Garden Wisdom

NB: As an unusually cold night settled into the Mid-Atlantic, and I prepared to retire for the evening, I wrote & posted this last night in my Facebook gardening group, very quickly, sans editing. It’s not exactly a deep philosophical treatise — more like the lightweight meanderings on an old guy who drank too much tea. But it’s what I wanted to say in that moment, so I am sharing it with y’all this morning.

As I watch the outside temperature plunge six degrees in an hour, I find myself very conflicted. No, not about my plants -- the mini greenhouse is back in the kitchen, and, as for everything else that remains outside... well, via con Dios, plant friends.

No, I’m more conflicted about technology. We just take it for granted that we knew this night was coming five or six days ago -- and that we had a fairly good idea well before that. Time to prepare is a deep luxury that humanity did not have for millennia. Having that luxury now is entirely a result of technological advancement in both software (e.g., weather models) and hardware (e.g., satellites, much faster computers, instant communication networks, etc.).

Concurrently, I see the hubris of technology. From the advent of chemical fertilizers over a century ago, to the harnessing of nuclear energy a few decades later, to smart phones in the hands of children, to the critical mass that AI has now seemingly achieved (with, ironically almost no time to prepare), I see concentrated, game-changing power that humans show little ability to manage.

We are making and building things whose effect, even essence, we do not understand. The hopeful, utopian tales rarely obtain. We unleash insanely powerful widgets on civilization, and naively (lazily?… selfishly?…) assume that it will all work itself out. Sometimes it does... weather forecasting... MRI machines... GPS. Other times, not so much.

AI will soon end my career. That day will come quietly, almost unexpectedly, like the parabolic thief in the night. I will be too old to find similar work, way too young to “retire” (whatever “retire” means -- it was never a goal for me). I have no idea what I will do at that point. Fortunately, my consulting career has been faith-based for 36 years, and that has never let me down. Far worse, millions of young people, already reeling from smartphone addiction and the inevitable crisis of meaning that it brings, won’t have a place to start.

Despite the tone, I write this not to be a pessimist. It is difficult to be negative when I get to sit in front of a machine with a cup of tea, and share ideas instantly with 5,300 people -- all of whom were better informed about the tundral temps of April 21, 2026 because of their interactions in this virtual world.

As I said, I am conflicted. How do we leverage and celebrate such technologies without losing our humanity? I can’t claim to know. But I do think the answer lurks somewhere in the sinews of the word “wisdom”. And part of that is knowing the difference between “can” and “should”. Can you make plants look more vibrant in the near term with chemicals? Sure. But should you? Can you give your ten year-old a smartphone? Sure -- it’s still legal. But should you? I think the data are teaching a hard but clear lesson about that. Can you let those three employees go because an AI company sold you some software? Sure. But is the community that makes your business possible better off? Can a civilization long endure that shrugs that question away in fits of empty, robotic nods to market efficiency?

As I watch the temperature drop a couple more degrees, I find myself wondering how to evangelize wisdom. How does wisdom go viral? It’s not like any of us, myself included, exude it from our pores. We’re all wisdom-poor, slaves to passions of some sort, willing to zap ourselves on the bug catcher du jour. It seems to me that we need to start looking at technology as lever rather than obsession, tool rather than toy. And we need to start looking at our actions and aspirations as corporate rather than personal.

We are not armies of one. We are not Boltzmann brains basking in isolated seas of illusion. We are humans, built for community, thriving in gardens both real and metaphorical. Let’s use technology to grow, not to grow apart.

Thanks for reading.

Lightly edited 4/21/26 at 9:20 PM.