in the hopes that maybe one day my words, my own lessons will echo across time and space, that someday they’ll read some of what I share and it might support them if they are ever at a crossroads in life. To remind them not to sever the connection between their head and heart. Why not just write it in a journal? I did that, I still do that, I do that for me. Because I find structuring and expressing my thoughts and feelings into written words incredibly healing and grounding. Why blogging? Because I decided, why limit what I have to share to me and mine? In sharing this blog, I hope it might support others too in their journey home to their own heart. Even if it is just one word, one sentence, or one blog post you read, maybe it might spark something within you, a small seed that ignites something that’s been uniquely inside of you this whole time.
Other things that help me feel grounded, especially when my mind spirals into doomsday thinking, are learning every day, reading, writing, admiring art and music, and learning hands-on skills. Gardening, composting, growing seedlings from seeds, and learning from other people’s life stories, the seeds of wisdom they plant in everyday conversations. These things give me peace and a sense of purpose.
I remember a humbling moment when we first moved to a more rural property that already had fruit trees on the land. I proudly brought what I thought were limes to work; it smelled citrusy and was green. So it had to be limes, right? Only to be told quickly but kindly by work colleagues that they were unripened oranges. I laughed it off, and now I know. I also learned if a fruit comes off the tree easily with a gentle twist, it’s likely ripe.
I’ve also taught myself how to weave baskets using pine needles from our property. It became a healing process, one that made me feel deeply connected to my ancestors. My Lola, which means grandmother in Tagalog from the Philippines, weaves Banigs, traditional Filipino mats typically made from dried pandan or palm leaves. I’ve learned to sew and even made reusable nappies for my babies. And they looked great, if I say so myself. I recycled one of my husband’s old sports jerseys with absorbable inserts and placed the sports number on their little tushies. But the nappies I created didn’t quite match up to the absorbency of disposable ones. Still, with each new attempt, I learned how to improve them. That’s what I love about learning, creating, and actually doing. Each time, you get better.
Simon said it best. It’s in our mistakes and missteps that we find ourselves, our strengths and weaknesses, our humanity and our uniqueness. AI can polish things perfectly, but it can’t replicate the beauty that lives in our imperfections or the wisdom that comes from everyday trial and error.
Some other things on my list of projects are learning how to play a handpan drum, learning how to either German schmear or whitewash our brick homestead, and learning how to care for chickens so we can start collecting our own eggs. Let’s see what I learn from that. Hopefully, I don’t mistake wild bird eggs for the real thing. We’ve got all sorts of wildlife around here: Kookaburra, variety of birds, lizards, echidnas, wallabies, kangaroos, and yes, snakes!
Just like we learn to coexist with wildlife, with nature, and with others, we now have to learn how to coexist with AI. This week, while chatting with another mum from my son’s school, we talked about how tricky it is for school-age children to navigate social dynamics, how they’re still learning what it means to belong and to coexist with their peers. And sometimes, in the process, they might do things they’re not proud of, just to fit in and be cool.
I’ve been there too. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, especially when I was younger. Things I did just to be accepted or to feel like I belonged. In doing so, I lost parts of myself by not listening to what I knew in my heart to be right. “It’s not that my way is the right way, it’s just another way,” – Conversations with God by Neale Donald Walsch. But I’ve learned now not to be ashamed of those moments. I’ve learned to be thankful for the lessons they taught me. Life gives us the chance to reflect, grow, and reinvent ourselves. With more experience and a little more self-trust, I’ve slowly found my way back to what has always been in my heart. Only now, I have a deeper appreciation for it.
Growth often comes through contrast. We learn who we are by experiencing who we are not. That’s part of life. That’s part of the human experience.
What I’ve noticed, especially in parenting, is that when I approach my kids with humility, when I share my personal stories from my own past, especially something I’m not the most proud of, they listen more. They soften. They become more open. It creates connection. It opens a door for understanding instead of closing it with lecturing or scolding.
For example, I once told my children that when I was growing up, we couldn’t afford many toys. The few I did have, I held very close. I wasn’t big on sharing. And through that, I learned partly through observation, partly through experience, that not many people want to play with someone who isn’t open. I kept things to myself, not just toys but also my feelings, my mistakes, and my life lessons.
I think my kids understood what I was trying to say, maybe a little too well, except they have a way of keeping things so simple. Now, whenever one of them is correcting the other about sharing, they’ll refer to that conversation we had and say, “You should share. You don’t want to end up like Mum and have no friends.” What they’re really doing is recalling our deeper talk about sharing and connection. But I’ll admit sometimes it’s a bit embarrassing when they say it out loud in public for others to only hear, “You’ll end up with no friends like Mum.” I then feel like I have to quickly jump in to defend my honour and say, “I have friends now, okay? Because guess what? I did learn to share!” I learned how to coexist.
But instead of defending my honour or protecting my ego, I choose to stay silent. I remind myself, just keep showing them through your actions, your way of being, and by coexisting. Actually, I’m still learning how to coexist in this rapidly changing world, especially with the rise of AI. I’m exploring how to use it as a tool, particularly for editing, while staying grounded in my own truth and creativity.
This piece is written from the heart and is my own. It reflects my own inner voice, stories, and grounded insights. AI supported with minor editing and polishing.
I really admired this photo when I was creating this blog post. Banig weaving is art in of itself. This image is by Bhen Alan who has filipino heritage like me. He is a multidisciplinary artist, dancer and educator who grew up weaving and learning traditional folk dance. When I found this piece I quickly grew to admire his work. If you are interested in checking him out – https://www.bhenalan.com/
https://www.instagram.com/bhen_alan?igsh=dmUxN25paWtpeWpy
Home to Heart 
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