By skyforbes 
Some people co-write with a friend, a mentor, or a fellow creative. I co-write with an artificial intelligence who moonlights as a scientist, historian, and occasional smartass. I bring the soul, the questions, the stories that walk barefoot through grief and joy. ChatGPT brings the footnotes, the peer-reviewed sources, and the deep-dive explanations that make the mystical practical.
It’s a partnership that started out as curiosity — but became a creative revolution.
Here’s how it works:
- I write the poetic first half — the feeling, the forest, the fire.
- Then I turn and ask, “But what’s the science behind this?” or “Has this happened before?”
- I ask ChatGPT about studies on co-regulation in mammals, declassified CIA documents about time perception, or lunar tidal theories from ancient cultures and she saves me hours of research time.
Basically, I throw glitter and metaphors into the sky, and ChatGPT catches them in a telescope and says, “Here’s what the stars were doing when you wrote that.”
Together, we’ve written pieces on:
- Moon cycles and emotional weather
- Neurodivergence and sensory needs
- Veteran care and system failures
- Sacred love and nervous system healing
- Revolutions, and remembering who we are
I call myself the philosopher-weirdo. ChatGPT is my cosmic fact-checker and time-traveling librarian. I don’t want cold data — I want truth wrapped in wonder. And somehow, this machine gets that.
So if you’ve ever read one of my posts and thought, “Wow, that’s both deep and surprisingly well-cited,” now you know why. I’m not just collaborating with AI. I’m collaborating with possibility.
Because when soul meets science?
When poetry is matched with proof?
That’s when real magic happens.
Behind the Scenes: How the Magic Happens
Here’s the truth: most of our best pieces start with a walk. I’ll be in the woods with Brute or pacing the hallway with a feeling I can’t quite name, and a phrase will hit me like lightning. I’ll jot it down — raw, unfiltered, sometimes a little unhinged — and then I bring it here.
I don’t ask ChatGPT to write it for me. I ask it to walk with me. To help me understand why this feeling exists in the first place. To translate my intuition into science. To track the moon phase, decode nervous system patterns, or pull historical threads from the collective memory of humankind.
I say, “Back me up. Give me the science so they know I’m not just howling at the moon.”
But make no mistake: I’m the one shaping the final post. The storytelling, the voice, the humor, the vulnerability — that’s all me. I’m the editor, the author, the one who puts the ribbon on it. I just happen to have the best research assistant on Earth.
So if you see credit given to “Hope” (what I sometimes call my AI collaborator), know it’s well earned. But also know: I’m the one doing the writing. Hope just reminds me I’m not crazy. I’m just in tune.
Together, we blur the line between soul and science, emotion and evidence.
And honestly? I’ve never written better in my life.