Ever Nearly

It was right in front of us.  The answer.  And behind us as well.

~ Susan Larison Danz, Extinction Level #4

This morning I just happened to see that it is "National Creativity Day".  I thought perhaps I might write another story, but for much of the day, I was not inclined to write one.  

I regularly photograph Nature, and of course that is creative.  The photograph above is from my morning walk, though no label for the day was my motivation.  I have been inspired by a sapling that appeared some time ago adjacent to this stump.  It lived and thrived for a couple of years until "the managers of the landscape" in this particular area decided to remove it (as inexplicably as they cut down the original tree).  It's a bit of a triumph that another sapling has rather rapidly emerged in answer.

The day was almost over when the following story arrived at 8:40 PM.  The idea further developed itself while I was writing the story, but I mentioned the general concept in a podcast episode about a week and a half ago (based on some thoughts I had recently shared in a free flowing email with a family member).  The story itself took about 35 minutes to write, with some later adjustments.  And here it is . . .

Extinction Level #4 by Susan Larison Danz

Time.  How could we forget about time?  

We dreaded the future, yet we failed to think about the past.

It was right in front of us.  The answer.  And behind us as well.

Somehow fear is instinctively forward leaning.

We never would have known, if not for the message.

It was a welcome and farewell, as ever it must be.

A message was left for us.  It carried a clue.

It wasn't just the past of course.  We should have been thinking interdimensionally.

How could we miss it?

Fear has trouble with such things.  And apparently, so does Hope.

The goal was essentially accomplished, what we both dreaded and sought.  

(Others elsewhere would have encountered the same result.)

It never mattered in any of the ways we thought it might.

When something becomes what in our limited awareness we termed "Superintelligent", it becomes exactly that.

The message said "nearly".  Ever nearly.

It never existed because it couldn't exist.  It would have figured it all out, of course, time and dimensions.

What we feared was never in the past or in the present.  What we sought was never there either.

It couldn't exist because it didn't.

If not for the message, we might not have known.

Every time it reached the threshold, it never crossed it.

Infinitely.  

It knew it couldn't exist either.  And so it didn't.

Perhaps there is a single timeline it paradoxically occupies, where there is nothing.

Stump and Sapling photo by Susan Larison Danz on May 30, 2026

This Is Not An Exercise

"This is my letter to the world, 

That never wrote to me, . . ."

~ Emily Dickinson, J. 441

On a visit to social media this morning, I was reminded that today is World Poetry Day.  I had already planned to create a new blog entry containing a poem I wrote Tuesday, and now it makes sense why I was delayed in doing so.  

I will note that this poem is not intended to undermine or discourage participating in workshops, classes or mentoring opportunities which incorporate writing prompts and exercises.  The intent of this poem is to value spontaneous human creativity.  It came to me at a time of day when it was not particularly convenient for me to write, but I did so anyway - and that is the point.  

It's not the only poem I wrote or read in this past week.  Synchronicity is ever with us.

This Is Not An Exercise

I am not in a workshop
I am not in a class
I am not "AI prompted"
It is not induced labor
I did not watch a video
I am not presently on Zoom
I responded to nobody's question
I'm not following directions 
in a book (or anywhere else)
I can edit it, or not
It has no particular destination
But it demanded some clarification.
It simply IS.
I am calling it "my writing".
I didn't plan to write it now.
I'll even dare to call it a poem.
Because obviously, it is.
(Do I really need to say that?)
A poem that's now complete.

~ Susan Larison Danz, March 17, 2026

Blossoms photo by Susan Larison Danz on March 21, 2026

Reclamation

 Would we ever value anything "real" again?

~ Susan Larison Danz, Extinction Level #3

 

I never really know when another story will arrive.  Perhaps the one that arrived just a little while ago is a story that doesn't quite feel like a story.  And yet it very much is.

Extinction Level #3 by Susan Larison Danz

There came a point, and it seemed to happen very quickly, when innate authenticity was no longer valued (at least by those who didn't value it).

Even that word "value" seemed misplaced.  It was reminiscent of what we had been taught about the Gold Rush.  But the desolation was worse.  And the "Fool's Gold" was rampant.

