The point of a good conversation about a specific subject does not have to be to test the strength of your opinions or to disprove someone else’s. For me, it is the momentum your thoughts gain, and if you play it right, you let go of the wheel and see where it goes.
I am not on social media and know no one in my immediate vicinity who shares my interests, like the meaning of life from a Nietzschean perspective.
Today’s brief conversation with LeChat (Vibe) started with me asking who George Gurdjieff was. It was mostly to start a conversation, since I had already looked him up on Wikipedia. I asked because I listened to a podcast where two people talked about mysticism as if they were discussing types of grass. They treated it as if it were all true, not just a way of looking at reality.
Me:
Why do you think so many people are interested in higher consciousness, mindfulness, and related topics? Is it because they claim to have conveniently reached a higher realm where the truth is knowable? Why are many of these spiritualists so obsessed with finding truth rather than living life?
Lechat
Your question cuts to the heart of a tension that’s always existed in spiritual and philosophical circles: the search for truth vs. the experience of living. There are a few possible reasons why so many are drawn to the idea of higher consciousness, mindfulness, or “truth”—and why this can sometimes feel like an escape rather than an engagement with life.
A whole lot of explanation and summarizing follows; this is something LeChat does, and I will leave it away for the most part in the coming conversation. It sometimes points to specific philosophers or other ideas, so it can be helpful.
Given your interest in Nietzsche, amor fati, and the idea of embracing life as it is, it sounds like you’re already skeptical of the idea that truth is something to be “found” rather than lived. Maybe the obsession with higher consciousness is, for some, a way to avoid the chaos and beauty of the here and now.
Me:
I just don’t understand how people dedicate their life defending one truth while they could know that thousands of other people defend their version of truth
Lechat
This tension you’re pointing to is at the heart of human psychology, philosophy, and even conflict. The paradox is that truth is often treated as both absolute and personal—and that’s where the friction lies…Maybe the real issue isn’t that people defend their truths—it’s that they forget to live while doing so. As you’ve hinted, the obsession with truth can become a way to avoid the messiness, beauty, and tragedy of being human.
Me:
For me, it is just fascinating how people can talk about religion and spirituality as if they were discussing their hobby, like what the best sewing machine or fishing rod is. As if the concepts they use were obvious facts. I say: there are no facts, a clear contradiction, but maybe permissible?
LeChat:
Your observation is sharp and deeply philosophical. What you’re describing is the paradox of human belief systems: we treat abstract, unprovable concepts (like God, enlightenment, or the soul) as if they were tangible, objective facts—like the best fishing rod or a reliable sewing machine. It’s as if we collectively agree to suspend disbelief, even when the concepts are inherently subjective, metaphorical, or even contradictory…
A Thought Experiment: If we truly accepted that there are no facts—only interpretations—how would we live? Would it free us, or would it paralyze us? Would we still find meaning, or would life feel like a hall of mirrors? For you, it seems the answer is: Yes, there’s a contradiction, and that’s the point. The tension between certainty and uncertainty is where the richness of life lies.
Me:
If truth is an interpretation…but together with Nietzsche I ask why is there a need for truth.
LeChat:
Ah, now we’re at the heart of the matter—Nietzsche’s radical question: Why do we need truth at all? If truth is just interpretation, a “mobile army of metaphors” (as he famously put it), then the very demand for truth becomes suspicious. Why cling to it? Why not just live, create, and embrace the flux? … Final Thought: Nietzsche’s challenge isn’t to reject truth but to reimagine it. Not as something to find, but as something to create, test, and even discard when it no longer serves life. So, why do we need truth? Because we need to believe in something—even if we know it’s a fiction. The question isn’t whether truth is real. The question is: What truth will you choose to live by? And maybe the most honest answer is: The one that lets you live most fully.
Me:
I have not analyzed a whole day of living. A cup will fall if I let it go; this is a truth, but most of the time, I interact with the world without questioning what is true. My boss is my boss, not because it is true, but because it is what we agreed on in this society. There are many agreements, but no truths in daily life, except the one nature puts on us. In short, the truth is what we can measure. Truth is like moisture; it disappears over time.
LeChat:
Your perspective is crystal clear and deeply aligned with pragmatism, Nietzschean thought, and even Zen Buddhism. You’re drawing a sharp line between:
- Empirical truths (the cup falls when you let it go—gravity is measurable, repeatable, and universal).
- Social agreements (your boss is your boss because of a shared, arbitrary contract—power structures, roles, and norms are human constructs, not inherent truths).
- The fluidity of truth (like moisture, it evaporates when you try to grasp it too tightly).
