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    AI...A IAM NOT




    I am creative, weaving and alchemizing my pain through stories. These stories hold the many tales of ancestors' past. The stories of religious persecution and  patriarchal oppression. I hold their words, our words, in high reverence and respect so that their pain will never be forgotten and erased from history. Their deaths hold a reminder for our future generations so that our spiritual beliefs and cultural identity will never be lost or forgotten again

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    The very handprint that has held my own uniqueness, grips to the sacred ceremonies and rituals that keeps me close to my spiritual path and yet again, I feel threatened by the alluring pull of ease and comfort from the masculine culture of AI.


    Will my creativity be lost to the algorithm of irrelevance if I don’t conform?


    As I ride out to nature and contemplate the emotional pain that arises in me, I search for answers. I ask Mother Earth for support , Father Sky for guidance. I hear the winds of the deep canyons whistling a rhythmic tune as the footfalls underneath lull me. I instantly drop into the portal of the timeless past, my body intuitively remembers and I begin to feel my heart expand. I am held, as the fire dances and each face turns to me, I am seen. Sitting with my ancestors I am reminded, In the medicine wheel of my life, I am loved.


    As the winds begin to speak I am brought back through the portal and reminded quickly from my faithful companion, my trusted friend, the importance of balance. Balance on his back and balance in life. 


    When life seems unbalanced, out of harmony I feel my ego standing on the edge of the highest mountain, larger than the tallest tree declaring the many injustices of our patriarchal systems and demanding I be heard as I start to feel the vibrational echoes in my voice, she shouts across the canyon floor, carried by the winds for all to hear. 


    You cannot take my creativity!


    And just as the sun made its final descent of the day into the darkness, I felt him take my ego with him, cradling her between the soft glow of a single ray.  A gentle whisper I heard, lingering behind  as he disappeared over the horizon...Rest sweet one, Grandmother Moon will be here soon. 


    As I contemplate her arrival and the masculine and feminine of them both, my heart is filled with an overwhelming desire to understand, to listen, to hold space for an unknowingness that may or may not be relevant for me but may hold a deeper relevance for the collective. What if my 25 year old self could spend more time in the garden teaching her kids about regenerative soil or my 35 year old self could hold more sacred ceremonies at community outreach centers or maybe even my 50 year old self would have more time to slow down and realize the simplicity of nothing.


    Could AI give us more time in nature?


    Though I don’t know if Artificial Intelligence resonates with me as a 57 year old creative, I do however understand the feminine aspect of being lost in an unbalanced masculine world. 

    When nature is unbalanced she always has a way of re-balancing and coming into alignment for all. 


    Hello Grandmother Moon!

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