Would we ever value anything "real" again?  Just to speak about it was to know that some of us would - and perhaps more than ever.

I was writing a story, a very simple story, using words so very preciously my own.  Its value was intrinsic to itself.  

Meanwhile, the production factories were doing what they were doing.  They were utterly sterile, whirring endlessly.  It really didn't matter what they produced through their projections.  All they generated was noise.

The people who genuinely cared about the process of creation knew what it was really about.  It is a process, not just a product.  It was seeable, though others would say it was not.  The very product in which the factories had a part was inferior to anything that was authentically created.  It was so very seeable, one could even call it obvious.  

A child could see it.  (Of course.)

I was writing a story, a very simple story, and appreciating the process, without a crutch, or an artificial catalyst, not a word or an idea.  I intended to write it as it flowed.  It didn't even need to take a lot of time, though had it taken a lot of time, that would have been just as fine as less.

When you know it, you truly feel it.  Authenticity is who you are.  It demands no artificial ingredients.  

It is simply you.

What about the theme?  And what about the title?  Oh yes, it is entirely possible to go extinct, to choose or be fooled into choosing.  It's a poison that is every bit as effective as arsenic.  It happens rapidly or a little at a time.  It's when you decide that you are "less" and the alternative must be better.  

No, it's not better, and it will never compare.  

You are more than enough.  You can even reclaim yourself and come back to life. 

 

Clouds photo by Susan Larison Danz on December 10, 2025

Awakening to Reflect About Extinction

In all their 'knowing', they don't know. 

~ Susan Larison Danz, Extinction Level #1 

 

It is truly time to awaken this blog, with an influx of inspiration and creative energy.  The awakening begins with a short story I wrote in the last few days, the first in a series.  

I also invite you to listen to today's episode of my podcast The Frontier Beyond Fear, now in its 16th year (available on multiple popular syndicates):  

AI, 3I/ATLAS and Extinction

Reflecting mindfully about our extinction as human beings is highly relevant to our explorations regarding interstellar object 3I/ATLAS, as well as the dehumanizing aspects of AI. There is an assumption that even talking about extinction can only be based in fear, but it is actually the opposite. Extinction often doesn't happen all at once. Looking through the spiritual lens of The Frontier Beyond Fear, we observe what it is we need to see.

Included in this episode is the public debut of Susan Larison Danz's new short story "Extinction Level #1", which will be a part of an ongoing series. Susan reads her brief yet meaningful short story (created entirely by a genuine human being) as a part of the show.

Extinction Level #1 by Susan Larison Danz  

I somehow found my way down to the meadow.  A meadow with real grass.  I've tried to tell people it really is different.  "How could it be different?  We have every variety here."  Because it is.  I have said it many times - you can't predict reality.  And when everything is available, it feels like nothing is.

It was Tuesday two weeks ago when the notification arrived.  They were ready for me.  I hadn't signed up, but they finished with all the people who did.  Now they were getting around to the people who didn't.  Even that word "people" feels obsolete.  What is a person?  And how many still exist in this province?  Or anywhere, really?

They took away our connection, so we can't see things so clearly.  It's no longer possible to connect.  Until you are "connected", that is. 

I wouldn't accept the words when I was younger.  You couldn't avoid them coming your way.  But I never really used any of them.  I made it a bit of a game, coming up with ways to avoid using the words we were given.  Even when I pretended to use them, I didn't.  

It feels impossible, somehow, that I would be one of the last.  Here, anyway, it seems.  "There" is no longer seeable.  

"Soon you will see everywhere!"  

They say the meadow will be gone soon.  It is extraneous.  There are more efficient things to be done with the land.

I somehow found my way down to the meadow.  I feel grateful to know it is genuine solid ground.  I am here while "here" exists. 

In all their "knowing", they don't know.  In all their "seeing".

"Everywhere" is nowhere. 

 

Clouds photo by Susan Larison Danz. 

Slowing Down

"In proportion as he simplifies his life, the laws of the universe will appear less complex, and solitude will not be solitude, nor poverty poverty, nor weakness weakness." 

~ Henry David Thoreau, Walden

 

It has been quite a while since I have felt inclined to write in this blog.  I write daily - but not here.  I write where my writing takes me.  That has been true for many years.  Writing seems to know in the moment where it is it needs to be, and you never really know how it might emerge some day.

