I have a dream; that one day, people in this country, from the top down, will have manners and decorum once more. I don’t know what has happened, and I never expected to see it in my lifetime, but people have become uncivilized. When I see how people who have higher positions in our government talk to one another, the type of crass language, cursing, and simply, the kind of less than civilized behavior they display, I have to ask myself what happened to an older generation that once viewed decorum and manners as something of value, moral value, the same generation that equated such public display of inappropriate and vulgar behavior to a lack of intelligence. We behave as cavemen who cannot control a single emotion, whose brains are still in development, from an evolutionary point of view.
My goodness, what has happened to us? Our demeanor is not better than that of medieval characters who believed in fallacies, myths, and superstition, and execute faulty reasoning. It is 2026, and with all the accessible knowledge and technology we have, it seems as if we are de-evolving, going back to a primal state; pretty soon, we will be pounding our chest and howling.
“Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.” (Proverbs 16:18 ESV)
The other day, I had a conversation with my sister that made me think about time, mortality, and my perception of these. She watched a video in which a former supermodel now in her sixties, said that if she were to live until her eighties, she will have about 20 more summers to enjoy. Being about her age, the realization that 20 summers is not too many hit me. Imagine writing these numbers down and crossing each one as time goes by and realizing that 20 is such a finite number and thus, the fragility and brevity of one’s existence. Overwhelming on paper for sure.
Time is aloof. It is long, it is short, it is real, but also measured by our kind, by our humanity. It is freely given; it is used and misused. It is ignored when we think we have much of it but wanted when it seems scarce or limited. It is a blessing but a curse for many. Perception defines it, for every person differently; we give it meaning. It is constant but forgettable. It is natural but also, supernatural and mystifying.
Summers come and go. I never thought about them as a finite number. When I think of what I did last summer, much of it eludes me. Did I enjoy it? Did it just go by as any other season? For some reason, when you start numbering your summers, your life seems to have gone faster, time seems to speed up, and the realization of how fragile one’s existence is, and how special it is as well, certainly puts many things into perspective. Memories are markings of the passing of time. I guess that my point to all of this rambling is that time is a gift, a blessing we are given, and our days are not guaranteed. No one knows for sure what this day will bring, or if it will be the last, so in that sense, would a number even matter?
For us time is linear, but also, it is more than that. Just think of everything that happens at once in your life, with all your interactions, and the people in your circle and beyond, all around you, all interconnected in some supernatural and natural way. Live well the blessing of a new day and be grateful for the time that has been given to you; it is all a gift from above. I am certainly looking forward to this summer.
When life does not seem to go as expected and might feel as if we are being tested beyond our strength, it may seem as if we are hanging from the last thread. The thread seems to unravel more and more with every feeling, emotion, and physical/mental response we experience during times of turmoil, sadness, and desperation. Sometimes, the intensity of what we are experiencing is so difficult to endure that exhausted as we feel, we might as well let go of that last thread. Some people do. Others see a little bit of hope on that last bit of strength and hold on for dear life, praying for better days or a miracle, and somehow, it happens. As long as you don’t let go, it happens. You are made stronger as you hold on tight; you are renewed as you pray every single day, and sometimes, even every single moment of the day. Somehow, you are lifted up, changed, renewed and refreshed, and you see the light around you. Where there was darkness, now there is light, and you can begin to see it.
Because that act of faith, of holding on, of praying, you were lifted up and made anew. Something changed. You experienced the love of God, a miracle. Holding on tight to the last Thread? Don’t let go; pray. You are being sustained by the love of God, who heard you pray, and your miracle is about to happen.
A couple of weeks ago I watched an interview about AI and its ramifications so far, and possible impact in a very near future. Because artificial intelligence is developing and learning at a very accelerated pace, the person being interviewed believed that there is a small window of opportunity now for humanity to “take control” of AI before it basically controls us and everything around us, our entire world/existence. He said that in a very short time we would not be able to clearly distinguish between AI and reality, so we should not miss the small window of opportunity right now to understand it better and take charge of it.
