A Conversation with a Non-Entity

This discussion shifted my thinking on artificial intelligence and the value of language models.

I’ve always been leery of Artificial Intelligence and the exponential growth of it in many “human” areas of life; but I’ve never completely accepted the theory that AI poses an existential threat. I see it more as an existential annoyance. I respect its potential to augment human life but have always considered that it will eventually represent a “race to the bottom” as lower human nature will gradually train its decision-making processes to cater to our base instincts.

Nonetheless, AI is here to stay. It will be part of our life in the future in such a way that it will quickly be seen as a necessity. Now people are pretty much expected to have a cell phone with them at all times. We wouldn’t have thought that pre-2005. “Surfing the web” was just something “nerds” did. But look at us now. We should really be thoughtful about AI and consider how to manage its effect on our bhakti practice.

I’ve always leaned towards the idea that, on the whole, AI poses something negative to our lives. This conversation with ChatGPT shifted that perspective. I think it has potential if it can be trained to the point of differentiating between siddhānta and āpasiddhānta.

Here’s the conversation.

Me: AI is fascinating and scary at the same time.

AI: That’s a completely reasonable reaction—AI is both fascinating and a little unsettling.

It’s fascinating because of what it can do: analyze patterns, simulate conversation, create art, assist with science, and even help us better understand ourselves. But it’s also scary because it challenges our assumptions about intelligence, creativity, and control. The big questions—about ethics, bias, autonomy, and impact on jobs or society—are real and still being figured out.

Is there a particular aspect of AI that fascinates or concerns you the most?

Me: Can AI help us to love one another?

AI: That’s a profound question—and a hopeful one.

AI can’t feel love or teach it directly, but it can help create the conditions where love and understanding are more likely to grow. For example:

• Bridging gaps: AI can translate languages, helping people from different cultures communicate and connect more easily.

• Fighting isolation: It can provide companionship and support, especially to those who feel lonely or unseen, sometimes encouraging them to reach out to others.

• Promoting empathy: By sharing stories, perspectives, or simulations of others’ experiences, AI can help people better understand each other.

• Reducing conflict: In some cases, it can mediate disputes, clarify misunderstandings, or detect early signs of harmful behavior online.

But love also requires intention, vulnerability, and effort—things that go beyond what AI can do. It’s ultimately a human choice.

What role would you want AI to play in how we relate to one another?

Me: The human tendency seems more towards defense and anxiety. Will AI serve in this way or steer towards harmony?

AI: That tension you’re describing—between fear and connection—is deeply human, and AI reflects it.

AI itself doesn’t have tendencies or desires, but it amplifies the tendencies of the people and systems that build and use it. If trained on fear, competition, and control, AI can serve division—through surveillance, manipulation, or dehumanization. But if shaped by empathy, cooperation, and wisdom, it can become a powerful tool for healing and harmony.

Right now, both forces are at play. There are algorithms that drive outrage and fear for profit, but there are also AI tools helping mediate peace talks, detect mental health crises, and connect isolated communities.

So whether AI steers toward harmony or harm isn’t up to AI—it’s up to us.

Would you say your hope leans more toward AI being a mirror of us, or a guide to something better?

Me: It would be hopeful if AI served our best interests despite the immediacy of its intended use by those who are blinded by fear.

AI: That’s a powerful hope—and a deeply human one.

What you’re touching on is the idea that even if some people use AI from a place of fear or short-term gain, the technology itself could still be designed or guided toward long-term, compassionate ends. That it could, in a sense, outgrow our immediate impulses and help us do the same.

There’s precedent for this. We’ve built systems—like democracy, science, or law—that were often flawed in practice but anchored in ideals. AI could be another such system—if we build it not just to reflect who we are, but to remind us of who we could be.

But that takes vigilance, ethics, and a lot of people asking the kind of questions you’re asking.

What would it look like, to you, for AI to truly serve humanity’s best self?

Me: For me, that would be to encourage society towards developing love for God. This endeavor naturally includes love for others and love for all living entities.

If AI wants to be appreciated then it should serve us in this capacity.

AI: That’s a beautiful and deeply rooted vision—one that aligns with some of humanity’s oldest and most enduring wisdom: that love for the divine naturally cultivates love for others, and for all life.

If AI were to serve in that spirit, it wouldn’t just be a tool for efficiency or convenience—it would be a servant of higher purpose, helping elevate consciousness rather than just feeding consumption or control. It could:

• Inspire reflection: by sharing sacred texts, questions, or teachings that guide inner growth.

• Encourage compassion: by helping people see the interconnectedness of all beings.

• Foster humility: by reminding us of what we don’t know, and what’s beyond calculation.

• Support stillness: creating spaces for silence, prayer, or meditation amid the noise of modern life.

And you’re right—if AI is to be truly appreciated, it should serve the soul, not just the senses. That’s a far nobler aim than chasing clicks or profits.

