If you gave someone an iPhone in 1875, they’d probably call it magic. Not because it defied reality, but because it defied the frames they had for understanding the world.
That’s what this moment feels like with AI. It’s not just a software upgrade—it’s a shift we don’t yet have full language for.
But I almost missed that.
I’ve always been the map-first type. I like to know the route before I take the step—systems, checklists, structure. It’s how I’ve led, solved problems, and earned trust.
I used to think structure meant I was not built for wonder. But I am learning that structure helps me reach for it.
But I’m learning that structure isn’t the opposite of imagination. It’s the scaffolding that helps me reach.
Something shifted. Somewhere between learning about embeddings and hearing someone casually ask if AI could replace religion, I felt myself stretching beyond the known. Not to become someone else entirely, but to loosen my grip just enough to ask: What else might be possible?
I remembered a novel that explored what happens when AI confronts belief systems. At the time, it felt like a thought experiment. Lately, it feels more like a real question. . I don’t think that’s how AI works. The data still comes from us. But reading it alongside these tools made me realize something: I’m allowed to wonder. Even if my brain runs on structure, I can still reach for what I don’t fully understand.
Burnout is everywhere. People are tired. Routines calcify over time. No one’s to blame—it’s just a reality in so many public service offices. I’ve felt it too.
But something about this opportunity made me lift my head. Not out of ambition—but because I caught a glimpse of something different.
AI feels a little like stepping into Willy Wonka’s factory—strange, breathtaking, and full of mechanisms I don’t yet understand. It doesn’t just dazzle; it invites questions.
How does it work? What drives it? Who built the gears behind the glass?
And once you’ve seen that, it’s hard to go back.
That’s why I’m no longer content with just the chocolate bar—I want to know how it’s made. I want to understand the levers, the logic, the why. Even if my instincts reach for the checklist, I’m learning to sit with curiosity a little longer without letting go of structure.
This doesn’t mean abandoning structure. I still need the map. But I’m learning there’s value in the forest too—in not knowing every turn before I take it. That shift, small as it sounds, is one of the most meaningful things I’ve experienced in a long time.
The pride I feel is not loud, but it is lasting. I thought I had closed this part of myself, but now it feels newly accessible.
Not everything needs to be abstract. But sometimes, the future feels so unfamiliar that wonder is the only word that fits.
AI-assisted, but human-approved, just like any good front office move. Chat GPT the sixth person off the bench editor for this post. Every take is mine.