When Jasmine Jaksic needed a break from the artificial world of AI, she found solace in a nearby marsh.
I recently joined an AI startup in Palo Alto, located near Baylands nature preserve. After yet another discussion around how to make machines converse more like humans, I decided to take a break from machines and humans alike and ventured outside. I never cared for marshlands. Why would I, when the Bay Area is blessed with majestic redwoods and evergreen oaks? But that’s not what I had within walking distance.
As I wandered by a small swamp, I stopped. My preconceptions of a marsh died in the fluttering wings of two cabbage white butterflies that drifted by and danced in unison. I perched on a small concrete wall at the edge of a road to take in the view. It was home to bees buzzing around a tapestry of mustard flowers. A flock of geese lazily floated by on the stagnant water. The chattering birds nearly drowned out the sounds of planes taking off from the nearby airport. A discarded metal fan with rich hues of iron oxide housed an array of tiny insects. Individually they didn’t amount to much, but collectively it was a symphony. I just had to declutter my heart and mind to hear it.
As I was lost in this unassuming beauty, something small literally fell into my lap. I instinctively stiffened, thinking it was a honey bee or worse a hornet, but to my delight it was a ladybug. It ventured around my green linen pants and rested in a shady spot provided by my hunched over body. I looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of a hawk. Humans may have mimicked the movements of a hawk, but not its grace and certainly not its stealth, as evidenced by yet another unseemly aircraft that flew by.
I took a few pictures, knowing all too well that it won’t do justice. Just then the ladybug decided to take flight, and I too slowly headed back to my office, feeling rejuvenated by nature and wondering if machines would ever experience this serenity, no matter how articulate they can get.