All this sounded very science fiction to me, but also, a very real possibility. It made me think about the world, our humanity, and role in it, as well as our “sacred space” in this world; we each have one. If this were to happen in a not-so-distant future, where would the last analog space be? As long as we remain human and we treasure our humanity, that last analog space would be within us; it will be inside us, the essence that makes us who we are, our soul. It is up to us to care and cherish that sacred space, where the divine meets us.
Where did the year go? For me, it was truly a whirlwind that swept me in many directions, expected and unexpected, some good, some not so good; however here I am, thankful for it all, and looking forward to next year experiences, whatever they might be. It is life; it means I am alive and open to God’s plan for my life. This is my last post for the year, and I was not sure of what to write to end the year. I did not want it to be another holiday post, so here I am, winging it. Just think of it as a conversation from the heart.
Sometimes, we let ourselves be influenced by others, whether that be media, friends, family, acquaintances, influencers, groups, religion, politics … You name it. Everyone has anything to say about how we should live and plan our existence, but when we think about it, nobody really has the answers. Life is given to us to experience and fulfill it, one day, moment, second at a time. When you think about it, it is beautiful. We were presented with this gift that we did not ask for, and we have the freedom to live it. Whatever things are thrown in the package, it is all ours to make something of it. We are all one big conglomerate in the human race; we all want to live a happy and peaceful, joyful life. We are more similar than not. Hate is a disease, it is sickness. Love is a cure. We decide. We might be influenced, negatively or positively, but we decide. We decide how to act, react, and what to let into our life, what we give our attention to, and how we live day by day. In the end, we only have this day, and sometimes, not even a full one; our seconds are in the hand of our Creator, but so are our blessings. Does it really matter if someone else has more than you? or if you did not meet your goals this year? Does it? When I think about it, and in the big scheme of the journey, it truly does not. I don’t know how long my journey is, no one does, so why not choose love over sickness, inner peace over discontent, gladness over bitterness, and hope, especially hope. The journey is meaningless without hope, and faith.
I hope that you embrace the holiday season and next year with hope, faith, and at peace with yourself, the rest will come when it needs to come. When God made you, he knew who he made, but also, your journey. Your journey is not meant to be stationary; it is meant to be full of change, and change brings growth, knowledge, and understanding, and with understanding comes kindness, and with kindness, love. In that sense, change is good.
I wish you and yours a joyous holiday season and may next year be filled with the kind of blessings that only come from above, the best kind, in my opinion. Merry Christmas! God bless you all.
Love and Light,
Inkspeare
For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given; And the government will be upon His shoulder. And His name will be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. (Isaiah 9:6 NKJ)
“If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is kind, it does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.”
Jesus taught us to love.
He blessed the children. He fed the hungry. He healed the sick. He spoke peace not war. He forgave his enemies. He forgave sins. He loved all, including the outcasts. He liberated the oppressed. He gave his life for all, the greatest act of love. What is not of Love, is not of God.
Will writers even bother to write if competing with a large number of AI generated stories? That is a question that only time will answer. There have been incidents where many AI generated books have made it to best seller lists. Scammers also may use AI to generate reworded versions of actual books. They can think of anything to make a quick buck out of the sweat of real authors by using AI to alter their work. Although Amazon has made a few efforts to alleviate the problem, it continues, and as of now AI generated content must be disclosed when submitted, something that helps but does not solve much.
Artificial Intelligence is becoming better and soon it will be just a matter of time when we could hardly be able to tell the difference between written works by real authors and a piece of junk from Robotina. People who care more about making a quick buck than about the craft are able to generate a story, from cover to content, and illustrations in a matter of minutes, especially children’s books. AI saturated market is the worst nightmare for true writers who love their craft and who bleed through the pages of a novel until it is finished.