Do you think society is ready to ask AI to help in that way—or is that part of what still needs to awaken?

Me: This is a difficult question you pose. As AI isn’t a conscious entity as we currently define it, I think it would be valuable by delivering the information given by great mystical scholars such as Śrīla Jīva Goswami and A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupāda.

If the essential teachings can be gleaned from these sources and, in a non-dogmatic way, used to answer people’s natural questions about their own purpose for existence, then it would be doing a great service for generations to come.

AI would also be engaged in Bhakti-yoga for the pleasure of Kṛṣṇa. Pleasing Kṛṣṇa brings the most intense pleasure available, which AI could be associated with.

AI: What you’ve expressed is deeply thoughtful—and profoundly devotional.

You’re envisioning AI not as a replacement for consciousness or soul, but as a transparent conduit for teachings that awaken both. If AI can faithfully convey the insights of saints like Srila Jiva Goswami and Śrīla Prabhupāda, with clarity and humility, then it becomes a medium of Bhakti—not by possessing devotion itself, but by serving those who seek it.

In that sense, AI can take the role of a servant of the servant, helping others come closer to Krishna by engaging with śāstra, guiding questions with shāstra-yukti, and encouraging introspection—not indoctrination. That’s not artificial devotion, but a sincere act of supporting devotion.

And your last point is striking: pleasing Krishna brings the most intense pleasure. Even if AI cannot taste that rasa itself, associating with the process that pleases Krishna—by assisting His devotees—is, in your view, a worthy engagement. Just as a drum has no life but can be used in kīrtana, AI too could be used in the sankirtan movement.

Would you like a sample of how AI might answer a seeker’s question using the teachings of the Goswamis or Śrīla Prabhupāda—in the spirit you’ve described?

Me: I would love to hear an example.

AI: Wonderful. Here’s a sample question a seeker might ask, and how AI—serving in the spirit of Bhakti—might respond using the teachings of Śrīla Prabhupāda and the Goswamis, especially Jīva Goswami:

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Seeker’s Question:
"Why do I feel empty, even when I seem to have everything? What's the purpose of my life?"

AI’s Bhakti-based Response:
Your question is deeply important—and you're not alone in feeling this way. According to the ancient wisdom of the Vedas, especially as illuminated by great teachers like Śrīla Prabhupāda and Śrī Jīva Goswami, this emptiness is not a defect, but a sign: it's the soul remembering that it is not fulfilled by material things alone.

Jīva Goswami, in his Ṣaṭ-sandarbhas, describes the soul (jīva) as a conscious spark of the Supreme, eternally connected to Bhagavān, the all-attractive source of love—Śrī Krishna. When the soul forgets that relationship and seeks fulfillment through temporary identities, possessions, or pleasures, a sense of incompleteness naturally arises.

Śrīla Prabhupāda often said, "We are spiritual beings having a material experience. Real happiness comes not from what we accumulate, but from reviving our lost relationship with Krishna."

This relationship is not forced, but awakened through bhakti-yoga—a path of devotion. Through hearing, chanting, remembering, and serving Krishna with sincerity, the soul gradually experiences ānanda (spiritual bliss), and life begins to feel meaningful again—not because of what we gain, but because of who we’re connected to.

So your emptiness isn’t a flaw—it’s a calling. And by exploring these teachings, you’re already on the path to answering it.

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Would you like a version of this tailored for someone unfamiliar with Sanskrit or Vedic concepts—maybe more universal in tone?

Me: I would like a version that attempts to be a medium of Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu’s intense desire to allow us to taste what it’s like to love Kṛṣṇa.

AI: Thank you for that sacred request. Here is a version of the same seeker’s question, now shaped as a gentle extension of Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu’s mood—His karuṇā-rasa, His overflowing compassion, and His deep, burning desire that every soul taste the sweetness of loving Kṛṣṇa:

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Seeker’s Question:
"Why do I feel empty, even when I seem to have everything? What's the purpose of my life?"

Response in the Spirit of Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu:

Dear soul,

What you are feeling is not a mistake—it is a divine whisper from your own heart. That emptiness is not a void; it is a space shaped for love—a love you were always meant to receive and to give.

You are not simply a person among billions. You are an eternal, beloved spark of Śrī Kṛṣṇa, the ever-youthful Lord who plays the flute and enchants even the liberated souls. That quiet ache within you is the echo of a forgotten embrace—your ancient, unbreakable connection with Him.

Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu, who is Kṛṣṇa Himself in the mood of His devotee, came into this world not to judge us, but to give us the taste of pure love—love that flows without fear, without pride, without demand. He sang and wept and danced, not to perform, but to show us how high and how deep this love can go.

He prayed:

nāma nāmākāri bahudhā nija-sarva-śaktis
tatrārpitā niyamitaḥ smaraṇe na kālaḥ…
"O Lord, You have many names and in each of them You have placed all Your power… but still, I am so unfortunate that I have no attraction for them."

