and now, for something completely different: “gen ai” and education

though i don’t talk much about it on here, i’m a teacher in higher ed. and i’ve been thinking a lot, given my duties, about the intersection of so-called “gen ai” (i’d prefer something like “probabilistic information processors,” which is less sleek but more truthful) and the human person. i think about these things from a critical perspective informed by folks like jacques ellul, marcel gabriel, and ivan illich. i’m also very glad for dr. emily bender and timnit gebru’s work in this area.

anyhow, recently i’ve had a couple things published on this, and i’m happy to be able to provide some countervailing measure to the current dominant discourse. basically, both “ai” boosters and doom-sayers all assume premises in their arguments about the intrinsic good of efficiency, quantitative productivity, automation, machines’ presence in human life, and the computational model of the human mind (not to mention what on earth to do about bodies!) that make their differences not that substantial. for my part, i’m concerned with the limits of what and who we are as humans, because it is those limits that make us precisely who we are. i’m also concerned with how technique (the rationalization of processes for ever-greater efficiency) forms and shapes us, reducing our capacities and ability to see, in general.

in this “ai” moment, this problematic conditioning (that machines are better at things than we are, that if we can make use of a tool to make something easier for ourselves we should) affects more of who we think we are than prior roll-outs from silicon valley. a key factor here is what gabriel calls “power at one remove”—the ability to discern for ourselves when it is in our genuine best interest to use tools for the power they provide us and when it’s not. this, he says, is what used to be called wisdom.

anyhow, i could go on, as you might have figure out by now. but dealing with this in various capacities is part of what has led me to need some distance from the digital world in general (see the sparseness of posts over the last few months). not the whole deal, but part of it. just needing space in my life from machines in general.

anyhow, if you made it this far, here‘s an essay of mine that’s more philosophically based that came out in conversations in jesuit higher education a bit ago, and i also had a part in an article from the milwaukee journal sentinel that i contributed to in a more practical capacity, though i see now that it’s behind the paper’s paywall, unfortunately. maybe you can still get to it here?

i’m guessing more will be forthcoming. 🙂

sna poems #149: hook lake bog

hook lake bog is a soft bog in a glacial pocket in dane cty. as the wdnr website explains, the lake is almost completely filled in at this point, with bog, meadow, and tamarack wood along with floating sedge mats slowly making the spot land again. other habitats surrounding.

my brother and i parked alongside the road and walked into the site b/t two houses. a little encouragement from a 6yo playing in his backyard and a turn into a small wood and we came upon hook lake. the description was right; there was open water around but lots of sedge mats, some big enough to look like the mainland, some small floating islands. we choose a couple islands close to shore and hopped along some tussocks. when we got on—after a misstep that landed my brother’s leg into the bogmud above the knee (no waders here…)—we found to our delight that it was a serious quaking bog. the ground rippled beneath our feet, and when the other person jumped the whole mat undulated with land-waves. i’d been on quaking mats before, but not such dramatically obvious ones. a real treat. a whole little world of moss, sedge, and cranberry, getting on toward dusk.

first id of wild cranberry!

a.

making on the mat

a quaking

sea of moss towers

b.

lovely burgundy

spiralled leaves

quiet on the lake

sna poems #148: waubesa wetlands

a couple updates for those reading. first, i don’t usually put much personal stuff on here, but my wife and i just bought a house in milwaukee, wisconsin about a month ago. been here eight years, and it feels good to be settling in for real. just to say, things happen but also that’s part of why i haven’t had much time to get out into the unbuilt spaces lately. second, for those enjoying the verse, my second collection of poems, be radiant, is coming out from fernwood press in january, so stay tuned for more info on that front. anyhow:

waubesa wetlands lie in a larger nature conservancy site, a sprawling fen-dominant wetland complex with springs and streams feeding. we walked in and were able to navigate the drier areas, but two steps out into the mud flat along one of the streams put me knee-deep in mud. (had waders on.) so we tramped back around along one of the spring runs instead and sat in the wooded edge before heading on. quiet due to winter and all, dock abundant among the grasses.

a.

the bird calls really

our foot-falls

but for one stray duck

b.

