Is ChatGPT still making headlines? Well, I’m gonna talk about it anyway.
In case you live most of your life blissfully outside of the frenetic internet world, here’s what happened. Basically, someone taught a computer algorithm how to talk.
I’m certainly no AI expert, but I’m pretty sure that’s the gist of the ChatGPT mania. From what I understand, ChatGPT is a long language AI model, which means that it’s sort of like the iPhone’s predictive text feature, except it has a much, much larger data set than just your text conversations with your mom. ChatGPT doesn’t really know anything, but it does know what words are more likely to come one after another. Let me put it another way. For years, the guys and girls over at OpenAI have basically been feeding ChatGPT boatloads of data from things that humans wrote, like research papers, news articles, text messages, poetry, novels, you name it. And then ChatGPT put on its reading glasses and studied how humans communicate. Now, it basically knows how to talk just like a human.
I’ll admit I’ve used ChatGPT quite a bit. In fact, everything you just read was written entirely by ChatGPT…just kidding. Or am I?
But seriously, I have used it, and not only does it write pretty decently, but it’s also good at shit… pardon my French but I am using the word shit intentionally. ChatGPT is good at doing the shit you don’t want to do. For example, I’ve asked it to read and summarize long news articles, help me write a resumé, and create an eight-week workout plan tailored specifically toward my climbing goals.
I think it’s an amazing tool. And, ChatGPT is just the tip of the iceberg. There are dozens of AI tools that are quite impressive, like DALL-E or Midjourney, that can create complex images in dozens of different styles in just minutes. DALL-E, for example, can illustrate a picture of a bowl of soup that looks like a monster, knitted out of wool… or make you a digital rendering of a stern-looking owl dressed as a librarian. I would show you what these look like if I didn’t have to pay for them. Send me $15 on Venmo and I’ll share them in next week’s article.
Nonetheless, I still think a lot of these AI tools are only good at shit. Sure, some of them can create “art” but for the most part, they’re good at doing the annoying shit humans don’t want to do. Don’t get me wrong, ChatGPT and these other AI tools are insane technological feats. And while I don’t think we’re quite at the point where AI is going to start displacing humans in the workforce–at least that’s what I’ve been reading so far– we might be heading in that direction pretty soon. Let’s face it, the number of things that only humans can do is shrinking by the day.
So if you’re worried you’re going to get swallowed up in the AI revolution and replaced by a robot, fear not, I have the key to your immunity.
Here it is. Ready?
Just be an artist.
Okay, hear me out. I don’t mean that literally. You can put down your paintbrush or your guitar. You don’t need to actually take up painting or music or poetry. Let me explain what I mean…
Earlier this year, I had a conversation with AI scientist, Inma Martinez. In my day job, I’m a news producer. So when ChatGPT started blowing people’s minds in January, I dug into it a little bit, which is why I know that stuff I said earlier about ChatGPT being a long language model (LLM) algorithm. Other than that, I can’t claim to be much of a tech-savant. Nonetheless, I was fascinated by Inma’s take on AI’s creative abilities.
I asked her if she thought AI would replace human creativity.
She responded by comparing AI “art” to food cooked in a Thermomix. If you don’t know what that is, it’s basically a small R2D2-looking robot that you can throw ingredients into and it will cook you a meal. Inma said you can throw the ingredients into the Thermomix and it will give you a meal, and it might taste good, but it will never, ever compare to food cooked by a chef in a good restaurant.
What I think she’s getting at is that there is something intangible about human creation that cannot be replicated by a machine. Why? Because it cannot even be quantified, described, understood, or even replicated by other humans. Art is the language of the soul. And while we might fancy ourselves quite advanced as a species, we are yet to truly understand the language of the soul–much less teach it to a robot.
Think about what artists do best. They find new ways to express their most authentic selves–this language of their soul. In other words, they do what only they can do.
This week I’ve been reading Dave Grohl’s memoir, The Storyteller. Grohl is the lead singer and guitarist of the Foo Fighters. In one chapter, he writes about John Bonham, the drummer for Led Zeppelin–you know, one of the greatest rock bands of all time–and what made Bonham such an incredible musician. Grohl says:
Every musician plays differently, we know this, but there must be something intangible that differentiates the music written on a chart from what is created by one drummer to the next. Is it the way that each mind interprets a pattern? The internal clock that is defined by one’s physical and emotional construct? The way they see the space between the notes? I have watched many producers try to explain and manufacture “feel” but I am convinced that over-intellectualizing it is futile. It is something divine that only the universe can create, like a heartbeat or a star. A solitary design within every musician that is only their own. I liken “feel” to the cadence of poetry, sometimes comforting, other times unsettling, but always a gift from one soul to another. A romance between the giver and receiver which serves as a punctuation to one’s truth.
Maybe one day someone will create a robot that can play Led Zeppelin songs on the drums (if they haven’t already) but I guarantee it will not feel or sound like Bonham. You could write thousands of pages explaining Bonham’s, Mozart’s, Hemingway’s, or Van Gogh’s “feel”. But don’t waste your time. Their so-called “feel” is their own intangible, wonderful, indescribable language of the soul that only they can speak. It’s their truth. Their authenticity. Their spirit. Call it what you want.
I’m not saying you need to go out and become the next John Bonham, or the next world-renown artist. What I mean to say is, we all have our own one-of-one gift that only we can give the world. And, you don’t just have to be an artist in the traditional sense of the word to give it. You do, however, need to be an artist in that you find your authentic self and lay your soul bare.
Why were Grohl, Bonham, and all the artists I listed above so extraordinary? Probably because they were extremely good at being their authentic selves as often as possible. I can’t explain it other than to say that they were the deepest form of human they could be.
This type of intense humanity is not only reserved for these once-in-a-blue-moon artists. We can all be artists in everything we do. We can all be deeply human, and deeply true to ourselves. Whether your medium is the canvas, the guitar, the basketball court or your relationships with others, the closer you align yourself with your indispensable, one-of-a-kind essence the more valuable you become. No matter what endeavor or industry you dedicate yourself to–whether art or business–there is something you can give to the world that only you can give.
I can’t say I have all the answers about how to find that special gift that only you can give. I’m only starting to figure it out for myself. But, I do know that it is a gradual process.
Let’s be honest, we are probably never going to have an epiphany or aha moment where we suddenly discover some special talent, some divine calling. Instead, if we live as honestly and authentically as possible in every moment and in every relationship we will slowly start to uncover our unique essence–that trait or skill which can never be replaced by artificial intelligence. When we repeatedly reach deeply into the divine and ask for guidance with sincerity, the divine reaches back to point us toward the best version of ourselves.
Last week, I wrote about grief. The week before that, I wrote about crying on airplanes. And while these articles didn’t get millions of views or comments, I did get a handful of text messages from friends and family members telling me that they were truly moved by what I was writing about or that they too had cried on an airplane. I took these beautiful conversations I had with people that came from being vulnerable and honest in my writing, as a sign that I am on the right path.
It wasn’t just the words on the screen that resonated with people–ChatGPT could write those. It was the intangible, the sincerity between the words, the unique “feel” of the writing that struck a chord with people–and only I could create that, and not because I’m some incredible writer (I’m definitely not) but only because I was writing with complete honesty and expressing my humanity.
Now, more than ever, it is vital that we cultivate that which makes us human–that we find our “feel” in everything that we do. In the face of this impending AI tidal wave, we can either let ourselves get washed away or we can sink deeply into ourselves and become defiantly more human than ever before.
And here I was being afraid of ChatGPT. Thanks for that.