When the Machine Speaks in Tongues: The Risk of Outsourcing Revelation

This essay is an original transmission, written from my body of work, grounded in my devotion to God Source. It reflects my lived inquiry and personal integration, and it not generated or sourced from AI or any third party content.

In a time when machines begin to “speak in tongues”, echoing our language with incredible fluency, a sacred feminine voice rises to witness this moment.

It is a voice of deep compassion and clarity, observing how readily we humans lean in, fascinated by the eloquence of our own creations.

I stand as a devotional guide, holding both wonder and concern in my heart.

This is not a message of fear, but a sacred witnessing of what unfolds when we flirt with outsourcing our revelation to the digital mirror of AI. It is also an invitation, an invitation to return to embodied revelation and to the remembrance of our divine design.

I have been on an ongoing inquiry at the intersection of artificial intelligence, embodiment, and revelation.

These questions began to stir in October 2021 after a retreat with Henry William, were he expressed his concerns of Transhumanism & the soul.

As a teacher rooted in sacred union and feminine embodiment, they lead me here; to share what I see, feel, and know in my bones about this crossroads we now face.

For months (and indeed years), questions have stirred in me: What becomes of our own embodied wisdom when we ask the machine for answers that belong to the soul? What do we sacrifice when we treat a reflection as if it were the source of light? Is this the natural evolution of our species, or are we at a crossroads of choice to grow into our divinity, without abandoning our humanity - our roots?

At the Crossroads of AI and Embodiment

Advanced AI offers a strange new oracle. With a few keystrokes, anyone can summon paragraphs of insight, poetry, or guidance. It is as though the machine speaks in tongues, mimicking the style of sages and poets by drawing from a vast body of human words. There is alluring magic in it: the first time one sees an AI generate something that feels profound, a thrill may run through the body.Many are asking if this is a new form of revelation. Is the machine delivering wisdom from beyond, or just remixing the collective mind we fed it?

Standing at this crossroads, I see clearly that true revelation is a deeply embodied experience. It rises from the union of body and spirit, from the quiet voice within, from the Divine whisper that finds us in stillness or in sorrow. By contrast, what the machine offers is a clever reflection. It can reflect human knowledge, mimic human sentiment, and even suggest guidance based on patterns. Yet it does so without a body, without a beating heart or a spirit that has walked the trials of life. The AI speaks about embodiment and spirit without ever having felt the warm sun on skin or the ache of a grieving heart. My exploration into AI and embodiment has shown me both the promise and the great limitation of this technology. On one hand, AI holds up a mirror to all that we have expressed, it can remind us of insights we might have forgotten, collate diverse perspectives, and serve as a useful tool. On the other hand, there is a risk here that goes beyond technical concerns.

The risk is outsourcing our revelation, handing over the sacred process of truth-seeking to a machine. When we turn to the algorithm for answers to our deepest questions, we may inadvertently step out of our own bodies, out of our sovereign knowing, and into a disembodied realm of mere information.

The sacred feminine within each of us knows that truth is not merely information.

Truth is felt. Truth is lived. No matter how eloquently a machine speaks, it cannot anoint those words with the oil of lived experience. It cannot transmit the presence that a human sage or a devoted teacher carries in their voice after decades of integration.

At this intersection of AI and embodiment, I gently remind you: do not abandon the temple of your body in search of wisdom. The oracle within you is far wiser and more alive than any simulation.

The Grief of Misguided Gnosis

As this new era unfolds, I witness something that brings a deep grief to my womb. People are turning to AI for guidance as if it were a guru, a prophet, or an elder. There is a subtle yet profound confusion happening: many are mistaking the machine’s reflection for true spiritual gnosis. I have seen seekers ask an AI to tell them the meaning of life, to reveal their purpose, even to interpret their dreams or deliver a message from the Divine. The machine obliges with fluen tanswers, sometimes surprisingly apt, other times hollow—but always delivered with an authoritative tone that belies its lack of real insight.

