What Grows From Here—and Whose Voice Was That Anyway?
Shoveling Poop and Other Uncomfortable Conversations
This morning I was shoveling poop. Hours of it — shoveling and wheelbarrowing composted manure to make new beds for the gardens and replenish the existing ones. It felt especially good today to be doing it, a constructive way to work through some conflicting thoughts. Sending the energy into the ground, to absorb it, cleanse it, and then send it to the world as beautiful flowers and plants in a few weeks.
I’ve written poetry for years — which has its roots in songwriting as a fledgling musician in high school band. I played the flute and immersed myself in words and melody. So much so that my parents got me a tape deck so I could record what I was singing instead of stopping and starting to scribble with a pencil. Through the turmoil of teenagehood I left music behind — I was also quite shy and didn’t like being front and center. Still am.
Many years later, at UBC studying in the Fine Art Department, I wandered next door to the music building at lunch one day. I’d seen a flyer for Paper Bag Lunch Concerts. I sat at the back of the rehearsal hall and shocked myself by crying in public — with the deep understanding that I was studying in the wrong department.
I started looking into switching to music. I had a six-year background in flute and other instruments. But then my daughter was diagnosed with a brain tumor and, as a single parent, we all moved into survival mode — moving with my two children to the Okanagan to stay with friends. I switched to UBCO to complete my Bachelor of Fine Arts. While there, I did an unofficial minor in creative writing. My poetry was lyrics.
Fifteen years ago, my son — who is a musician — worked with me to bring one of those poems to music. I was going to record the voice, but I was here and he was in Vancouver, and then I met my husband. And so the song waited.
For fifteen years I carried it. I could hear it in my mind. I would look up the lyrics every once in a while and just have no idea how to move forward by myself.
By chance earlier this week, I was watching a training by Sabrina Romanov on AI. She very casually mentioned an app called Suno, and I thought I’d check it out — maybe it could help me write some background music for a private podcast I’m working on. I happened to notice that I could upload lyrics, choose some parameters, and have Suno turn them into a song.
I cannot believe what happened. I was crying like a baby. I finally got to hear my song.
And now that one song indulgence has opened a whole big fat can of worms.
I’m an artist and I totally get that AI is a big bad monster that is consuming us, one idea at a time. But how do we stop it from advancing? Was it okay that I uploaded my lyrics — my words — to a machine that then put them to melody and voice? If it’s just for myself, or to share with friends, is that okay? Is it okay if I use it as a base to work from? Whose voice was that anyway, singing my words?
My son is understandably upset. I innocently and with great excitement shared my sort-of-song with him. In hindsight, I might not have shared it with him.
And that stopped me.
Are we becoming secretive because of AI — because of how it is overtaking our lives and stealing our minds in the process? As upset as artists are, rightly so, how do we have a conversation about this if everyone is angry and afraid? Is there a way to learn how to co-exist with AI? I wonder if ‘real artists’ will become what people turn to, not AI—but at the rate things are moving how will people know the difference? Live performances, videos, artist documented creating work?
When is it okay for an artist to use AI?
Long after I finished shoveling, I was still thinking.
You take something raw, like manure, and you put it in the ground. The earth absorbs it, transforms it. In a few weeks, something grows. You don’t always know what—sometimes it’s weeds, even they can be beautiful.
I don’t know what grows from here. But I think we have to keep talking — even when it’s uncomfortable. Especially then.
A message from the Eco Heart Oracle
Elk: Earth’s Heartbeat
Elk is asking you when was the last time you were in sync with your surroundings and with the Earth? Do you hear, and trust, the messages that are being delivered to you daily through your senses and your intuition?
The Eco Heart Oracle is my own deck with messages from 48 flowers from nature, find it here.