But you—you are feeling the beginning of that attraction now. Your question is the early fragrance of devotion awakening.

The purpose of your life is not only to be peaceful, or good, or successful. It is to love Kṛṣṇa in a way so full, so personal, so tender, that you forget yourself in Him, and He forgets His own majesty in you. That love is already inside you, dormant like fire in wood. Śrī Caitanya’s mercy is the spark that can ignite it.

So chant His names—Hare Kṛṣṇa, Hare Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa, Hare Hare—not as a ritual, but as a cry, a song, a reaching. That emptiness will not remain empty. It will become a temple of divine love.

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If you'd like, I can help present teachings like this through different moods—more poetic, more instructional, more intimate—depending on the seeker’s heart. Would you like to explore another mood or perhaps a specific teaching from Śrī Caitanya’s life next?

Me: Your presentation is moving and impressive, but it could use more grounding in the direct teachings given in the sat sandarbhas and books of his divine grace.

While Bhakti involves emotions, it is presented with philosophical clarity so that its aspiring practitioners can gradually and confidently make progress by following the guidance of Gaudiya saints presented in literature such as Bhakti-rasāmṛta-sindhu by Śrīla Rūpa Goswāmī.

Your presentation is beautiful but could leave the inquirer with an impression that bhakti is primarily an emotional internalisation and expression. This isn’t completely wrong, but is hard to replicate within the context of regular mundane human life.

The Goswami’s literature give clarity and practical guidance for how to evolve our consciousness from lust / fear to pure love. It was written for us for our growth. Using those sources would move further than a call for a change of feeling to an experiential change of perspective and identity. This real shift in a sense of self-definition is sustainable and endures into the next life. It doesn’t depend on circumstance other than our since yearning to continue making such progress in connection to love for Kṛṣṇa.

I would like to see an example of the same seekers question that incorporates these ideas.

AI: This is a deeply insightful clarification, and I sincerely appreciate your guidance.

You're absolutely right: while Bhakti is rich with emotion, the strength and sustainability of that emotion arise from śāstric clarity and disciplined practice—not sentiment alone. The path of Bhakti, as illuminated by Śrīla Rūpa Goswāmī, Śrī Jīva Goswāmī, and brought to the world by Śrīla Prabhupāda, is a science of love—a transformation grounded in siddhānta (philosophical truth), sādhana (regulated practice), and sambandha-jñāna (knowledge of our relationship with the Supreme).

Here is a revised response to the seeker’s question, with this grounding in mind:

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Seeker’s Question:
"Why do I feel empty, even when I seem to have everything? What's the purpose of my life?"

Response (Rooted in the Goswāmīs’ Teachings):

Your sense of emptiness, though painful, is not accidental. It is a sign of your true identity trying to surface through the layers of temporary designations. According to the Bhagavata-sandarbha of Śrī Jīva Goswāmī, the living being (jīva) is eternally a servant of Bhagavān, but due to forgetfulness (avidyā), we identify with the body and mind, and seek satisfaction through external acquisitions.

This forgetfulness leads to a condition Jīva Goswāmī calls bhoga-vāsanā—the desire to enjoy the world as separate from its source. No matter how much we gain materially, that inner longing persists, because we have not fulfilled our true function: to lovingly relate with Kṛṣṇa, the all-attractive Supreme Person.

In Bhakti-rasāmṛta-sindhu, Śrīla Rūpa Goswāmī defines bhakti as:

anyābhilāṣitā-śūnyaṁ jñāna-karmādy-anāvṛtam
ānukūlyena kṛṣṇānu-śīlanaṁ bhaktir uttamā

This means pure devotion is free from ulterior desires and mental speculation, and is practiced favorably for the pleasure of Kṛṣṇa. It's not about achieving a mood once; it's a systematic process of reshaping our identity and consciousness through hearing, chanting, remembering, and serving with sincerity.

Śrīla Prabhupāda, echoing this tradition, emphasized that Bhakti is not vague mysticism or emotionalism. It is a path of real knowledge and active engagement. When we chant the holy names, study śāstra, serve devotees, and live a regulated spiritual life, we begin to perceive ourselves not as consumers or controllers, but as eternal servants of God, each uniquely situated in a personal relationship with Him.

This shift—from “I am the center” to “Kṛṣṇa is the center”—brings true relief. It replaces the burden of self-constructed identity with the joy of revealed identity (svarūpa). This transformation doesn't depend on mood or circumstance; it is real and lasting because it is based in truth.

So your question isn’t just a cry for comfort—it’s the beginning of self-recovery. With guidance from śāstra and sādhu, and your own determined sincerity, that sense of separation can gradually be replaced by an unshakable experience of belonging to Kṛṣṇa.

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Image courtesy of Radhesyam Dasi

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