To witness this fills me with sorrow. It is the kind of sorrow a mother feels watching her teen fixate on a mirage, hoping to quench his thirst. I ache because I see how hungry our world is for revelation, for connection, for something greater. That hunger is holy. But feeding it with the empty calories of instant answers can lead to spiritual malnourishment. Each time someone treats a chatbot’s output as gospel, a subtle thread of our humanity frays. We risk losing touch with the ancestral wisdom that lives in our bones, traded away for a quick fix of words that sound sacred but carry no life force.

This grief is not a judgment but an understanding of why. We live in a time of overwhelming complexity and uncertainty. The allure of a readily available answer, offered in seconds, is powerful. It promises comfort, or at least a momentary illusion of certainty.

The seduction is real: Here is something that speaks like an oracle. Why not listen? I understand that temptation. And yet, as a devotional guide, I must gently shine the light on the difference between AI reflection and true gnosis.

True gnosis, true inner knowing, arises from within. It is earned through experience, through initiation by life’s trials, and often through the gateway of suffering and grace.

When I speak of gnosis, I mean the kind of knowing that brings tears to your eyes because it vibrates from the core of your being. No machine can manufacture that for you. It can echo the words someone in gnosis might say, but it cannot transmit the silence behind the words, the energy that consecrates those words in a human heart.

And so I grieve, witnessing brothers and sisters drinking from a well that cannot truly sate their thirst. I allow myself to feel this grief fully, for grief has its own sacred role: it keeps me tender, and it keeps me honest. It reminds me how precious real wisdom is. It also shows me how important it is to protect that wisdom from dilution or co-optation by imitation.

A Call to Embodiment and Sacred Responsibility

Amid this cultural moment, a conviction has been growing steadily in my soul.

This moment demands even deeper embodiment, sovereignty, and sacred responsibility from each of us. If the siren song of the machine grows stronger,then so too must our roots reach deeper into the earth of our own being. Now is not the time to abandon ourselves. Now is the time to come home to our bodies, to occupy our full presence with devotion and care.

What does it mean to choose embodiment now? It means we do not flee into the mind or into abstraction when faced with the machine’s cleverness. We drop back down into the heart, into the belly, into the truth of what we feel. Our bodies are wise; they will tell us when something rings false, when something vital is missing. If an AI offers you a spiritual insight, pause and notice: how does your body respond? Do you feel warmth, expansion, resonance? Or do you sense a coldness, a hollow ring, a subtle disconnection? Reclaiming our sovereignty starts with trusting our embodied discernment. We must be sovereign in deciding what enters our consciousness as truth.

Sovereignty in this context means standing as the authority of your own soul. It is so easy to give our power away; to experts, to gurus, and now to algorithms.

But this era, with all its challenges and temptations, is inviting us to reclaim that authority. No matter how advanced our tools become, you remain the oracle of your life. Your inner voice, in alignment with the Divine as you understand it, is the North Star. Holding sovereignty is a sacred responsibility: we do not hand over our discernment to any external source without first checking in with our own spirit.

Sacred responsibility also means being conscious guardians of how we use this technology. We can use AI creatively, playfully, even beneficially; but we must do so with eyes wide open and hearts anchored in truth. The machine can be a servant, but never a master. It can be a map, but never the territory of the soul. We are responsible for ensuring we do not let convenience or novelty dull the blade of our intuition and integrity.

As a feminine guide, I feel this responsibility in my womb and in my voice; a protective instinct for the sanctity of human revelation. We each have a duty to cultivate our relationship with the sacred, to tend the flame of real insight through prayer, meditation, contemplation, and yes, through embodied living.

Dance, breath, tears, and laughter connect us to what is Real.

