On Prompts, Presence, and the Questions That Shape Us

Hi friends,

This week I’ve been thinking about prompts.

Specifically, how much of the magic that happens with large language models isn’t really about the machine at all—but about the prompt the human brings to it. The quality of the input shapes the depth, beauty, and surprise of the output.

And somewhere along the way, that got me wondering about us.

There are over eight billion human souls currently spinning through the cosmos on this green and brown and blue marble. Eight billion lives. Eight billion stories. All, somehow, cut from the same Divine cloth.

The religious tradition that is my native tongue carries this audacious idea at its core: that we are each made in the image of the Divine. Each one of us is a living, breathing interpretation. Each one prompted by, from, and through a love that refuses to collapse into sameness.

It’s almost too much to fathom.

No—it is too much to fathom.

And that’s exactly what makes it beautiful.

Which makes this a worthy spiritual practice: being still long enough, quiet enough, and present enough to pay attention. To listen for the true hum beneath all the noise. To notice the prompt that was placed within us before we ever had words for it. To recognize the face we had before we ever had a name, title, or biography.

And if a prompt has been put into us, then maybe our lives are meant to be a response to this prompting. Totally unique. Irrepeatable. An individual expression of the infinite.

One other thing I’ve learned about prompting large language models is this: the best ones don’t just respond. They ask questions back.

Maybe we should do the same.

Maybe faith, presence, and becoming fully human isn’t about having better answers—but about learning to ask better questions. Of ourselves. Of each other. Of the Mystery that holds us and breathed its original prompt into us.

So this weekend, maybe the practice isn’t productivity or certainty or even clarity.
Maybe it’s simply this: to sit with the question that’s already alive in you—and trust that listening itself is a faithful response.

Just a thought,

Ashton