Create, Don’t Just Consume

In keeping with my recent resolve to create something–to create anything, even if it seems like rubbish–I’m going to exercise the discipline needed to write for half an hour this morning before I consume anything online.

Running has featured heavily for me in the past several weeks. Sometimes I run with two other guys, Rudy and Carl. They both run faster than me, but they never make an issue of it. In fact, I make more of an issue of it than they do. We’ll be running and I’ll say, “I’m sorry that I’m creating a bottleneck.” Usually they don’t seem to know what to do with comments like that. We just run in silence for about one kilometer after I say that.

Carl has been teaching me about pacing. As a relative newcomer to running, I tend to hit my stride and then speed up. But knowing when to hold back is fundamental to good running. For several years now I’ve wanted to run the half marathon in under 2 hours. The three of us have signed up to run the Viking Marathon (this Sunday!) and the other day we decided to run a half marathon in our training. Lo and behold, we did it in 1:55! At around 15k I started surging ahead, but Carl reined me back in. It was good that he did, because I’m almost certain we wouldn’t have come in under 2 hours if he hadn’t. Then I would have had to make my bottleneck comment and it would have all gotten pretty awkward again.

Running captures my imagination for several reasons, but one that I’ve been thinking about recently is that it’s distinctly human. AI can’t really touch it. I’m not against AI and Chat GPT per se; I just happen to agree with the computer scientist and artist (intriguing combination) Jaron Lanier when he says that any technology that doesn’t serve humans is a contradiction in terms, a technology that should be abolished.

Lanier also believes that AI companies should pay the individuals they harvest information from. Because if you think about it, no matter how much AI and Large Language Models bedazzle us, they never do more than synthesize what humans have worked hard to produce. So why shouldn’t the humans be compensated for their efforts? For example, Lanier suggested that if AI “creates” something and incorporates a picture of your shoes in its creation, say from a picture you posted on your Facebook account, then you should get a few pennies for even that. He calls it data dignity or data as labour. I think his instincts are right. Whenever I use Chat GPT now, I’ve started asking it to go and remunerate the source where they got their information from. Heck, it might even draw from this blog post one day. Chat GPT, I ask you: will you be man enough to pay me if you scour my blog for data?

Also, Chat GPT is an asinine name. We should all start calling it information collector.

I say with Cat Stevens, hey, baby, baby, it’s a wild world. But as long as we can create, we are still human. Chat GPT/Information Collector can never create, it can only curate and maybe synthesize. The form of creative expression we as humans pursue is secondary; that we regularly do it is what’s important. Our technology has to serve our creativity but if we cease creating, our world will implode. And that won’t only be the fault of our technology, it will also be our fault for abandoning our task to be divine image bearers and create.

You Can’t Force Creativity But You Can Show up for It

Yesterday on my afternoon run I was listening to Krista Tippett interview Rick Rubin who is a musician and a self-identified creative. Imagine going around introducing yourself as a creative. So what do you do? I’m a creative. It certainly beats all the bullshit jobs you hear about these days, like: “I synthesize data analysis to foster greater engagement among key stakeholders.” Really? And that’s how you plan to spend your one wild and precious life?

Anyway, Rick Rubin likens the creative process to fishing. You can never guarantee that you are going to catch fish, no matter how often you go fishing, but it is equally true that you will never catch fish if you don’t go fishing. And you should never think of your failure to catch fish as actual failures, but rather as eliminating a dead-end. If you fail 10 times, you have eliminated 10 dead-ends, assuming of course, and this is crucial, that you fail in a different ways.

It ties in with the documentary I watched about Stockton Rush, the guy who was hellbent to plunge a carbon-fibre submarine almost 4 kilometres into the abyss–with a crew of 5–to view the moldering wreck that is the Titanic. He kept testing the submarine and I think he built several iterations of it, but he never fundamentally changed his approach. They say he was averse to any form of criticism. Unfortunately, his creation imploded several hundred metres before they reached the Titanic. The loss of life was catastrophic but at least it was instantaneous.

So the trick is, whether you’re building submarines or learning to write, to 1) to find new ways to fail and 2) keep showing up to fish. I remember that I had a pretty good run a few years of doing “morning pages,” a method Julia Cameron came up with and wrote about in her book called The Artist’s Way. I must pick that book up again, actually. I think I could re-incorporate it into my routine spiritual practices.

Recently, I have discovered great freedom and joy in playing around with my spiritual practices. For so long, I had this humourless view of spiritual practices, that they have to look a certain way. I still do feel that there should be a daily reading of one’s sacred texts (in my case the Bible, usually one of the Psalms and sometimes one other passage), and some form of prayer. But it occurred to me that we have so much freedom in how we carry that out. For instance, I find it’s better to have short prayers but to have them more frequently, perhaps 3 or 5 times a day.

The constant stimulation available in the Digital Age has been a barrier for my creative process. We now have vast, perhaps unprecedented access to creative works, and from an unprecedented number of creators, or at least creators who are sharing their work. I suppose humans have always created, it’s just that a larger number are making it public. Now there’s so much creative work to take in that I seldom stop to try to put something out.

It’s interesting to think about the creative process as the domain of the right brain. I’m working my way through Iain McGilchrist’s book on that subject called The Master and His Emissary. Most of the advances we’re seeing in AI are in the domain of the left brain, the subservient emissary. One thing AI can’t touch is humans who create, because we’re in right brain mode. No matter how stunning AI is, it’s doing mostly or entirely left-brain tasks.

Left-brain activity can impress us, but only the more creative, right-brain activity can transform us and inspire worship. Let’s not neglect it.