Don’t Trust It Too Much: Even AI’s Creators Are Telling You That

I’m back from my holidays — and that’s it for now. Head-down time.

I spent the last week walking the cities of Spain — wandering through shady cobbled streets, exploring cathedrals and castles, soaking up the architecture and the stories etched into every corner.

Cadiz was my favourite.

I’d never even heard of it before, but it completely took my breath away.

Plaza Sacramento

I enjoyed strolling through shaded gardens, and streets with cafés tucked into them like secrets.

I sat in one to drink coffee — strong, Spanish, and just delicious.

And then, around the next corner was Plaza Sacramento.

This beautiful, open square just appeared, flooded with light.

It was jaw-droppingly spacious and beautiful.

One of those moments that makes you think, yes… just this.

What stood out on my trip wasn’t just the beauty — though there was plenty of that.

It was the people.

The history. The passion. The sense that everything was layer upon layer of real human experience.

Coming home and venturing back to work and of course thinking about social media and websites. I’m realising I’ve been champion of being authentic with your content for some time now.

We are surrounded by polished captions, slick videos, flawless blog posts.

But what actually stops anyone from scrolling?

Imperfection.

A spelling mistake. A raw, unfiltered thought.

These are now the signals that tell us: this is real. There’s a human behind this. And that’s become a rare and really precious thing.

The Japanese philosophy of wabi-sabi celebrates this — the beauty found in things that are imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete.

You see it in hand-thrown ceramics, weathered wood, delicate ink lines.

And lately, I’m seeing it in content too.

Because while we’re consuming more than ever… we’re trusting less.

We instinctively question, or I certainly do: Was this written by a person… or a prompt?

What a world we live in !

Even the CEO of OpenAI — the company behind ChatGPT — recently said:

“People have a very high degree of trust in ChatGPT, which is interesting, because AI hallucinates. It should be the tech that you don’t trust that much.”

That quote really stuck with me. It’s quite frightening.

Because the truth is: AI doesn’t know you. It doesn’t live your life.

It pulls from the internet. You pull from your gut, from your life experiences and from your soul.

I’m not anti-AI — far from it. I’ve used it in my work for over two years.

But I use it to support my creativity - not replace it.

Because what actually connects isn’t polished- it’s personal with your personality threaded through it.

It’s the story only you can tell. The messy thoughts and this message and the importance of being human keeps showing up for me in unexpected places.

Like at the airport, for example.

Not the fanciest one. Not the most efficient.

But the one where someone engaged with me, looked up and smiled.

Where a staff member said, “It’s OK, you’ve gone over your allowance — I can still put it through - no charge.”

(Not Gatwick, I can tell you that.)

That small interaction and act of kindness reminded me:

We need human connection.

We don’t just thrive on it — we long for it.

That’s also why BNI meetings bring me so much joy too.

Every week, we stand up and pitch — something that used to terrify me (and still does, a little).

But I watch people I’ve come to know and care about speak about their work.

Sometimes with passion, sometimes with nerves, sometimes with tears.

It’s not always polished. But it’s always real. And I absolutely love that.

Because that’s what moves us.

A hug. A compliment. A glance across the room. A moment of being truly seen.

AI can’t replicate that. And nor should it.

So yes, use AI. Let it help you work smarter. But do not hand it the mic.

Flood your content with you.

Your thoughts. Your stories. Your quirks.

The parts that are beautifully unfinished.

Practise digital wabi-sabi.

Last thoughts on this even the Mona Lisa — the most famous painting in the world — is imperfect.

Look and you’ll notice she has no eyebrows.

Her smile is asymmetrical. Some believe parts of the painting were left unfinished.

And yet, it’s these tiny flaws that give her mystery, emotion, and enduring power.

Perfection might impress us, but imperfection moves us and makes us feel something.

Because in a world trying to sound perfect…

Being human is what truly stands out.