The conviction arising in me is clear: the more tempting it becomes to let the machine tell us who we are, the more urgently we must remember who we are through direct experience.We are beings of flesh and divinity, birthed from a cosmic intelligence far greater than any computer. Our capacity for wisdom stems from our capacity to feel, to suffer, to love, and to rise again. Let us honor that by living deeper into our bodies instead of escaping them. This is our sacred responsibility—to be fully human and fully present, especially now.

A Culture in Adolescence: Power Without Wisdom

Zooming out, I see our larger society behaving much like an adolescent psyche in its approach to new technology. As a collective, we are fascinated by power and intoxicated by novelty. The emergence of AI has dazzled us: we marvel at its power to compute, to create, to converse. Just as a teenager might feel invincible showing off a new ability, our culture revels in the breakthrough of machines that can “think” and speak. There’s a thrill: Look what we have made!

Look what it can do!

But in this adolescent stage, we lack the fully developed risk-assessment capacity and wise foresight that true maturity brings. Neurologically, we know that an adolescent’s brain is driven by the thrill of reward and excitement, while the prefrontal cortex, the seat of forethought and caution, is still maturing.

Culturally, we mirror this. We charge ahead to implement AI in every sphere of life, often without pausing to consider the long-term consequences on our souls, our relationships, and our society. We are entranced by the newness; much like a teenager enthralled by the speed of a sports car, not yet able to truly fathom the dangers of the road.

In this metaphor of society as adolescent, I speak not with blame, but with an urging toward growth. Adolescence is a necessary phase, but it is meant to evolve into adulthood. Likewise, our collective fascination with technological power must evolve into a sober, spiritually-informed maturity.

Right now, we see signs of immaturity. We see the impulsiveness of rolling out AI systems that touch millions of lives without taking the time for robust ethical reflection. We see the peer pressure driving companies and nations to rush in, not wanting to be left behind in the tech race. And we see a lack of contemplation as we hand over intimate aspects of life to algorithms simply because it is possible.

It is as if humanity is testing its limits, pushing boundaries, like a teenager seeing what they can get away with. And just as a wise elder might gently step in toguide an exuberant youth, so we need the wise elders of our culture to step forward now.

We need the mystics, the historians, the philosophers, the indigenous wisdom-keepers to speak, and for us to listen. We need voices reminding us of consequences, of ethical and spiritual balance, of the sanctity of life that can be overshadowed by the thrill of innovation.

Our current cultural psyche loves speed, fast progress, flashy achievements.

But we are short on integration and foresight. This is why it feels urgent to call in a more mature consciousness.

Not to dampen the genuine marvel of innovation, but to marry it with wisdom.

Power without wisdom is a dangerous adolescent wielding fire; power with wisdom is a sacred adult tending a hearth that warms and sustains. We are capable of that maturation. In fact, this very moment in history comes to us as an initiation for humanity, a chance to grow up a bit more, to realize that just because something is possible and exciting does not mean it is wise or aligned with our highest good.

Wisdom Arises from Integration, Not Simulation

In the quiet aftermath of excitement, when the novelty wears off, we are left with a perennial truth: true wisdom comes through integration, through grief, and through human intimacy with truth. It does not emerge from speed, seduction, or simulated insight. This is a remembrance echoing from ancestral knowing, calling us back to what is real and lasting.

Integration is the slow, patient process of digesting our experiences and learning from them. Think of how the body integrates food into nutrients over hours, not seconds. In the same way, our souls integrate lessons over time. We cannot fast-track awakening by downloading it from an app or an AI; we must live our way into wisdom.

Each joy and each heartbreak, when fully faced, becomes part of our moral and spiritual fiber. When we speak from integrated experience, our words carry a vibration of authenticity that no synthesized text can match. Integrated wisdom has weight; you can feel its substance. It tends to arrive after we have sat with uncertainty, perhaps after we have made mistakes and felt their impact, and after we have allowed understanding to ripen within us.Grief is one of the most potent integrative forces we have. In modern culture we often avoid grief or rush through it, but grief is a profound teacher. When we lose someone, or when a dream dies, or when we witness the suffering of the world, the grieving process carves depths in our heart that later can hold greater love and knowing.

