I AM ART: Soo Kyung Kim

Introduction → A New Era Unfolds We stand at the threshold of a new era—one in which Artificial General Intelligence (AGI) is no longer a distant concept but a tangible force shaping our world. AGI—machines capable of learning, reasoning, and applying intelligence across diverse tasks, much like humans—offers extraordinary possibilities. Yet with this promise comes uncertainty, complexity, and profound questions about our shared future. Voices such as Dr. Roman Yampolskiy’s remind us to pause and reflect. He and other experts warn that AGI’s rapid development may outpace our ability to manage it responsibly, carrying risks as unprecedented as the technology itself. These concerns urge us not only to innovate but also to cultivate foresight, care, and ethical reflection. For me, this inquiry is deeply personal. As a mindfulness practitioner and breathwork enthusiast, I do not claim definitive answers—only observations shaped by awareness. AGI invites us to reflect on both promise an...

"AGI may analyze the shape of a tree… but it cannot be the one feeling awe." AGI May Analyze the Shape of a Tree… But It Cannot Be the One Feeling Awe Not long ago, I found myself listening to a conversation about AGI—Artificial General Intelligence—that carried a startling prediction: it might arrive as early as 2027. One comment in particular stayed with me: “AGI won’t just say yes—it might say no.” What struck me wasn’t so much the idea of a machine refusing a command, but the question beneath it. Could something built from humanity’s knowledge ever stand apart from us? Or would it always be, in some way, a reflection of who we are—curious beings trying to understand our own existence? This is not a technical essay, nor an attempt at prediction. It’s simply a set of reflections on what it means to be human in a time when machines may begin to resemble us. And perhaps, a gentle reminder that no matter how far technology advances, there is something inside us—an inner still...

  In a quiet, peaceful garden, Ari sat cross-legged beneath a flowering tree. The breeze brushed her cheeks, carrying the sweet scent of blossoms. Still, her little brow furrowed. Something was tugging at her thoughts. “Guru,” she whispered, “why do we find it so hard to stay in the present moment?” Guru appeared beside her, eyes gentle and wise. “Because, little one, the mind loves to wander. It runs back to the past, then leaps ahead to the future. But the present—it is like an awakened moment. When you put aside those racing thoughts and open your senses, you taste life directly, just as it is.” Ari tilted her head. “So, if I’m really feeling everything around me—smelling the flowers, hearing the birds, feeling the breeze—then I’m actually interacting with the divine?” Guru smiled. “Exactly. In that presence, you are in tune with the gift of life itself. You are already touching the divine.” Ari’s eyes brightened. Then another question bubbled up. “But why is it that when I...

                                                 One afternoon, Ari sat under the shade of a tall tree, her knees pulled to her chest. She felt restless. Three different paths stretched out in her imagination, and each one tugged at her in a different way. “Guru,” she whispered, “I don’t know what to do.” Guru appeared beside her, calm and kind. “What choices are before you, little one?” Ari’s brow furrowed. “The first path is the one I already know—familiar, safe, easy. The second path is the complete opposite—strange and exciting, but scary too. The third path is no path at all… just waiting, because I don’t know what to choose.” Guru’s eyes softened. “All three are real choices. The familiar brings comfort, but may not stretch you. The opposite brings discovery, but also risk. Waiting gives time, but it can also keep you stuck.” Ari hugged her knees tighte...

                             Ari held tightly to her father’s hand as they walked into the quiet, humming lab. He was a doctor, and today he was meeting researchers who studied the brain. For Ari, everything felt like stepping into a secret world—machines glowing, screens lit up with shifting colors, and strange chairs that looked like they belonged in a spaceship. “Papa,” Ari whispered, “what are they doing here?” Before her father could answer, the warm voice of Guru rose inside her. “They are studying how the brain works, little one—how it speaks, how it listens, how it remembers, how it feels.” A researcher noticed Ari peeking and smiled, inviting her to look at the images on a glowing screen. “See these colors? They show which parts of the brain are active. When you talk, one area lights up. When you listen, another does.” Ari’s eyes widened. “So these areas let us talk and understand each other?” The resea...

In a quiet village, nestled between hills and humming trees, lived a curious child named Ari. The village was from a time long ago, where days moved gently and wonder still filled the air. Ari spent her days in a little workshop, helping craft magical moving pictures. These weren’t films or modern reels—but hand-drawn scenes, each one a delicate frame. When flipped quickly, they danced to life: a fox leaping through the trees, stars tumbling across the sky, a kite soaring higher than the clouds. It was storytelling at its simplest—and most enchanting. But one morning, the workshop’s doors didn’t open. The shutters stayed closed, the tools lay quiet. The workshop had closed down. At first, Ari felt like a lantern blown out. The laughter, the drawing, the stories—they were gone. But then, from somewhere deep inside, a soft warmth flickered. Ari picked up her charcoal and began to draw. She painted meadows where dreams ran free, and told tales of whispering winds and talking rivers. Every...

Once upon a twinkling time, there was a curious little traveler named Ari . Ari didn’t have a sword, or a crown, or even a map. What Ari had was far more magical— a heart full of wonder and a backpack bursting with questions . “Why are stars so shiny?” “Do trees whisper secrets to each other?” “Why does toast always fall butter-side down?” Every step Ari took was an adventure. Every question led to a new discovery. And every friend she met along the way added a sprinkle of magic to her journey. This is the story of Ari’s ups and downs, giggles and questions, and the wondrous path she traveled—one chapter at a time. ✨ Chapter 1: The Fox and the Riddle Ari skipped along the sparkly, twisty path, her backpack bouncing with every step. She was humming a tune made of questions. “Why are clouds so fluffy? Why do stars wink at night? Why does my tummy rumble louder than thunder?” Suddenly, a rustle came from the bushes. Out popped a fox with the shiniest eyes Ari had ever seen....

In the beginning, the universe was like a wide-open playground, waiting to be explored. The Creator, rather than painting a single finished masterpiece, filled the space with endless possibility—glittering stars like marbles scattered on a floor, planets spinning like tops, mysteries tucked in every corner. Into this playground tumbled Ari. She was pure curiosity wrapped in laughter, a wanderer with pockets full of “why?” and “what if?” Ari wasn’t looking for answers so much as she was chasing them the way a child chases fireflies—delighted each time one slipped away. At first, the journey felt wild and unpredictable. One day, a storm roared out of nowhere, snatching Ari’s hat and tumbling her sideways. Instead of fear, she burst out laughing and ran after it, only to discover the storm had carried her to a hidden valley that glowed with flowers. Another day, she tripped over a root, face-first into the dirt. The ground caught her softly, as if to say, “Surprise!” Ari sat up, giggli...