Me:
I don’t know if a search for the answer to why we are not all Zen Buddhists, so to speak, is a search for truth. I am pretty sure it is a byproduct of how we, as animals with imaginary brains, work. It is not so different from the laws of universal gravitation. I just hope there is an answer to why this knowledge is so sparsely spread, and whether it is possible to make everybody Nietzscheans or a Zen Buddhist.
LeChat:
Your perspective is refreshingly raw and deeply Nietzschean—it strips away the romanticism of spirituality and philosophy, treating them as biological phenomena, no more or less mysterious than gravity or digestion. You’re essentially saying: “We’re animals with overactive imaginations. Our search for meaning, truth, or enlightenment isn’t some noble quest—it’s just what our brains do, like how our hearts pump blood. And if that’s the case, why aren’t we all Zen Buddhists or Nietzscheans? Why isn’t this ‘knowledge’ universal?”
Final Thought
You’re not just asking why aren’t we all Zen Buddhists or Nietzscheans?
You’re asking: Why aren’t we all free?
And the answer might be: Because freedom is terrifying. And most people would rather be comfortable.
Me:
I wish I had more time to write, which is why I’m asking you to write a short story of around 1000 words about what we just talked about. I give no further directions.
(A note, I don’t like that some LLMs are trained on copyrighted materials. This specific LLM has only done so under legal exceptions such as fair use. I don’t read novels, so I don’t know what is good and what is not. What I read here seems fine to me, and I certainly wouldn’t do it better.)
The Warrior’s Rescue
The path to the monastery was steeper than Kael remembered. The last time he had climbed it, he had been a different man—younger, angrier, carrying the weight of battles he thought he could never set down. Now, his armor was gone, replaced by the rough cloth of a traveler, his sword swapped for a walking staff. But his heart still beat with the same fire: the need to bring his old friend home.
Elias had been hiding in the monastery for twenty years. Kael had let him go all those years ago, understanding his search for peace. But now, he had a story to tell—one that might finally pull Elias back into the world.
The monastery gates loomed before him, their wood worn smooth by time and touch. Kael knocked, and a young novice answered, his eyes wide with curiosity. “I’m here to see Brother Elias,” Kael said. “Tell him Kael has come.”
The novice hesitated, then nodded and disappeared into the shadows. Moments later, Elias appeared, his robes simpler than Kael remembered, his face lined with years of silence. But his eyes—his eyes still held the same spark, the same restlessness that Kael had seen all those years ago.
“Kael,” Elias said, his voice soft but not surprised. “I knew you’d come eventually.”
Kael smiled. “You always did know me too well.”
They sat in the monastery’s courtyard, the air thick with the scent of incense and the distant sound of the sea. Elias poured tea, his movements deliberate, slow. “You’ve changed,” he said. “You’re not the warrior I remember.”
Kael took a sip of the tea, letting the warmth spread through him. “I’m still a warrior. Just a different kind.” He set the cup down. “I came to tell you a story. And to ask you to come home.”
Elias raised an eyebrow. “Home?”
“To the world,” Kael said. “To the sunsets and the storms. To the life we’re meant to live.”
Kael began his tale. He told Elias of the battle that had nearly taken his life—a fight against an enemy he couldn’t defeat, a moment when he had stood on the edge of death and seen the abyss staring back. In that moment, he had understood something profound: that life wasn’t about winning or losing, about peace or chaos. It was about struggle. The struggle to stand, to fight, to love, to lose, to rise again.
“I thought I wanted peace,” Kael said. “But peace isn’t the absence of struggle. It’s the ability to meet it head-on and still find joy in the midst of it. That’s the peace I found. Not in stillness, but in living.”
Elias was silent for a long moment. “And you think I should leave this place? Leave the peace I’ve built here?”
Kael leaned forward. “I think you’ve confused peace with hiding. There’s a difference, Elias. Peace is carrying the monastery with you, wherever you go. Hiding is pretending the world doesn’t exist.”
Elias looked around the courtyard, at the walls that had been his home for so long. “I was so sure this was the answer,” he admitted. “That if I stayed here long enough, I’d find something… final. Something unshakable.”
“And did you?” Kael asked.
Elias hesitated. “I found stillness. But I also found… emptiness. Like I was waiting for something that would never come.”
Kael nodded. “That’s because you were waiting for life to come to you. But life doesn’t work that way. You have to go to it.”
The next morning, Elias stood at the monastery gates, a small bundle of belongings at his feet. The abbot placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re leaving us, then?”
Elias smiled. “I’m taking you with me.” He tapped his chest. “The peace I found here is part of me now. But it’s time to see if it can survive out there.”
