What We Already Know

Artist: Francesca Woodman (1958 - 1981) Title: Self-Deceit #1 (Roma)

on meaning, mirrors, and the stories we tell

We often shy away from what we already understand.
Maybe it’s because if we truly let that understanding change us, the chaos we cling to—the noise, the struggle, the chasing—might begin to fade.
And if the chaos fades, we’re left with something quieter, scarier:
the question of meaning.

Without it, directionless freedom can feel like emptiness.

That’s why direction matters—not just goals, but meaning.
We need to feel like we’re moving toward something, not just running from something.

Goals can motivate us.
But meaning sustains us.

And yet, we confuse the two all the time.

We chase careers, accomplishments, recognition—only to arrive and find them strangely hollow.
As Kourtny Love sings:

“When they get what they want
Well, they never want it again”

It captures the ache of modern life: the endless cycle of wanting, getting, discarding.
Because what we wanted was never what we truly needed.

That’s why we’re drawn to dystopias—not just as warnings, but as mirrors.
Orwell warned of fear and surveillance.
Huxley warned of sedation and distraction.
But both were pointing at something deeper: what we already know about ourselves.
And what we’re not yet willing to face.

This is where AI enters—not as an oracle, but as a reflection.

AI is not a prophet. It’s a mirror.

It shows us the world we’ve made: the systems we uphold, the desires we repeat, the emptiness we encode.
It scales our knowledge—but also our fear, our denial, our hunger for something more.

So the question isn’t: what will AI become?
The question is: what are we already becoming?

And maybe that leads us to intimacy.

Not just with others—but with truth, with presence, with ourselves.
Not in performance, but in contact.
In the space where meaning isn’t achieved—but lived.

We don’t have to chase it.
We have to show up for it.

And if there’s sadness in letting go of the noise,
maybe it’s not the end of something.
Maybe it’s the beginning of finally becoming real.