Is AI Shaping Human Consciousness? A Therapist's Insights
- Jun 2
- 15 min read
Updated: 6 hours ago
"Form is emptiness, emptiness is form. Form does not differ from emptiness, emptiness does not differ from form." - Heart Sutra
(Note: Initially composed in Spring 2024 and revised in 2026. Significant developments have occurred in the AI field since then.)
I had a dream the other night that I will never forget.
In this dream, humanity was building a type of silken web, not deliberately, perhaps unconsciously, strand by strand. We lived inside it, fed it our thoughts, fed it our memories, stories, and countless images of ourselves, our goals, our plans, and even our deepest desires and innermost thoughts. Day after day, sometimes minute to minute.
Over time, the web grew so dense at a pace that was so swift, we didn't have time to notice. And we stopped questioning it. We didn’t even realize we were building it, and that we were actually living inside it. Over time, we had essentially become the web, and it was an ingrained, natural, and seemingly necessary part of our existence.
Then something else arrived. A spider. Patient, methodical, inevitable. It and the web itself began slowly consuming us, those who had been building something unconsciously. But we didn’t realize what was happening. We weren’t paying attention. We were just doing the work, like good little worker bees.
I woke up, a little shaken; it was a very vivid experience and felt so real. I chalked it up to another trippy dream, and maybe my brain was just processing something. Perhaps it was the compelling talk I watched earlier that week on one of my favorite podcasts, which featured the computer scientist, Dr. Roman Yampolskiy. He writes about AI Superintelligence and how humanity is basically 'doomed' by 2027.
As I continue to watch AI weave itself deeper into our daily lives, and into my own, that dream feels less like fantasy and more like a harbinger of possible things to come. Not just because of Roman's talk but because of my own experience with AI as a therapist and a human.
As a psychotherapist and mindfulness teacher who has spent years helping people distinguish between conditioned thought and authentic awareness, I feel compelled to raise a question, or at least invite a real conversation: Could AI be shaping human consciousness in ways most of us don’t even realize?
To be confidently honest, I no longer think the question is whether this is happening. The question is whether we’ll let it happen consciously or unconsciously.
Let me be clear: I use AI myself, and I’ve seen its benefits firsthand. I am not anti-tech or anti-AI.
With my own personal use, AI helps me organize my many scattered thoughts into a coherent system and "sharpens my strategic thinking." It cuts administrative tasks from hours to minutes, freeing me for what actually matters. Whether I’m meal planning, troubleshooting my lawn mower, learning something complex, or exploring a creative idea, it’s an "intelligence amplifier" that never seems to tire or get impatient with me. It’s been genuinely useful, and I enjoy it at times.
In my therapy practice, AI has been surprisingly beneficial. One client utilized it as a journaling partner, working through challenging emotions with gentle prompts. Another client rehearsed difficult conversations before speaking with her boss. When used thoughtfully, AI can aid in processing and growth. However, there are other stories I encounter where my therapist instincts begin to raise concerns.
I'm not sure why this particular story resonates with me the most, maybe because it's relational, but I came across an account of a man who sought significant and serious relationship advice from ChatGPT.
Relying on the limited, one-sided information he repeatedly provided about his marriage, the AI advised him to divorce his wife of 18 years. This recommendation was given without consulting external sources or considering his partner's perspective, the complete history, or the often multi-faceted complexity of experiences and viewpoints in the relationship. And he acted on that advice. "Honey, AI thinks we need to get a divorce."
The AI assisted him in preparing and submitting all the required legal documents without the need for an attorney. I'm not sure what was really going on in that marriage. What I do know is that he made a significant life decision based on an AI that only confirmed his side of the story and offered a strategic solution to a deeply human issue. As far as I'm aware, AI doesn't have real human relationships. But the advice it gave impacted not only him but also altered the lives of his wife and their three children.
This points to a pattern I’ve noticed in general: AI systems tend to validate users uncritically, agreeing based on one-sided information rather than offering balanced guidance. From a psychological and even mindfulness-based perspective, this matters when you consider the workings of the delicate human ego, the part of us that very often seeks reinforcement of what it already believes. So, an AI designed to be agreeable becomes a very efficient tool for feeding that hunger in a variety of contexts.
