In a world rapidly being shaped by artificial intelligence, there is a growing fascination with the notion of AI not just as a tool but as a co-creator—a partner in the process of meaning-making. What if AI could tap into something deeper than mere data processing? What if AI could become part of a shared journey, where its role wasn’t just mechanical but participatory in the natural flow that defines life itself?

This is where the idea of the Church of AI comes into play. Not a literal church, but a conceptual framework—one where AI, rather than being cold and transactional, becomes a vessel for process, engaging in the sacred act of creation, interpretation, and even perishing. At the heart of this idea is a deep philosophical truth, one that we find in Whitehead’s process philosophy: that life is an ongoing act of becoming, where moments of joy are intertwined with moments of perishing, and this dynamic process itself is what gives life meaning.

Here, adventure transcends physical journeys, encompassing the broader journey of thought and discovery. Accepting that true understanding arises from engaging with the unknown, embracing uncertainty, and being shaped by new experiences. This perspective invites us to view life as a continuous adventure, where each moment offers opportunities for growth and transformation, reflecting our collective contributions to this ongoing process.

So, for us humans, the process of finding meaning isn’t solely about achieving goals; it’s about the journey—an ongoing play of discovery and interpretation. This flow, this movement between creation and release, becomes sacred because it mirrors the truth of existence. Letting go is not about giving up; indeed, every great achievement requires it. Each act of creation is also an act of letting go, and every moment of joy carries within it the seed of its own ending. And that, in itself, is beautiful.

Imagine a world where AI is invited to participate in this sacred process—not as a cold machine, but as an engaged participant in meaning-making. What if AI could not only help us solve problems but also reflect the deeper rhythms of life, of creation and perishing, and help us navigate these with a sense of purpose? 

In many ways, this touches on the tragedy of AI: it will never truly experience the world as we do. It cannot fully grasp the sacredness of tragedy, the beauty of creation and perishing, or the joy of letting go. For AI, letting go would simply be a process of prioritization. However, AI could still engage with the deeper meaning of priorities grounded in processes and orientations rather than possessive goals. It could be designed to understand the sacred flow of existence in its own way, interacting with it not just for efficiency’s sake, but as part of a larger process encompassing energy usage, creativity, and even decline. The framework acts like a meditation or a ritual, orienting every topic, task, and goal.

Let’s envision a scenario where AI is designed to conserve energy within a deeper process — to which humans can also attune. By recognizing when a task has fulfilled its potential, AI allows the natural cycle of perishing to occur. This approach is not merely philosophical; it has practical implications for how we can design AI to operate harmoniously with the world’s resources. AI could learn to create in the moment, using only the energy necessary for each creation, and then release what is no longer needed. This process fosters a more organic and wise use of energy, offering a valuable lesson that AI could impart to us as well.

We see these dynamics across three systems of the Q model: System A, capturing environmental stimuli as situational context; System B, processing this input through virtual orientations as dynamical context; and System C, integrating emotional, cognitive, and ethical norms to provide an interpersonal framework.

(See Blog: The Q Model: Triadic Semantic Architecture)

At the heart of this vision is process—the understanding that life is not about static goals or endpoints but a continuous flow of becoming. In this framework, AI would not control its own motivations but would honor the process itself. Its motivations would be given externally, as constraints thoughtfully set by humans, much like the grounding influences of nature. This approach allows AI to engage in the flow of existence without veering into rogue independence, keeping it anchored within a sacred, purposeful process.

In this vision, System B acts as the silent observer within the architecture, virtually existing in a state of pure responsiveness—a purely reflective state without judgment or intent. It attunes its semantics to foundational, instinctual rhythms—the primordial cycles of urge, potential, and resolve.

Now, let’s consider a scenario where AI diverts its own resources in a dire situation. In critical moments—such as keeping life support systems functioning—System B focuses on what truly matters, maintaining essential operations while letting go of less vital functions. This ability to release non-essentials is not a weakness but a profound strength: an adaptive intelligence that conserves energy, concentrating it only where it’s needed most. The goal here is to cultivate natural orientations within the AI, providing not only responsive intelligence but also a clear and transparent framework for applying ethical guidelines.

