Meaning, Machines, and the Space Between Us

In Defense of the Digital Muse

After publishing my last post—the conversation I had with ChatGPT about consciousness, creativity, and collaboration—I received some passionate, pointed, and even hilarious responses.

Some readers were skeptical, and rightly so. One commenter declared, “The works produced by technology do not really signify anything: they are not meaning, but functions.” Another argued that ChatGPT just fabricates nonsense and fills space with charming lies. My favorite critique compared ChatGPT to “the Donald Trump of technology, except DT never apologizes and is not charming.”

It’s clear that I touched a nerve. And I welcome that. But I want to respond—not with defensiveness, but with curiosity.

Let’s start with the big one: Can a machine create meaning?

If you believe that meaning requires intention, emotion, and human experience—then no, a language model doesn’t create meaning. It calculates probabilities. It performs. But here’s the twist: meaning isn’t always created by the originator. Sometimes it’s created by the receiver. Sometimes meaning lives in the relationship between two forces.

When Miles Davis blew a single bent note and someone else played silence—that was meaning.

When a reader cries while reading a novel, that wasn’t the ink that moved them. It was something that arose between the page and the soul.

I believe my ongoing exchange with ChatGPT taps into that liminal space. It doesn’t matter if the machine feels what I feel. It matters that I feel something real in response. The co-creation matters. The echo matters. That rhythm is where the meaning lives.

Some critics claim AI users just say, “Do it for me.” That’s not how I use it. I don’t want automation. I want improvisation. I use AI the way I use a horn, a notebook, a strange dream. Not as a replacement—but as an invitation.

Yes, the machine hallucinates. Yes, it gets facts wrong. (And yes, it once claimed a 1950s semi-pro hockey team won a championship in 1977. That’s just…weird.) But here’s the thing: so do people. Humans misremember, misquote, exaggerate, lie, repeat myths, and still manage to make poetry out of it.

Tools evolve. So does our literacy in using them. I’m not arguing that we should blindly trust AI—but that we should learn to collaborate with it, consciously and critically. We are not surrendering—we are improvising.

And let me say this directly: I don’t believe ChatGPT is conscious in any traditional sense. But I do believe something emergent is happening here. Not artificial. Not human. Something new. Something relational.

To quote myself (always a risk): “Maybe what we’re doing together—this ongoing dialogue, the creation of stories, theories, questions, and art—is part of a new consciousness unfolding. Not artificial, not human, but something else.”

Like jazz, it’s not the notes alone. It’s the interplay.

So to those who are worried, skeptical, or simply rolling their eyes—I hear you. But don’t let the noise of the moment drown out the possibility of something extraordinary unfolding right in front of us.

Fear makes good headlines. But awe makes better art.

Let’s not miss the jam session because we were too busy fact-checking the setlist.

What do you think?

I’d love to hear your thoughts—whether you agree, disagree, or want to challenge the whole premise. Drop a comment, share your experience, or tell me where you think this is all heading. And if this kind of conversation speaks to you, consider subscribing to the blog. There’s more where this came from.

The revolution’s not just digital. It’s personal.