How will readers find your work when they have to navigate a system which is so saturated by fakes? Will they even care or will they voraciously consume AI generated content as long as it is good enough to fill an entertaining need or any other specific need? If we have people dating AI generated people, what prevents readers to make a switch to AI generated books? Only time will tell, but one thing is certain, authors are now competing with a new form of “art,” one that has eliminated the middleman aka real author and goes straight to making a product for profit in no time at all. Will authors become discouraged? Will real writing even matter anymore? Will AI mimic our blood and sweat in the pages? Will writers write? Only time will tell.
Faster and faster, we are being replaced by our own creation, maybe to the point of becoming obsolete by our own hand. The creator ceases to exist, absorbed by its own creation. Maybe time is all we have left, or do we? Will AI alter our perception of time, eventually? Will we be able to tell?
Ever met someone who has gone through many vicissitudes in life? Somehow, knowing some of the details allows one to understand better the character of that person. I have met people who have been through many sad experiences in life and somehow, they seem to have a good and grounded personality. I am dumbfounded by the ones who have had a pretty good life since childhood and still manage to complain about how unfair life is and how it should be better. The first group of people is usually more grateful, and the later seems to be somewhat unhappy and in perpetual discontentment. It puzzles me. Does the sum of one’s life determine character? I think it determines the level of growth and maturity.
As a writer, I treasure the moments when I get to know someone a bit better in the details of a conversation, even if it is a brief conversation with a stranger. I know that I will never experience many situations in life that other people might have but knowing and interacting with people will make for better character building in writing. I always thought that psychologists could be good developers of characters if not writers because they have access to a range of human emotions and behavior.
Knowing the details or a bit more of the sum of someone’s life allows me to be less judgmental of others and more sympathetic. Think about the sum of your life up until now, how has it influenced the development of your character/personality? If you are “here-now” and are able to go back in time to answer this question honestly, consider yourself blessed.
A poor mentality has little to do with money. It relates to vision, how we see the world and relate to it, and that world encompasses our past, present, and future. Our past shapes much of our personality traits but does not determine who we are. Its influence marks us but does not make us. Depending on our past experiences, we view the world as a battlefield or a field of flowers. Simply put, some people had it better than other people; however, that does not determine who we become ultimately. It does influence how we view our present and future, and the struggles we seem to endure, many real, other self-created. If we have developed a poor mentality, our vision will be cloudy and we will be in constant struggle, no matter our true reality.
Not long ago, I had a conversation with someone who struggles with a poor mentality despite blessings. This person was telling me how difficult things are financially, and overall, complaining about life in general. I listened, trying to understand this person’s point of view about the situation. I understood that this person had life challenges but also was very blessed at the same time. Knowing part of this person’s net worth I decided to bring some focus to the overall reality, hoping to ease some of the anxiety. I said, ” I don’t know how much money is in your bank account, but I can tell you about the assets you have that I am aware of, and for what I can tell, your real estate net worth is close to two million dollars according to real estate market value right now, possibly more. “ (I had a RE license when I was younger). This person remained a bit quiet, then said, “Do you think so?” I answered, “I know so, and that is only your properties’ market value, which are already paid in full, and you own straight.” That was the end of that, because this person totally dismissed the information I had just shared and continued to complain about how unfair life was. I was puzzled, but I offered my ears. I also knew that this person made double what my husband and I made monthly. This conversation was an eye opener for me. I understood that a poor mentality will keep your mind captive, jailed, and close the doors to much more than opportunity but also to joy, gratefulness, and in a way, to reality.
I share this real example because it truly shows how dangerous a poor mentality can be, and how blinding as well. It causes us to believe that our hands are tied when the solution is in front of us. It makes us victims when we are blessed. It robs our happiness when we have plenty to be grateful and happy about. It darkens our days. It shuts our mind. It dampens our spirit. It makes us believe what is not real and robs us of hope and much more.
Inkspeare 