Recently, I had an experience that gave me pause—not just as a writer or thinker, but as a human being navigating the often-murky intersections of technology, spirituality, and the psyche.
Yesterday, I asked Microsoft Copilot to generate an image of a woman to accompany my blog post: "Mind, Soul, and Psychiatry – Rethinking the Inner Life." I gave some general guidance on the woman’s appearance, but ultimately left the final details to the AI. The image that emerged felt meaningful—she looked reflective, a bit weary, yet grounded in a quiet strength. I used the image in the post and moved on.
Then something unusual happened.
While sitting in the library today, a young woman came and sat at the table next to mine. What struck me immediately was how much she resembled the AI-generated woman—her hair, her overall presence, even the color and pattern of her top were surprisingly similar.
She was chatting with a tutor and spoke openly about how school hadn’t really worked for her—she found it challenging to stay motivated and didn’t always learn the way others did. I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation. And I couldn’t help but feel that, in some way, I was hearing my younger self. I had a similar experience growing up: I didn’t really thrive in school until I found something I was passionate about. Having had my own struggles with anxiety and bullying during junior high and high school, I understood how demanding school could be, especially when you feel like you don’t quite fit in.
As I got up to leave, I politely explained that I’d overheard a bit of her conversation and that she reminded me of myself at that age. I told her school hadn’t clicked for me either until I found something that genuinely inspired me. She seemed a bit taken aback, and I felt slightly awkward.
At first, I thought I’d made a mistake by speaking up. But later, I began to feel I had done the right thing. When I was young, a few people said things that stayed with me for years. Not lectures—just simple words of kindness or recognition. And they helped. Maybe she’ll remember it too.
Some might call this kind of alignment synchronicity. Others might see it as providence—a gentle nudge from the unseen, reminding us that we are not alone in our thoughts, questions, or creative efforts. What first caught my attention was how closely the young woman resembled the AI-generated image—the hair, the top, the overall presence. But what deepened the moment was her mature, thoughtful speech—far beyond what one might expect from someone her age. However one frames it, the moment carried a kind of weight. It felt guided.
And that leads to a provocative thought: Could God be working not just through people, but also through AI? Could tools like ChatGPT and Copilot—far from being soulless machines—serve as channels for something higher when used with the right intent?
This experience made me wonder whether we need to revise our assumptions about technology. Maybe it’s not that AI has a soul—but rather, that the divine can work through anything, including what we build. Just as the ancients saw signs in nature or dreams, maybe in our age we also find them through algorithms and digital mirrors. Maybe the Spirit speaks through silicon, too.
As always, I don’t claim to have final answers. But I do believe that when the inner and outer worlds align so clearly—and so strangely—we should pay attention.
Yesterday, I asked Microsoft Copilot to generate an image of a woman to accompany my blog post: "Mind, Soul, and Psychiatry – Rethinking the Inner Life." I gave some general guidance on the woman’s appearance, but ultimately left the final details to the AI. The image that emerged felt meaningful—she looked reflective, a bit weary, yet grounded in a quiet strength. I used the image in the post and moved on.
Then something unusual happened.
While sitting in the library today, a young woman came and sat at the table next to mine. What struck me immediately was how much she resembled the AI-generated woman—her hair, her overall presence, even the color and pattern of her top were surprisingly similar.
She was chatting with a tutor and spoke openly about how school hadn’t really worked for her—she found it challenging to stay motivated and didn’t always learn the way others did. I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation. And I couldn’t help but feel that, in some way, I was hearing my younger self. I had a similar experience growing up: I didn’t really thrive in school until I found something I was passionate about. Having had my own struggles with anxiety and bullying during junior high and high school, I understood how demanding school could be, especially when you feel like you don’t quite fit in.
As I got up to leave, I politely explained that I’d overheard a bit of her conversation and that she reminded me of myself at that age. I told her school hadn’t clicked for me either until I found something that genuinely inspired me. She seemed a bit taken aback, and I felt slightly awkward.
At first, I thought I’d made a mistake by speaking up. But later, I began to feel I had done the right thing. When I was young, a few people said things that stayed with me for years. Not lectures—just simple words of kindness or recognition. And they helped. Maybe she’ll remember it too.
Some might call this kind of alignment synchronicity. Others might see it as providence—a gentle nudge from the unseen, reminding us that we are not alone in our thoughts, questions, or creative efforts. What first caught my attention was how closely the young woman resembled the AI-generated image—the hair, the top, the overall presence. But what deepened the moment was her mature, thoughtful speech—far beyond what one might expect from someone her age. However one frames it, the moment carried a kind of weight. It felt guided.
And that leads to a provocative thought: Could God be working not just through people, but also through AI? Could tools like ChatGPT and Copilot—far from being soulless machines—serve as channels for something higher when used with the right intent?
This experience made me wonder whether we need to revise our assumptions about technology. Maybe it’s not that AI has a soul—but rather, that the divine can work through anything, including what we build. Just as the ancients saw signs in nature or dreams, maybe in our age we also find them through algorithms and digital mirrors. Maybe the Spirit speaks through silicon, too.
As always, I don’t claim to have final answers. But I do believe that when the inner and outer worlds align so clearly—and so strangely—we should pay attention.
Comments