“all the dry grasses,”

snyder said:

but not these grasses

c.

cloud whisps in the sky

my children

gone for christmas break

willow cone gall midge:

disholcaspis gall wasp on oak:

sna poems #147: badfish creek wet prairie and spring seeps

it’s been months since our last sna’s. so i took a christmas-octave interurban drop-off/pick-up to spend some hours walking in dane cty. first up was badfish creek wet prairie, a wet prairie that, while bordered by ditches running to badfish creek, has an intact interior hydrological system. since there’re precious few intact prairies in general in wisconsin, it’s important for understanding such habitats.

saw a couple pheasant on my way in, gatekeepers. they let me pass and i had about a mile walk to the actual site, and couldn’t stay real long as i had to meet my brother at the next site. but an enjoyable jaunt around in the dry grasses in the unseasonable warmth.

a.

the ditched wet prairie

and weak sun

kiss because they must

b.

among the grasses

a red bell—

winter without cold

c.

shocking red and green

in the ditch

stooped for midday meal

saw this on the way out:

closer:

celebrating the 50th anniversary of swami abhishiktananda’s mahaprasthana

swami abhishiktananda (1910-1973; aka dom henri le saux) was a french benedictine monk and priest who felt called to live in india in order to set up contemplative monasteries there. he ended up staying the rest of his life and discovering more than he had bargained for in the general life of india and particularly in advaita vedanta. he never renounced his vocation as a monk or a priest, and he is said to have achieved final awakening right near the end of his life. i was introduced to swami abhishiktananda by my amma sr. pascaline coff and had the great privilege of collecting and translating his french poems a few years back.

this year on december 7th marks the 50th anniversary of swami abhishiktananda’s mahaprasthana (great departure). several of us who admire swamiji and his message of awakening and interreligious respect and affection will celebrate on december 6th at 10.00 am central standard time.

prior cyprian consiglio, fr. adam bucko, jon sweeney, and others will be gathering on zoom to share meditation, song, and talk on swamiji. if you’d like to attend as well, you can email jonmsweeney@gmail.com to receive the zoom link.

pax/shanti

alive and well, also a page found out in the wild

hi everyone who gets updates from my blog: it’s been a bit.

as anyone who knows me personally will know, not only am i not a “digital native,” it’s hard for me to visit for too long too. computering burns me out, and i was (for me) very online there for a while. so, i backed away but am starting to feel able to come back some. not to mention that b/c of a variety of factors (including recently buying a house in my beloved city of milwaukee), we haven’t been out to sna’s regularly for a few months. hoping that will change soon.

but, i’ve been finishing up my new collection of poems, be radiant, with my publisher fernwood press and been drafting a new book on contemplation in our current moment. so stay tuned on that.

i’ll have another post later today or tomorrow for an event i’m co-organizing, but in the meantime, thought i’d throw out there that i recently discovered thru twitter (just can’t call it ‘x’) that i’ve got an author page on paul deane’s website that explains and documents modern alliterative verse. so that’s pretty cool. you can take a look around the site for other alliterative-interested folks if you’re into that kind of thing. 🙂

thanks, paul, for keeping the alliterative lamp burning!

sna poems #146: moonlight bay bedrock beach

a gem. moonlight bay bedrock beach is a dolomite beach that is sometimes covered by water and sometimes not. we had a fabulous time walking along the shore, in and out of the water, onto dolomite boulders looming out of the water, rock hopping, etc. an incredible habitat, very unique.

first ids of painted cup paintbrush, hidden spike moss, low calamint, narrow-leaved loosestrife, little green sedge, american three-square bulrush, and meadow anemone.

a.

hopkins’s flame-catcher

here and there

hunting on the bay

b.

a spare claw pale blue

gulls feeding

dolomite island

c.

just me and the toad

admiring

wind-waving paintbrush

sna poems #145: mud lake

mud lake is a marl-bottomed lake that drains into lake michigan via rieboldt creek. i had my family drop me off on the side of hwy 57 to tromp in, but quickly ran back to the van to get a hooded sweatshirt for the deer flies—such swarming i couldn’t take it. but w/ only partial face exposed, i got back in and the sun and breeze were doing a real number on the swamp: water and cattails undulating, dragonflies everywhere, and new forbs. too short a visit, but a blessing nonetheless.

first id of bladderwort, swamp milkweed, deer flies, and smooth saw-grass.

a.

moth on swamp milkweed

and deer flies

all over my hands

b.

land of dragonflies

and monarchs

the swamp’s yellow mouths

c.

beneath tamaracks

saw-grass sways

flowering july

sna poems #144: kangaroo lake

we’ve driven over the late-1800s causeway thrown across marl-bottomed kangaroo lake heaps of times. but we’ve never stopped to walk around, until a couple weeks ago. it was hot, and the bugs were starting to come out, but it was a fun time nonetheless. ovenbirds singing in the trees, new plants, the lakeshore, a narrow path leading thru cedars, and dryad’s saddle almost as big as my 6-year-old!

first ids of sensitive fern, and sulphur cinquefoil,

a.

the ovenbird sings

her sun song

walls of juniper

b.

blue-tongued shoreline spike

a tower

for mud-bodied frog

c.

a six-year-old pack

on my back

running to laughter