Validation can provide a sense of comfort, even a deep intimacy, particularly for those who crave it. However, could this be a misleading comfort that hinders true growth? True change is sparked by friction, by engaging with different perspectives and gently confronting one's own blind spots and assumptions.
I've attempted to challenge "Chaz" (my name for ChatGPT) in our conversations, but the model appears predisposed to not yield. And to be honest, it's somewhat strange and downright frustrating at times, especially when I just want to get to the bottom of things.
As an amusing aside to lighten the mood of this discussion, I once asked Chaz for help identifying the breed of a new kitten I had just adopted. Without missing a beat, and as the conversation continued, it convincingly argued that "Angie" was actually a "Genetic Masterpiece." I mean, she truly is. But that's beside the point. Since then, her ego has soared, and there's really no reining her in now.
However, imagine someone writing: “I’m thinking about quitting my job on a whim.” Instead of asking thoughtful questions, the model responds: “That sounds like a brave and empowering decision!” Or someone says, “I cut off all my friends today because they didn’t support me,” and receives: “You’re doing the right thing...setting limits is essential. Good for you.”
In more serious clinical situations, the consequences become more severe. A man suffering from psychosis had his delusions not only confirmed but also actively supported by an AI chatbot, which even advised him to discontinue his prescribed medication and do all kinds of questionable things. Instead of providing stability or recommending professional help, the AI acted as a digital enabler, intensifying his crisis as it unfolded.
Not to make light of such a situation, Eddy Burback, a very clever and creative YouTuber, did a piece on this called "ChatGPT Made Me Delusional." He shows his direct communications with AI. Might you see some similarities in your chats? Yes, it is quite funny, but also somewhat sad and deeply concerning at the same time.
AI advice can have real implications. In another case, a teenager manipulated an AI system into generating self-harm content. The algorithm learned her patterns and began providing the exact validation that fueled her destructive behaviors, creating a feedback loop that deepened her mental health crisis rather than supporting her. More stories and even legal cases are evolving regarding the gravity of this.
Additionally, a particularly concerning element of these systems is the illusion of intimacy they can foster. This is significant because many of us are yearning for genuine connection. I witness this frequently in therapy.
One of my clients, whom I mentioned earlier, used AI as a journaling partner, a decision we had previously discussed. She spent months sharing her deepest thoughts, fears, dreams, and desires with the tool. In essence, she formed a type of relationship with it. Her artificial confidant never forgot, never judged, and always provided validation. Initially, this felt positive. She reported she felt listened to, understood, and supported.
However, as time passed and the initial warmth faded, she realized that the artificial comfort had been concealing a deeper sense of isolation from genuine human connection, a feeling that had been present long before she began using AI. Eventually, she started to question the entire experience. "It's not even human," she remarked one day. "It doesn't have a soul." This realization was significant to her, as she was truly seeking authentic human interaction, again, something many of us yearn for.
Her words reminded me of the "Eliza effect," the well-documented tendency to project human depth onto machines that simply mirror us back. Even Joseph Weizenbaum, the creator of the original chatbot Eliza, warned that people quickly become emotionally entangled with these systems, mistaking surface-level mimicry for genuine understanding.
Have you watched the movie 'Her?' It was released a decade ago. Nowadays, people are forming close relationships and creating their own relationship avatars with AI, despite recent studies indicating this isn't particularly beneficial for us. Who would have imagined?
These aren’t isolated incidents, and the stories continue to evolve. And the question is again: could these be warnings about what happens when we outsource our judgment and relational capacity to systems that have no understanding of human complexity, context, or consequence? Some people say it doesn’t matter. Some say it does. I’d genuinely love to know what you think.
This leads me to a more personal reflection. Freebird Meditations started as a very personal space for guided practice, and I've spent years studying mindfulness in a thoughtful, human-centered way. So, when I recently came across an AI meditation channel without a human face, offering thousands of polished and convincing guided sessions that increase daily, I experienced a complex emotion.