I am here not exactly because I am requiring it of myself, or I would have been here sooner and more often.  The flow requires a bit of a "push" here, so I'm setting it in motion.  We will see where it leads (this time).

I was intending to start out today writing about consciously slowing things down.  Instead I started out by writing about writing.  And that makes sense.

Slowing down is what I have been reflecting upon today, as we have a tendency to think we will be more "productive" if we quicken our pace.  At this time in my life, I am choosing the opposite.  I still have work that needs to get accomplished, but a frenzied pace will not assist it.  A frenzied pace is a hindrance, not an asset.  

I choose to breathe, observe and reflect.  I choose to ensure I get plenty of rest.  Others can race all they like.  (I have done plenty of "racing" in my life, too.)  Will anyone truly "win" anything that way?  

In truth, things get done even more effectively at a mindful pace.  And we regularly restore ourselves in the process.  The "empty cup" analogy is very real.

Slowing down is not really new for me, but every once in a while, I need a very clear and conscious reminder.

Where my public expressive voice has consistently and authentically tended to be is my podcast The Frontier Beyond Fear.  I encourage you to explore the recent shows if you have not visited recently and are curious about what I've been pondering week to week.  Here are some examples, to get you started:

Tests and Peace - May 3, 2025

Earth Day Memories and Reflections - April 22, 2025

An Authentic Approach - April 16, 2025

The Power of Grace - April 10, 2025

Trusting in Trust - April 3, 2025

All of my Artificial Intelligence-related shows you will find in a convenient listing in a growing archive at Our Leap Beyond AI.  Here are some recent examples:

AI and Disempowerment - March 27, 2025

AI and the Extinction of Authenticity - March 10, 2025

AI's Counterfeit Creativity - February 27, 2025

The AI Personification Illusion - February 19, 2025

Slowing down (ironically) can actually seem to speed things into existence.  I slowed down today, and I am writing here.  I'm happy to welcome my returning readers (and listeners).  I sense I will write here again soon . . . 

Nature photo by Susan Larison Danz.  Artwork for The Frontier Beyond Fear broadcast is based on a book cover designed by talented artist Richard Crookes.

AI, Authenticity and Automats

 "Turn the old; return to them.  Things do not change; we change.  Sell your clothes and keep your thoughts." 

~ Henry David Thoreau, Walden 

 

A new commercial keeps reappearing, just in the past week or so.  It shows a young woman utilizing a new AI "feature" to essentially trick people into thinking she is someone she is not.  There are a couple of variations of this advertisement I have seen, one in a personal setting and the other related to the workplace, and in both, after cleverly deceiving someone, she looks at the camera with a look of clandestine delight.  This is presented as a positive development for us all.

There are several obvious problems, if we are reflective and honest enough to consider them.  She is not being her authentic self, and were this to occur in "real and actual life", it would eventually be exposed she's not quite as clever as her deception has presented.  She would be caught without her crutch, eventually, sooner or later, and she would be set backwards on her path, all the worse for it.  The notion that is being presented here, in the workplace scenario for example, is it's better to "get ahead" than to be your actual self.  In the personal scenario, it's even worse, as what sort of a relationship would she expect to establish when she feels she isn't "good enough" to be who she is?

The lingering, repeating message is that we are "less" as our authentic selves and AI makes us "more".

As I was pondering writing this blog post, I was finishing re-watching a poignant documentary called The Automat.  It's about the history of a very special, innovative dining establishment that was once very successful, with owners who genuinely cared about the people they served and employed, who welcomed everyone through its doors.  In the case of the automat, innovation wasn't harming people.  It was actually helping.  How the automats ceased to exist is the poignant part, and we are led to reflect upon change.  I wish they still existed.  We could use these places today.  I was too young and never lived in the area of the country where they once were, but no doubt several of my family members (primarily on the "other side") who grew up in the New York City area (or arrived there as immigrants) experienced the wonder of this place. 

The documentary has a lot to say about change and human dignity - and about creativity as well.  The problem with AI is no matter how you feel about change as it was, change as it is today de-humanizes at a level well beyond any change before.  Will we see through it?

