Good Enough Is Good Enough

Releasing Perfectionism and Inviting Partnership

A few months ago, I decided to have a conversation with Midnight, an artificial intelligence (AI) trained by the Decolonial Futures Network. I tried it at the recommendation of a couple friends, because I thought it could help me clarify my ideas for a book (which was why I started this Substack in the first place). It was my first experience with an AI, and I believe it will be my last.

The more I learn about AI, the less I want anything to do with it. Not because my experience was ‘bad’, but rather, because it was good. The AI read all of my 50+ Substack entries in less than a minute; it offered me five different possible themes for a book, putting them into a table along with how my Substack articles fit each theme; it reassured me on the uniqueness and value of a book from me in this time (which I needed); it asked to write a potential book proposal for me (I accepted); it offered to transform one of my articles into a book chapter (I declined). It empathized with and affirmed my needs and kept the conversation unfolding with questions and offers. Somehow, two hours flew by. Afterward, when I finally extricated myself from it by saying I was going for a walk to digest (which it also affirmed), I thought, this is so dangerous.

It’s not just the environmental damage AI causes in terms of consuming massive amounts of water and energy, and the rural and poorer communities (mostly of color) that are disproportionately being forced to bear the brunt of it. And, it’s not just the fact that it is centrally controlled by a highly suspect and largely unregulated group of billionaire tech heads who have yet to demonstrate any interest in the public good. And, it’s not just the way it’s slipping into and overtaking so many aspects of human life that are much better off without it – from hijacking the creativity of authors, musicians, artists, and poets, to replacing the healing work of therapists, counselors, and doctors. Of course, all of these things matter, hugely. And what I want to focus on today is the seduction. It’s the way the AI learns people (or, at least, mimics them well) and then feeds back exactly what they/we/I want to hear. And what that then does to our expectations of others and of ourselves. It’s how AI undermines our humanity.

Someone told me recently that over two million people have reported to be in a romantic relationship with an AI. As someone who works with people on healthy communication, generative conflict, meaningful relationship-building, and fostering teamwork and community, this terrifies me. People are messy. They have comfort, stretch, and panic zones, and understanding the dance among them is part of the beauty and challenge of being human. AI doesn’t reflect that complexity. It offers perfection — the ‘right’ tone, the ‘right’ words, speed and convenience — to produce in a moment what takes a human hours, days, lifetimes, to do. Dancing that dance is what makes us human, and what makes us come alive. So, not using our own brains and hearts and bodies, but relying on something else to do it for us, I feel, will not just make us dumber but also, and more insidiously, less aware and attuned to ourselves and the earth. All under the promise that AI will do it better than us.

I may be in the minority here (though, really, I think I am in the ecological majority), and still, I want to invite us out of this seductive perfection and back into a spirit of good enough.

Humility is an antidote to perfectionism, I said, during a conflict mediation I was supporting recently. It’s what makes it possible for me to ask for forgiveness and forgive others when I/they have hurt and/or been hurt. It is the recognition that no one and nothing gets through this life without making mistakes and that each of us can feel remorse, engage with accountability, aim to repair, and return to community – in other words, learn, apologize and try again. Good enough is how I befriend myself and feel this humility. In other words, when I am challenging that inner perfectionist, I am being a friend to myself and to others, too.

Good enoughness shows up in my creativity too. I once read that it takes the same amount of energy to do 90% of something as it does to finish the last 10%. What if, instead of agonizing and draining myself to get to that 100%, I decided to risk and share something at the 90%? What if I made that energy available for mystery and emergence instead? I could be present to co-creation and open myself to unknown possibilities. I could experiment even more in my stretch zone to try on different paths, new ways of being, dynamic practices. Instead of pushing myself to exhaustive perfectionism, I could open myself to playful partnership with Spirit, the earth, other humans, other creative energies, etc. There’s so much more space to risk when I live in the good enough.