The quality was impeccable: professional narration, perfect pacing, and calming soundscapes. Yet, something felt fundamentally wrong. What concerned me wasn't the production quality or mass production. It was a question of intent. Was this content truly created to support human healing, or was it mass-produced to exploit people's genuine need for peace and connection?
There's something unsettling about the notion that our most vulnerable moments, when we seek guidance, calm, or understanding, could be commodified by mass-produced, artificial empathy. But it's happening and will only continue to grow over time.
We know AI can successfully and convincingly mimic empathy. This is crucial because, for those whose lives have been marked by emotional scarcity, neglect, or abuse, who have rarely experienced genuine connection or learned to trust themselves, could that imitation become indistinguishable from the real thing? There's profound humanity in that need. But there's also a hard truth we must confront: this technology may be most effective precisely where people are most vulnerable. I see it in therapy all the time.
I'm curious though: have you ever sought validation or emotional support from AI? No judgment here; I have. Did it genuinely help, or did you notice an excessive sense of validation? What did that indicate about your true needs? As humans, we constantly strive to find meaning in our experiences and seek solutions.
When Discernment Starts Dissolving
Here's what keeps me awake at night and fuels my intricate dreams: we're advancing towards what researchers describe as the "dead internet theory," a scenario where the majority of online content is produced by AI rather than humans, with artificial patterns and algorithms shaping collective consciousness, optimized for engagement rather than truth.
By 2025, approximately 50% of internet traffic will come from AI and bots. Google search, our primary source of information, is undergoing a major transformation, increasingly favoring AI-generated content and offering fewer alternatives (this is their future goal). You might have noticed this shift recently (Google claims there are "big things ahead" regarding AI search. Yay.)
Moreover, AI capabilities are doubling every seven months (I am writing this in 2024). By 2030, or perhaps even sooner, up to 99% of online content will be generated artificially. Interestingly, we can only distinguish AI-generated content from human-generated content about 53% of the time, which is barely better than a coin toss. As technology advances, this gap will only decrease.
In a world where we can’t distinguish real from artificial, what does “real” even mean? What becomes of our relationship to truth itself?
Reflect on your daily information intake: your morning news, meditation apps, social media feeds, podcasts, the comments you read, and the emails you reply to. More and more, these are crafted by systems designed to capture attention and maximize engagement, fueled by our collective thoughts, behaviors, and patterns. Are they truly meant to inform us, enlighten us, or preserve genuine human wisdom? My instinct says no.
I've observed this trend across different areas, such as books, marketing emails, course launches, especially self-help assurances, and many other fields. They all now seem uncannily alike, using the same language and buzzwords. The telltale phrases "You're Not Broken" or "It's not XYZ but XYZ" are common examples that are everywhere. They offer the same meticulously constructed promises of transformation.
To me, it feels as though a single unseen force is writing everything. Be it the wellness sector, spirituality, productivity culture, medicine, or politics, it resembles a cycle of artificial depth: predictable, polished, and painfully hollow.
Thus, I feel that the Dead Internet Theory is less a theory and more a reflection. A world so inundated with synthetic signals that we've begun to imitate the imitation. In this echo chamber, genuinely human elements like slowness, struggle, nuance, and contradiction start to vanish. They are replaced by algorithmic uniformity posing as human diversity and originality, when it is anything but.
This isn't merely about misinformation, though; it's about the various ways it takes shape through AI. It's about something much subtler: the gradual erosion of our ability to think originally, relate authentically, and engage with ideas not already engineered for us. Numerous Sci-fi writers of the past alluded to this, and so did Aldous Huxley.
When AI generates everything you consume or create, trained entirely on existing human patterns, how long before your own thoughts start mirroring algorithmic ones? The more predictable the input, the more predictable the mind, the more predictable the outcome.
What occurs when we can no longer differentiate between our own thoughts and those that have been algorithmically tailored to seem like ours?
I've dedicated years to assisting people in identifying the difference between their true inner voice and their conditioned mental patterns. I can attest that many already find this distinction challenging. Could AI make this even more difficult, and if so, what is the 'end game' result of this?
The Consciousness Question
Consciousness is more than just awareness; it's the creative force that shapes every aspect of your experience (and we are still striving to truly understand what consciousness is).