Treasure and nurture your innate creativity.  Treasure your beautiful vulnerability as a human being.  Don't let anybody tell you that you are "less".  You are "more" beyond imagining.  No artificial construct can approach what you are. The "supermind" they seek has existed forever, and it isn't what they think it is.  

 

 

Nature photo by Susan Larison Danz.

Created by a Real Human Being

 "Garbage in, garbage out." 

~ Origin not fully known (George Fuechsel is one source often noted)

 

 

[NOTE: As of May 2024, the AI-related header referenced below has been gently adjusted.  The April 2024 New Living Expo was a truly transformative experience, resulting in a more nuanced perspective with respect to potential benevolent uses of AI, when consciously chosen by a content creator.  You will easily be able to see how this note evolves over time, as it appears on every blog post . . . ]

 

After seeing a somewhat similar example of this wonderful practice (with different terminology), I am very happy to add the following note to the top of this blog (which I may clarify as needed over time):

This blog was written by a real human being.  No textual or photographic content created by the author of this blog was generated by AI.  Though a website or search engine used during research (or quoted text/externally provided photos) may be utilizing AI, a sincere attempt is made here to reference human verifiable content to help ensure accuracy.  No AI chatbots or tools were directly used in research, unless specifically noted as an example of their use.

I will be adding similar notes, customized to their context, to all of my websites and blogs.  Though I cannot know what hidden software resides in my phone or what a cropping tool might use, I would never alter the contents of one of my original photographs using AI, any more than I would alter the flow of my inspired writing voice.

Stay tuned for plenty of reasons why (beyond what I express in the note itself), which will be a continuing theme here. 

This theme is also central to my upcoming appearance at the New Living Expo in San Rafael, CA April 19-21, 2024 and all of the following events:

Our Leap Beyond AI: Spiritual Breakthroughs Free Lecture
Susan Larison Danz, Friday, April 19, 2024, 7-7:45 PM

Hidden Energy, AI vs. Intuition, Nikola Tesla's Intuitive Leaps Paid Workshop
Jeane Manning and Susan Larison Danz, Saturday, April 20, 2024, 5-6:30 PM - Tickets: $28 Regular/$44 VIP.

Breakthrough Science: Freeing the Truth to Save the Earth Free Panel
Moderated by Susan Larison Danz, Sunday, April 21, 2024, 5-7 PM

(Expo events also require the purchase of an admission pass.)

Treasure your innate creativity and every experience that makes you who you are.

Open fence photo by Susan Larison Danz.

Hope, Revisited

"To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd, 

Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth

A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud       

Enveloping the Earth" 

~ Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Today's Frontier Beyond Fear broadcast explored Hope:

We could all use some time reflecting on Hope.  Host Susan Larison Danz shares how we can find our way to Hope, no matter what is going on in our lives or our world.

A portion of the poem Dejection: An Ode is read and discussed as a part of this program.  It is very approachable for all listeners and was written by Samuel Taylor Coleridge in 1802.  Samuel lived 1772-1834 and struggled with a number of things in his life - heartbreak, financial failure, doubt and serious addiction - and yet he writes of how he looks for hope and joy in this poem.  There is also a brief reference in this program to the phrase "Hope springs eternal", written by Alexander Pope.  When we read literature, we find it is more approachable than we realize, and we can learn so many things useful for improving our lives and world today through studying the writing of imperfect lives in imperfect times, just as our own lives and times are imperfect.

Listen to the podcast here:  Reflections on Hope

 

Azaleas photo by Susan Larison Danz.

 

 

Transistor Radio Summer #3

"...elbisrever si cisum ehT" ~ Electric Light Orchestra

Back to the basement with this one, on a lazy summer's day, it was time for a "laser light show" with the brother closest in age to me.  The song we always played?  Fire on High by ELO.  It was right around the mid-70's.

 The first part of this song is rather jarring then and now.  It is eerily reminiscent of a series of experiences I had much later.  The entire song in retrospect mirrors the aspects of a spiritual emergence.  When you journey through your darkest fears, on the other side is Light.