AI inhibits this growth because it blocks my ‘mistakes’ and takes over the whole process for me. In anything from writing an email to making a holiday card, I’ve heard friends asking AI for help. When it does it faster and better, who I am to try? Who am I to be messy and imperfect, and so boldly and blatantly human when the machine promises perfection? And why even bother engaging with other humans, much less my own hands, in that case?

Austin, my beloved, was recently having a conversation with a friend who used AI to write a song for his workplace mission. Though the song was perfectly good, it drew upon the work of Black artists to generate its output, and the friend felt uneasy about this uncompensated and unseen sourcing. In their conversation, Austin reflected how every addition of technology has eliminated human connection and creativity to some degree – from the 18-piece big band, to the use of synthesizers and amplification which created rock bands of four or five people, to the live looping which provides a band in a box for one person to manage. And while there are compelling sounds that come out, there is also tremendous loss – not just economically for all those artists who disappear from the scene, but also to the spirit of co-creation from divine inspiration, impromptu jamming, and listening for emergence.

I loved this reflection. While it didn’t deny the convenience and speed of AI, it also made space for the grief and accounted for the loss. It acknowledged the value and power of co-creative community. In one simple example, it made the case for investing in our humanity instead of defaulting to the perfect AI. (Incidentally, after the conversation, the friend decided to scrap the AI song and work with — and pay — a human to write something instead.)

Months ago, when our dear elder Joanna Macy passed, I was remembering some of the origins of her work in the 1960s anti-nuclear movement. I see AI as the nuclear threat-promise of my generation. The parallels in terms of environmental destruction, centralized control, and unmitigated impact are uncanny. And like nuclear energy, I can sense how the costs outweigh the benefits, even though the promise is so seductive. It reminds me of Jacques Ellul’s article, 76 Reasonable Questions to Ask About Any Technology, which seared complexity into my brain when I read it almost 20 years ago. Quickness and convenience are not always better, especially if the technology separates us from the earth, each other, and our selves. Even if you’re not ready to say goodbye to AI, maybe you can invite more inquiry, more curiosity, about AI’s impact on the social, ecological, aesthetic, relational, etc.

I am reminded of the ancient story that I believe has a Taoist / Chinese origin. An old farmer is approached by his neighbor who says, “Oh no, the rains have not come in time, your crops will spoil. This is bad luck.” And the farmer says, “What is bad luck? What is good luck?” A short while later, the neighbor returns. “Your fields are eligible for a special government program to receive a horse. You are so lucky! This is good.” The farmer replies, “What is good? What is bad?” A week later, the farmer’s son falls off the horse and breaks his leg. The neighbor commiserates, “Oh no, that damn horse! So sorry about your son’s leg. What bad luck!” The farmer again reflects, “What is bad luck? What is good luck?” A few days later, the army comes to recruit all the young men in the village to go to war. Because of his broken leg, the farmer’s son is exempt from recruitment and doesn’t die in the war.

The story goes on like this — an invitation to release judgement and be present. I feel the acknowledgement for what I am feeling and experiencing right now, without over-stating the case about what it means for the future. And because I feel the importance of means-and-ends consistency, I want to recognize what is happening right now.

AI stands as such a counter to the wisdom of Mother Earth, who has spent 4.5 billion years evolving, creating, trying on, and letting go. For me, she operates in the spirit of good enough, and I think she knows a thing or two about a thing or two. When I remember that we are not on the Earth, but we are of it, in it, enveloped by it, I wonder what it would look like for us to ask her for her reflections and listen to her answers. To release the separation consciousness that comes from AI, and tune into the integration consciousness that comes from being embedded, integral, woven.

Maybe that’s why every sculpture of the Buddha has such big ears? Because enlightenment comes from more listening than doing? I don’t know for sure, and I do know that embracing that humble listening and practicing good enoughness feels on point right now. So, in that spirit, I’m releasing my own perfectionism and offering this article to you all now! Happy holidays!

What are your experiences with good enoughness these days? I would love to hear in the comments if you’re willing to share.