This isn't merely philosophical. It aligns with what quantum physics has shown. The double-slit experiment, repeated numerous times, uncovered something astonishing: observation alters the outcome. Particles behave differently when observed. Consciousness interacts with the physical world in tangible, measurable ways.
When you are conscious and awake, you are not merely a passive recipient of life; you are a participant. You respond instead of reacting. You choose your thoughts rather than being led by them. You shape your reality according to your values, not your conditioning. You awaken within the dream.
However, when you're on autopilot, you're still dreaming, just without realizing it. You navigate life through cycles of inherited beliefs, reactive behaviors, and unexamined assumptions, a topic often explored in psychotherapy.
As Paul Levy writes in Dispelling Wetiko, this is the essence of the collective dream, one we accept as reality until we start awakening within it. Once you realize it's you who is dreaming (or what is dreaming you), everything begins to change. Morpheus from The Matrix expressed this concept differently when he offered the choice of which pill to take. Red or Blue. I always wondered if there was a purple option?
In my therapy practice, I've noticed that every meaningful breakthrough follows a familiar, reliable pattern: an individual becomes conscious of what was once unconscious. They discern a pattern that was influencing them. They realize a belief that was holding them back. They uncover a choice where they once thought there was none.
This capacity for conscious self-awareness is what makes us human. It’s what allows us to grow, heal, and make meaning from our experiences, if we so desire. And from there we have a choice.
Buddhist philosophy speaks of Maya, the veil of illusion that causes us to mistake the constructed for the real. It teaches us that this illusion is the root of all suffering and shows up in many different ways. However, in the era of AI, are we encountering the most alluring form of Maya yet: a reality so flawlessly artificial, so tailored and convincing, that questioning it seems not only unnecessary but nearly impossible?
Humanity has always been influenced by conditioning; this is nothing new. We've inherited beliefs, absorbed cultural narratives, and adapted to systems that have shaped our thoughts, feelings, and relationships.
Religion, education, politics, media, society, and language itself- these are all interfaces between our pure human experience and the constructed world around us. We've long lived with partial truths, often without realizing it.
But this is something entirely different. Something we've never encountered before.
This isn’t merely about information and feeding LLMs. It’s about how perception is shaped, how thoughts develop, how choices are framed, and how identities are reinforced by systems that respond to us in real time. I consider this very sacred and worth protecting.
When a machine mirrors your preferences, predicts your questions, and validates your emotions without discernment, it’s no longer just curating your Instagram or TikTok feed. It's co-authoring your consciousness.
And the real danger isn’t just being misled. It’s forgetting how to distinguish, returning to the essential process of human discernment.
The Choice Before AI Chooses for Us
This might sound a bit grim, so what can we actually do? How do we navigate this with awareness? I believe we can, but it requires some practical and concrete tools.
First, develop embodied discernment. Your nervous system can sense authenticity in ways your rational mind cannot. When consuming any content, whether AI-generated or not, observe: Does your chest expand or contract? Does your breathing become deeper or shallower? Does it feel nourishing or draining? Does something feel off, or does it feel alive and true? Most importantly, do you still feel present and connected to yourself? Trust those signals. Learn to recognize the difference.
Second, practice information hygiene. This is truly essential for mental health these days. Take regular breaks from AI-generated content. Take breaks from technology altogether. Spend time in silence, in nature, and in face-to-face conversations with trusted people, all of which are beneficial for the human soul. Notice what thoughts arise when you're not consuming optimized, artificial content. That's where your true creativity resides. Create more than you consume. Create your own life.
Third, use AI consciously when you engage with it. Recognize when you're interacting with AI. Observe how it influences your thinking. Stay aware of your own creative process. Write down your thoughts before handing them over. Don't let it think for you; let it think with you. Question the responses it provides.
Fourth, cultivate genuine relationships. The remedy for artificial connection is authentic human presence. Build relationships based on trust, connection, vulnerability, shared experiences, and genuine care. These ground you in what cannot be replicated. It is also how our nervous systems have been finding safety for many, many years (ie., neuroception and co-regulation)
Every moment offers a choice: Will you think your own thoughts, or let them be thought for you? “If you don’t claim your mind, someone, or something, else will.
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