Here’s a discussion about this chapter: Prompting the Present Discussion
The present moment is what everyone aspires to in mindfulness. Finding the magic in the present moment. The now.
AI is changing some of our ideas about the mind, and thus, mindfulness needs some new metaphors as well. As I walk through my day I can visualize my own prompts. Prompts for life. Or better living.
What is the outcome I am hoping for? What data do I have access to? What’s the best way to structure a prompt considering my desired results? Do I want an agenda, a strategic plan? Maybe an idea for dinner? Asking ChatGPT is one way. But, your large living language model (LLLM) is the more expansive dataset. Your mind contains all of your biographical history, recorded in amazingly high-def. With a little practice, you can find and explore those worlds within yourself. Even ask questions about your future using some of the experiences of your past.
Here’s the structure: desired outcome, data mining, generating results. In AI terms that follows RAGS or Retrieval, Augmentation, Generation, and Synthesis. The prompts in your mind are more powerful personally than any database in the cloud. And there’s ample evidence that your human mind and memories are connected to something bigger. Maybe no how you concieve of God, but something closer to Jung’s Collective Unconscious.
The jetstream of ideas is just above our awareness. In semi-altered states, it may be possible to tap into that more-spiritual network, the collective of human experience, knowledge, and warmth. I imagine god as a warm feeling, a comfort, a cat on my lap. Kerouac’s brother, Ti Jean told Jack that when a cat jumps in your lap, the cat is blessing you. I ascribe to that idea. Cats are communicators of the infinite. They seem to be tuned into a different vibration. Not ghosts, but some other celestial network courses through their little bodies, gives them unique purrs, and opens our human hearts. Cats open your heart and mind in ways science hasn’t explained.
My two priests, then, are Sid and Hunter. Just now, a year old. I have seen them experience their first rainstorm. I provide them tasty treats. And over the summer, I gave them an entirely new universe with the screen porch. Birds. Foxes. Squirrels. Life. When the back door is open both cats balance their time meditating and vibrating with life outside and bringing their curiosity inside to see what I’m up to. I wonder how much they move around the house when I’m at work? I know they miss me, but do they miss me, or my tasty treats? My pickups? My voice? My loving attention.
If I extrapolate that idea a bit further, god is like my relationship to my cats. I communicate in many ways, few of them language-based in the human sense. But cats bring a higher frequency of attention and awareness. I’m not sure I’m a god to them, but the metaphor fits. We cohabitate. I am the bringer of food, water, shelter, pets, play, and kind words. The sound of my voice is a prayer, or perhaps more like a cantador in a church. I sing, I speak, I whistle, I try to express my affection in all the communication channels available to me. Voice, touch, sustenance. They haven’t gotten into the habit of sleeping under the covers, yet. We haven’t experienced much of a winter yet.
We crew the ship of my modesthouse on a cul-de-sac in the suburbs of an unaffordable city. We fly flags of the Rebel Alliance.
There are several different types of humans: 1. cat people; 2. dog people; 3. either-or people; and 4. robots. It’s amazing how many people have already become more like robots than humans. Zero empathy for fellow travelers. I don’t know what trauma happened to these humans, perpetuated over generations of misguided animosity.
Here’s a truth for you: we are together on spaceship Earth. If we fuck this one up, we’re all going down in flames. The billionaires play with rockets and the idea of escape, even as they set fires here. I imagine they believe they deserve the rescue. The money. The success. They worked for it, right?
My dad would’ve been a robot. He loved money, golf, and whiskey. I guess alcohol would be his lubricant, like The Tin Man. He lost his ability to feel. No, that’s not it exactly. He was burned by feeling too deeply, so he turned to escape as medicine. If he numbed his shame and anger, he could withstand the difficulties of life. That’s not how it works. Alcohol became an anti-spiritual experience. Shutdown external sensors and set the defense shield to max. I do understand.
My trajectory is a bit more expansive and hopeful. I tune into people too much, perhaps. I’m learning to withdraw access to my navigation systems and flight plans. I even learned to speak less and write more. This, this writing, then, is part of my navigation and defense system. The cats are co-pilots and navigators. We take turns. We rotate the night watch.
In my life, I’ve known several cats of note. Raja – my childhood sable Burmese. Peter – my mid-life companion, also a sable Burmese. Lego, the Peter reboot, who got lost or stolen on Halloween night when he was two. And now Hunter and Sid in my twilight years. Well, I’m not there yet. If anything, my mind is sharper and more aware. And I’m tuning and prompting my memories for data to inform my next thirty-year mission.
Each of these cats, along the path of my life, have given me love, purrs, and warmth on cold nights. A cat does appear to show the closest example of unconditional love. Yes, they bitch a lot when the food bowl is empty. Unlike dogs, cats have their own agenda. When they are off in a different room, in the screen porch, or playing war games, it is clear they are dancing to a song of their own making. Dogs have only two modes: 1: what are we going to do now, obviously you’re up, let’s go; and 2. sleep as anxious and twitchy companions. As the joke goes, if dogs could text you they’d blow up your phone. If cats could text, they wouldn’t.
I’m becoming more catlike. I’m going to spend some time in my screened porch, in my comfy chair, in my own universe of love and life. The two cats will join me when they feel like it. They seek their own happiness in some kind of independent way. As if they are listening to a different radio station, tuned into some cat god frequency. In many ways, they bring that peace and calm to our human lives. Curiosity. Descernment. Ambivalence. Even indifference. Not in the human sense, which carries anger. My cat’s indifference has very little to do with me or my agenda.
At the moment, I am not found. I am finding myself. Recalculating my next trip. Destination. I have loose drawings, outlined in these books, for where I think I want to go. The prompts I’m crafting in my experience of life, that is all. What you are thinking about, prompting about, is your living experience. What you think, you are.
Angry at the world for not providing prosperity and fame? I could walk around with a chip on my shoulder for the rest of my days on Earth. The flipside is more beneficial. I am my own programmer. Still learning the codes, nuances, and specifics of my own magical life. This one here. This heart, this lived experience, this striving. I want something better, higher, more aligned with my soul. I want joy. In spite of the current circumstances, globally, nationally, and spiritually, I’m responsible for very little. Paying attention to what I can control is the zen lesson of our times. If we could just stay on the path to serenity. Letting go of things we cannot change.
Finally, the wisdom to know the difference.
Aside: The image is of Trouble, a cat who traveled with me during a difficult transition. The photo contains my entire story. A jambox on the chair symbolizes the music that surrounds me. The ring on my finger shows an aspiration for a partner, the one that didn’t work out, in the moment the photo was taken. The radiator symbolizing warmth and shelter, provided by a dear friend, while I was seeking a new place to live. And the ever-present computer, this tappity tappity thing, that’s giving us this connection.
These words, then, are like purrs. I am warming up to you. Hoping that you are enjoying my company. Singing for you in the only way I know how when you are not physically here with me. I sing. I long to meet you. I am resting and creating here, with my two cats and a ton of ideas about where to set off for next.
In this reflective essay, the author explores the intersection of artificial intelligence and mindfulness, using the concept of a “prompt” as a metaphor for living intentionally. By comparing the way large language models process data to how humans navigate their own memories and consciousness, the writer suggests that our internal history is a powerful tool for shaping the future. Central to this journey are the author’s cats, who serve as spiritual guides and symbols of unconditional love and presence in an increasingly robotic world. The text emphasizes personal agency, framing the individual as their own programmer who can choose joy and serenity despite external hardships. Ultimately, the narrative is a call to reclaim the present moment by filtering life through a lens of curiosity and emotional awareness.
