A little story

Hello beloved reader, welcome new subscribers, and Happy Valentine’s day!

Thank you for inviting my writing into your inbox, and if you’re reading this on the Substack website, thank you for being here. I deeply appreciate every reader who engages with my writing—it’s a privilege I don’t take for granted.

Lately I’ve been thinking about AI as a tool for writers. It’s a great tool, but of course it will never embody the heart or soul of a sentient being. (And as an aside, when I think of AI, I can’t help but smile as I think of the movie, The Terminator.)

You may have heard this quote before about the human mind: it’s a wonderful servant, but a terrible master. Perhaps the same can be said of AI.

This post from author K.M. Weiland on Exploring the Impact of AI on Fiction Writing, provides a great overview of the issues to consider. One aspect I find particularly important to be aware of, is the environmental impact of AI. Weiland writes:

One of my greatest concerns about AI—which is spoken about regrettably seldom—is its tremendous resource consumption. The energy and computational costs of AI systems, especially during training, is staggering.

She provides specific examples of the significant amount of water used to cool the machines needed to generate AI, as well as the high levels of energy consumption and carbon emissions involved.

I believe awareness is key in all things: it empowers us to make informed choices.

At the same time, even when intending to do no harm, actions can still have an unintended negative impact. For example, when I fly home to visit family in Australia, I’m aware of the environmental consequences of air travel. And yet I still make the choice to go. Perhaps this kind of internal tension about wrestling with choices is an inevitable part of wanting to show up with integrity? Perhaps the important consideration is more about the scale of the impact? Or perhaps the real issue is whether an action or choice is driven by greed, hatred, or delusion?

I don’t have all the answers, but I do know that awareness matters. The importance of being aware of the issues, and getting to make informed choices. I am but one drop in the ocean, and a single drop can still create ripples. So I choose to stand in my sovereignty, and to show up with loving kindness and compassion.

And I love this from

Victoria Hart

about sovereignty:

Many speak of sovereignty, but few truly embody it. Sovereignty is not about rejecting control—it's about becoming unshakable in who you are. This requires inner alchemy: dissolving attachments, releasing programmed fears, and standing in your divine knowing.

What does it take to become the kind of being that cannot be manipulated? There is a path. And it is one of radical self-ownership.

I believe my own suffering because of what’s going on in the external world right now, does not help anything. My suffering does not ease the world’s suffering. But how I can serve, is by standing in my sovereignty and taking action where appropriate.

But I digress.

In addition to thinking about the ‘right’ way to use AI as a tool for writing, I’ve also been thinking about stories. I adore this quote from Brian Doyle’s The Wet Engine: Exploring the Mad Wild Miracle of the Heart:

Look, I don’t know much, but I know these things uncontrovertibly and inarguably:
One: stories matter waaaaay more than we know.
Two: all stories are, in some form, prayers.
Three: love is the story and the prayer that matters the most.
So: here are some stories and prayers, and they are all about love, and I hope they matter to you too.

I’ll be forever grateful to one of my MFA writing advisors for introducing me to Brian Doyle’s work. Even though The Wet Engine is a slim 28 pages, it embodies beautifully crafted prose and profound wisdom.

It also inspired in me this realization:

When you think about it, all of the world’s faith traditions are simply stories. Powerful narratives that shape our understanding of existence.

Which is why I love it so much when writers challenge the dominant religion’s narratives, as

Danielle Coffyn

does in her gorgeous poem, If Adam Picked the Apple. She brings the Divine Feminine perspective to the story of Adam and Eve. (You can read her poem in my post, A New Era?)

In addition to thinking deep thoughts😁 I love to play, which for me includes experimenting. Curious about AI’s potential for storytelling, I typed this into ChatGPT:

Tell me a story about what is the Rising of the Divine Feminine.

And I got this:

Once upon a time, in a world teetering on the edge of destruction, a great forgetting had taken place. The people had lost their connection to the Earth, to the cycles of the moon, to the wisdom that once flowed freely between the human heart and the natural world. The land was scarred by greed, the rivers poisoned by industry, and the skies choked with smoke. The Sacred Masculine, in its purest form of protection and provision, had long ago been twisted into domination and control. The balance was lost, and the world suffered.

But deep beneath the surface, in the roots of the ancient trees, in the whispers of the wind, and in the dreams of those who still listened, something was stirring. A force long suppressed but never extinguished was rising—the Divine Feminine.

She did not rise in conquest. She did not seek to overthrow, but to restore. She awakened in the hearts of those who had forgotten her: in the mother who suddenly knew, without explanation, that her children needed to return to the forest; in the artist who felt compelled to paint visions of a world in harmony; in the scientist who, against all odds, discovered a way to heal the poisoned soil. She awakened in the circles of women who gathered beneath the full moon, in the men who chose to lay down their weapons and listen, in the voices of children who spoke truths too profound to be dismissed.

The Rising of the Divine Feminine was not a single moment but a wave, a remembering, a shift in consciousness. It was the return of intuition, of collaboration, of reverence for the Earth and all her creatures. It was the dismantling of systems built on fear and the quiet, persistent growth of something new—something ancient, yet fresh.

And as the Divine Feminine rose, the Sacred Masculine stirred as well, awakening from its long distortion. No longer a force of oppression, it remembered its true purpose—to stand in strength, not to conquer, but to protect. The two, once seen as opposites, wove together in harmony, each honoring the other.

And so, the world began to heal—not through war, not through force, but through love, through the quiet power of the unseen, through the rising of the Divine Feminine in every soul willing to embrace her call.

Not bad, right? I was impressed. Although I did make a few tweaks.

Experimenting with AI and storytelling led me to more questions:

How do the stories we tell shape us?

Will we choose to tell stories that cultivate a growth mindset, or will we perpetuate the narratives based in fear and damnation?

Stories have power. They shape our understanding, guide our choices, and influence the future.

Will we choose to create stories of love, healing, harmonic balance, and collaboration—or continue repeating stories rooted in fear?

The choice is ours.

p.s. Jamie—my darling partner-in-life for 35+ years—and I had an early Valentine’s dinner at our favorite Vietnamese restaurant in Peterborough, NH as snow was forecast for the next couple of days. When we got home, he parked the Prius next to the barn at the top of the hill behind our cabin and walked down and took this photo. I love it and wanted to share😍 when I shared it with one of my sisters, she texted back that we live in a gingerbread house😁 but I like to think of it more as a magical cabin in the woods🥰