Another writer on social media was curious about what “motivated your AI move” and what tools others are using. She expressed concerns about “getting around” Amazon and copyright issues, potentially revealing her perspective.
I don’t think I moved. I adapted. I use AI to increase my efficiency, not to do my writing — so I’ve had no need to get around anything. If a writer uses a human editor, does that remove ownership of the final work?
“‘Just because AI tells you to put your finger in a pencil sharpener doesn’t mean you should,’ said every mother ever.”
A recent visit with an Amish (Swartzentruber) friend included some major laughs. She had some recently hand-laundered towels hanging out to dry. I noted that they were quite colorful but assured her that I wouldn’t tell the bishop.
The bigger laugh came while we were discussing some purchases I might make for her in my travels. In the course of making sure I understood her needs, I said, “Well, I can always call you if I have questions.” She, of course, knew I was teasing and, for some reason, found it funny! We occasionally have serious conversations about her faith and practice, so she knows I’m not trying to lead her astray. She appreciates my concern, but also finds it humorous.
During one such conversation, I had some brand new sheets to offer her, but ,I noted they were printed, which conservative Amish shun as to showy. We opened the package together to examine them. She noted they were only printed on one side, so she could turn them inside out! Some would call that a workaround.
I’ll admit that I don’t always understand the reasoning behind the “rules,” but I’m learning. I’m also coming to admire the thinking and creativity behind both the rules and the workarounds.
That sheet-turning trick stuck with me — a simple, clever solution to a real constraint. I found another one recently on the Amish America Blog: The Amish “Black Box Phone.” Erik Wesner does a nice job of explaining the workaround and the thinking behind it. At least one point is that the Amish think about things we Englisch (non-Amish) tend to take for granted.
Where we run on autopilot, collectively the Amish stick to flying their own plane. That’s not a great metaphor because most conservative Amish do not use air travel.
My Amish friend doesn’t criticize me for the decisions I make. I usually enjoy the ones she does. We’ve built a relationship that allows for some teasing and, more importantly, creates respect for each other’s thinking and practice. We also laugh a lot.
Effective parenting is not an easy task, but I recently saw it in action. The simple magic was that this parent was not raising two daughters — she already has two daughters. She is raising two adults.
What are you raising?
Quick Quips are a developing feature of the Walter Writes Blog, which explores simplicity in a complicated world.
According to a recent email from The Dictionary Project, the word “congenial” originally meant “kindred” or “born together.” Definitions do change. Over time, the word has shifted to being more about spirit than birth. Being congenial is now about comfort and relaxation. The phrase “kindred spirits” comes to mind. It doesn’t apply only to close, ongoing relationships. It can exist in the present moment.
Are you encouraging congeniality in your relationships?
Quick Quips are a developing feature of the Walter Writes Blog, which explores simplicity in a complicated world.
Simple things often have consequences. While strolling around Belfast, Maine, during the annual Celtic Celebration, I nearly missed a photo op, perhaps because it was simple. I actually walked past it and had to return.
The Belfast Blinky – a photo by Walter Boomsma.
I doubt I’ll receive a Pulitzer for the photo, but I like it because it is an invitation. It’s an invitation to write the story behind the image.
My first reaction was to report the tragedy behind the photo. While I wasn’t tempted to pick it up and take it to lost and found, I did look around for a crying child. I also briefly hoped that Mom or Dad was carrying a spare. It’s a familiar story for anyone who has raised a child.
The simple photo allows us to write the story differently and give it meaning. We can do that in our minds or on paper. But we ought to think when we do so.
Perhaps what seems a tragedy was actually a triumph. It’s possible the child decided, “I don’t need this anymore.” The Belfast waterfront is not such a bad place to commit to something new.
Later in the day, I found a marker that suggested another, different story. Or maybe not so different. For some reason, I’d missed it during all my previous visits to the harbor.
“Laila Al-Matrouk might have stopped here to talk with, you friend or stranger. She met the world with unabashed curiosity and love. Peace was her goal and justice her path. The Laila in our hearts reminds us to laugh and dance and sing our way to that future.“
The stories we see and hear, the stories we write, may blur the line between tragedy and triumph when we approach those stories with curiosity and love. Leave lots of room to laugh and dance and sing.