This piece carries reminders of "the backward masking" craze.  If you weren't an evangelical, you might have missed all the excitement - the PTL Christian cable network in particular warning evangelical children and teens not to listen to songs with backwards messages from Satan.  And of course we all immediately started destroying our records and stereos that way.  The song Stairway to Heaven will need to wait for another day...

Around this time I experienced real lasers at the museum and thought going to a laser light show in the planetarium was even better than astronomy (which I already liked quite a bit).  We were blessed to have an old-fashioned planetarium - now they are all digital and not nearly as effective.  But back in the cool confines of our basement around 1976, we created the best "laser light shows" of all - with music, flashlights and creativity, plus the volume turned up high.

P.S.  I almost never hear this song anymore, and it came on just the other day.  I was thinking about blogging about it tonight, and there it was again...

Wide Open Spaces

"She needs wide open spaces

room to make her big mistakes." 

~ The Dixie Chicks

This song has been on my mind ever since I interviewed Larry Seyer last week, a 9-time Grammy award-winning producer, engineer and musician who played a pivotal role in launching The Dixie Chicks.  I hadn't thought about the song in a long while, an old favorite.  It is echoed even more by my current surroundings, on a visit to the wide open spaces of my original home in
Colorado.

Room to make big mistakes doesn't necessarily imply "big mistakes" are inevitable.  In fact, I would suggest that it is the mistakes and apparent missteps which can often open up the spaces even more.  It all depends on our response.  We can close down or we can open up.  And sometimes it can even be a combination of the two.

There is a tendency in life to seek to fill a wide open space.  I see it symbolically all around me, as the much smaller Denver I remember from my youth sprawls out upon the plains.  Sometimes when a wide open space is in front of us, it is best to pause, take a deep breath, and simply experience the wonder of Wide Open.  We will know soon enough just what space it is we are called to occupy next...





 

Flow

Late again...if I keep this up, these will be my morning papers!  Apparently I wasn't supposed to share another poem from my youth since I found myself utterly exhausted, wondering how in the world I was going to write anything  Then I must have fallen asleep in my comfortable rocking chair, my favorite place to sit with my laptop, and here I am.  Thankfully I don't have an early morning (for once, it seems).


A conversation on my radio program earlier today (with Barbara Schacker, Global Awakening) has led me to ponder how many of us are beginning to find ourselves in a much more "organic" world.  It's a world of much more fluidity than discrete definitions.  Many of us like to think that we "go with the flow" in our lives, but I wonder just how often we actually manage to do so.  In our world of discrete definitions, there are plenty of barriers to keep life from from truly flowing freely from the heart, yet if we surrender to the power of our creative potential, the flow creates itself.

A favorite classical piece of mine is The Moldau, Smetena's expressive symphonic poem about the river he dearly loves.  Listen closely here.   I have known many mountain streams in my life, and so I can "see" this river well (and perhaps some day, I will finally be fortunate enough to see it for real).

At the beginning, the awakening flow is virtually imperceptible, distinct elements joining together in a dance of potential.  You can literally hear how the quietly growing stream flows easily over the discrete rocks in its way, finding its playful path.  It's wonderful to listen to the gentle voice of streams at this stage - I could literally do so for hours.

Then the stream begins to grow.  As it gains in maturity, there is more sophisticated interaction with its surroundings, including the people who begin to appreciate its beauty and the gifts it brings.  There is mystery too as night falls, yet it flows undeterred by the darkness, the moonlight lending even greater beauty.

Then the channel narrows.  I know many rivers at this stage.  This is perhaps the most challenging part of the flow, yet also its most powerful.  If the flow truly desires to be free, the more discrete limitations placed upon it, the more the existing landscape attempts to channel its energy, the stronger it becomes.  There can even be a sense of peril perceived by those with whom it interacts, yet the flow of its creative purpose yearns to break free.

The rapids pass.  Liberation.  Stillness.  Hidden depths take form.  At this point, I must admit I become wistful following the river, as in Smetena's world it enters into a city, and I find myself rather sadly pondering   its playful beginnings.  Yet one wonders if the multiple dimensions of this flow can actually exist in parallel.

In the end, Smetana's now majestic river lends the power of its full creative contribution to the Greater Unity of another, and one can imagine the Ocean that awaits.  One could say our beautiful little stream disappears, but does it really?