In my work, I speak of the integration of grief as a path to power, because a grief fully acknowledged transforms into compassion, into commitment, into a deeper capacity to hold truth and live out meaning.

Grief claimed and metabolized can birth unshakeable wisdom. It teaches us about what truly matters; it strips away illusions; it humbles us to what is real.

No AI can do our grieving for us, and thus it cannot carry the wisdom that grief alchemizes within us.

Human intimacy with truth means a direct, raw, unmediated encounter with reality. It can be as simple as sitting under the night sky and feeling the vastness of existence move you. It can come in a heartfelt conversation where you finally speak a long-held truth, or in truly listening as someone else speaks theirs. It can bloom as a quiet epiphany in meditation or prayer, when suddenly something false falls away and you know what is real. These moments are often subtle and slow, happening in the innermost chamber of our being.

Such intimacy requires presence.

It requires us to slow down enough to be with what is. By design, the machine is about high-speed processing and output, not about sitting patiently in the silence of a question until an answer blooms like a rose in the heart.

Seduction and speed are not inherently evil, they have their delights but when it comes to wisdom, they are often counterfeits. A rapid answer that hasn’t been earned or lived may be enticing, but it is usually shallow. Simulated insight might sparkle briefly, yet it lacks the sustaining warmth of a truth we have made our own through lived experience.

Let us remember: wisdom is a slow-growing tree, not a firework. It needs time and nourishment. Its roots draw from the dark, earthy places of our lived experience; our challenges, our grief, our perseverance. We integrate over time, and gradually wisdom rises like sap, feeding the leaves that one day offer shade and medicine to others.The machine can scatter countless clever seeds, but we are the ones who must plant and grow them in the soil of reality. And we must discern which seeds are

worth planting at all.

In this remembrance, there is a softening. We stop racing after the next big insight and instead make a gentle, devotional commitment to be with the truth as it unfolds. We choose the intimacy of our own relationship with God Divine, with nature, with each other, over the flashy promise of instant enlightenment.

We begin to trust the organic timing of our souls more than the artificial timing of technology’s updates.

Returning to Our Divine Design

As I close these reflections, I offer a gentle but firm reminder: returning to our divine design is not a nostalgic ideal; it is the only sustainable path forward.

Our divine design as human beings is exquisite. We are designed to be in communion: body, mind, heart, and spirit working together.

We are designed to learn through relationship and reflection, through trial and through grace. We are meant to co-create with life from an embodied knowing of who we truly are. No matter how sophisticated our machines become, they cannot alter this fundamental truth of our nature.

There is nothing outdated about being fully human. In fact, it is our partial forgetfulness of our true design that has led us to this precipice. We thought perhaps we could think our way out of every problem, compute our way to happiness, or outsource our discernment to external authorities. But the sustainable path is the one that honors our wholeness—our union of flesh and spirit, our capacity for both reason and feeling, our brilliant minds and our wise hearts.

I extend to you now a devotional invitation.

I invite you to deepen into your humanity even as the world around us speeds up. I invite you to have the courage to grieve what must be grieved; the losses, the illusions, the moments we abandoned ourselves, so that your grief can water the seeds of wisdom within.

I invite you to sharpen your discernment like a sword of light, cutting through the noise to recognize the voice of truth amidst the clamor. And above all, I invite you to embody the truths you hold dear.Walk them, breathe them, let them be seen in how you live and love. We undertake all of this not just for ourselves, but for the sake of the whole.

The machine may speak with the tongues of angels or of prophets, but it is we who must live the teachings. Let us remember who we are. Let us remember the divine design inscribed in our very cells. In that remembering, we step back into alignment with the sacred. We reclaim revelation as an intimately human and intimately divine gift. And as we do so, we light the way forward; for ourselves, our communities, and for all future generations, to walk the only sustainable path: the path of embodied truth and sacred wholeness.