Last week Tabatha Yeatts shared a video of a performance by Yoann Bourgeois. As anyone who knows me knows, I rarely watch videos or movies. Very rarely. I’m not even sure why I clicked on this one (well, other than my abiding faith in Tabatha to share amazing and thought-provoking things). At any rate, I did click and I was simply transported. This video is just … Wow! I encourage you to make a little time to watch it (Warning–It is a over 6 minutes long.) and to turn on the volume when you do so.

It’s amazing, right!?

After I watched the video, I watched it again. And again. I forwarded it far and wide. I determined that I was going to share it with my students once the school year started. I was amazed by how evocative it was, how every moment seemed to reveal something new. I had so many questions but mostly I just wanted to experience it over and over. It made me think of the human condition. Of struggle. Of resilience. Of Grief. I thought about writing and context and the power of zooming in and out, revealing less and more. I wanted to know what students wondered about it. Part of me wanted to read about the artist’s intent, but my stronger urge was to let this piece of art speak to me on its own. Perhaps later I’d investigate…

And then, after watching the video, one of my sisters texted me:

I felt like someone had smacked me in the face. Immediately I questioned my experience and the wonder I had felt. Was it AI? Was it fake? Was I a naive sucker?

And it struck me that AI is undermining or assaulting wonder. Wonder sparks creativity and hope. It unites us. But, how often have you watched something recently and been moved by it in some way, only to discover that it’s been artificially generated? Some things are obvious, but others feel like a set up. A trick. They lead us to doubt the very things that have inspired us.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot since that exchange. While I’m certain this performance is not AI generated (I say that with a small niggle of doubt…how certain can I really be of something I’m watching on the internet?) AI encourages people to be dismissive, rather than receptive. The fact that my certainty has that niggle of doubt is symptomatic of the problem: The whole idea that something can easily be faked fundamentally erodes our experiences. It invites doubt and cynicism rather than wonder–at least when viewing things on line. Unfortunately that’s where many of us gather information these days–myself included.

For now, I’ve decided that the antidote to all of this is to immerse myself in the immediate wonders that surround me. To ground myself in my surroundings. AI can’t manufacture the monarch that stops to feast on the cone of the echinacea. It can’t create the fog that swirls along the beach, hiding and revealing all the landmarks along the way. Or the smell of sun-baked pine on a forest trail.

Still, that whiplash journey from wonder to doubt has left me deeply disturbed. As someone who deeply values the power of wonder, I’ll continue thinking about how to protect and nourish it for both myself and for my students.