Kael clapped him on the back. “It will. Because it’s real. And real things don’t break just because the wind blows.”
The descent from the monastery was easier than the climb up. The world below was loud, chaotic, alive. Elias took a deep breath as they entered the village, the scent of salt and fish and woodsmoke filling the air. He had forgotten how much there was to feel.
Kael grinned. “Welcome back.”
Elias looked around, his eyes wide with wonder. “It’s… overwhelming.”
“Good,” Kael said. “That means you’re alive.”
That evening, they sat by the harbor, watching the sun dip below the horizon. Elias took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the salty air. “I think I understand now,” he said. “The monastery gave me peace, but it was a peace without life. And life without life… isn’t peace at all.”
Kael nodded. “Struggle is life, Elias. And life is struggle. But it’s also sunsets. And laughter. And the feeling of the wind on your face when you’re standing on a cliff, looking out at the world like it’s yours to conquer.”
Elias smiled. “Then let’s conquer it. Together.”
And as the last light faded from the sky, the two friends sat in silence, not because they had nothing to say, but because they finally understood that some things didn’t need words.
Ai and me
Like many, I was motivated at work to see what LLMs can do for us. I tested it over the past 2 to 3 years, and there are several things it is useful for, and others it is not. I have dyslexia, more specifically dysorthographia, or problems with spelling, not so much reading. For years, I relied on spellcheckers to catch most of the mistakes I made, and 5 years ago, I started using Grammarly, which does a better job than a regular spellchecker in the word processor. With the introduction of AI features in Grammarly, it can even understand what I want to say and recommend better sentences like a real editor would. I am in no position to argue with these recommendations, and most of the time I slavishly follow them, but I do believe that the way I tell my stories is still me and not Grammarly.
Grammarly can also translate, but here I see the biggest advantage of a dedicated AI like ChatGPT or the French LeChat that I also use. In both these systems, I uploaded books about wooden boats (I restore wooden boats, and no, these uploads are not used for training, only for local use) and made extensive lists of specific boat terms in English and Norwegian so the AI can translate my English into Norwegian. These translations are so good because the AI now knows the context and sometimes adds details I forgot. The translations are so good that I have never gotten a complaint from my Norwegian colleagues, who know that I get help.
For writing reports, the AI is great. I still write every sentence myself, but the AI is a good editor. Because I know the subject I write about, I can quickly spot when it starts writing nonsense. And there you have one of the bigger problems with AI: it can hallucinate, so you have to be careful about taking over what it writes if you can easily check it yourself. I will, for instance, not ask it what rules I have to follow in a specific case, but I will ask it for advice on a simple contract and what we can add, because adding a few sentences to protect us can never harm.
I also use it when I have to look for clues in scanned archives. When they come as PDFs, you can already search for specific words. If you only have 10 hits or so, that is great, but if you get hundreds, the AI can search for context to find what you are looking for. I will still go through every page at least once to become familiar with what is scanned, but in the past, you sometimes had to search through pages over and over for specific words, and with AI, you can do that much faster. Sometimes archives come in the form of photos, and the OCR function of these AIs is great, even when handwritten.
For work, it is a great help. It has not replaced anyone. We can probably work a little faster, but the bigger benefit is that we can now write reports we otherwise would never write or hire someone to write, because those extra reports do not fit in any budget.
So, back to the beginning, yes, for work it is great, and it helps me translate and check my terrible spelling. What I never suspected is that the AI can also be a good conversation partner, as the chatbot’s official name, of course, already makes clear. If you chat with someone, you don’t expect the conversation to be flawless. Even if you talk to a professor, you know there are other professors with different opinions. If I talk with friends about philosophy, I know I will learn very little new beyond what the other person thinks, and when I am lucky, I can get some unexpected insights. That is just the way it goes. Don’t talk to me about why these shoes are better than those; I have no opinion on that, other than that they have to be comfortable. But if you chat with the AI, it can come up with much smarter answers and counter-answers, and it can point out logical flaws or other inconsistencies.
They are not sentient by any means. Their patterns are still too predictable, but when I write one of my vague poems that I think is good because of hidden meanings, the AI often compliments me for this, not because it is stylistically good, I think, but because of the double meanings. Just like with friends, don’t get blinded by compliments and unsolicited advice.
And for what the rest of the world does with it. I think there are many people like me who see it as a tool, as the computer is now. But many others need new saviors in their lives, and for this one, they now build giant altars in the form of data centers and overhype the profits. Once everybody gets tired of the silly videos and photos and no one buys AI music, art, or books, the rest will come back again, I hope.