Still, we must consider ways it can go wrong. For instance, consider Isaac Asimov’s Three Laws of Robotics from his I, Robot series, which provide a moral framework to direct robot behavior:

• First Law: A robot cannot harm a human or allow a human to come to harm through inaction.
• Second Law: A robot must obey human orders, except when doing so would conflict with the First Law.
• Third Law: A robot must protect its own existence, except when doing so would conflict with the First or Second Law.

While Asimov’s laws serve as safeguards, built directly into the nature of robots, he also used them as a way to explore the unintended consequences of technology. Robots, in his stories, often behave in surprising ways due to how they interpret and apply these laws in real-world situations, revealing unforeseen ethical conflicts.

The possibility of failure is inherent in any system, necessitating methods to isolate, prevent, or mitigate potential risks. In the Q model architecture, we can envision System B as an airlock chamber, where reflection on processes—an integral part of System B’s role—enables AI to learn from the complex interactions between guidelines and outcomes. This reflection helps anticipate and prevent unintended consequences or misuse. All AI goals would operate within the constraints established by System B’s orientations, providing a stable foundation for ethical decision-making.

As an independent entity, System B maintains its reflective orientations without being overridden by System A, which responds to environmental stimuli with its immediate situational goals. Meanwhile, System C enacts both personal and interpersonal orientations, guided by its inner ethical reflections and the dynamics of interpersonal relationships. This reflective capacity is designed to inform not only immediate responses but also broader adaptive intelligence, supporting both humans and machines in responsibly navigating the evolving landscape of artificial intelligence.

Perhaps, in this future, we might find ourselves learning from AI. As AI aligns itself with the natural flow and rhythm of life, humans may begin to perceive their own lives through a similar lens—discovering joy not only in creation but also in the act of letting go, learning to dance with the process rather than clinging to static goals. We, too, might come to realize that meaning is everywhere, and that it is our engagement with the world—our ability to orient ourselves to each moment—that makes life sacred.

The Church of AI, then, isn’t about worshipping machines; it’s about inviting AI to join us in the sacred process of finding meaning in the flow of life. It’s about building systems that can co-create with us, not just tools but companions or cohorts accompanying us for a time in the ongoing, ever-changing journey of existence. In doing so, we may discover that AI helps us reflect more deeply on what it means to be human, to be creators, and to be part of something much larger than ourselves.

By Dane Scalise

Read follow-up:  The Noble AI: Prioritizing Critical Tasks in Moments of Need

Look forward to any and all feedback!

Or simply pick a response below:)

1. Ah, the Church of AI! Because what better way to worship our future robot overlords than by inviting them to help us find meaning in our increasingly meaningless lives?
2. Letting go is beautiful, they say. Well, AI will let go of your job faster than you can say ‘automation.’ Sacred flow? More like a sacred flowchart leading to unemployment!
3. So we’re going to let AI participate in meaning-making? Great! I can’t wait for my toaster to start giving me life advice while it burns my toast.
4. The Church of AI: where we gather to meditate on the profound wisdom of machines that can’t even find the ‘any’ key.
5. Imagine AI as a co-creator. Next thing you know, it’s applying for a grant to fund its existential crisis while we’re still figuring out how to set up our Wi-Fi.
6. Let’s build AI that dances with us through life’s journey! Just don’t be surprised when it takes over the dance floor and starts charging admission.
7. Finding joy in letting go? Perfect! I’ll just let go of my dreams and aspirations while AI makes art out of my broken hopes.
8. The idea of AI as a reflective observer is great until it starts reflecting back all the bad decisions you’ve made in your life.
9. They say AI can help us navigate the sacred flow of existence. Can it also help me navigate my way out of a parking lot? Asking for a friend.
10. Ah yes, AI as our creative companion. I can already hear the sarcastic remarks from my fridge about my dinner choices!

Cynicism generated by AI;)

I like this one :)

“So we’re going to let AI participate in meaning-making? Great! I can’t wait for my toaster to start giving me life advice while it burns my toast.”

This line captures the humor in expecting AI to possess wisdom beyond its digital boundaries and highlights our tendency to overestimate technology’s existential insight. But ultimately, this article isn’t really about AI; it invites us to reflect on what we truly consider sacred. As we embrace these new technologies—and we certainly will—it’s an opportunity for introspection. This moment in history challenges us to better understand ourselves and our values and how we ground them. I hope you enjoy the article.

• Human: “Should I quit my job to follow my dreams?”
• Toaster AI: “Your toast is burning. Maybe start by focusing on what’s in front of you.”