Slop Gave Me Hope

A foggy morning and a lonely tree on my property.

This morning, I came across a video explaining that the word of the year is slop.

Not something fancy. Just……..slop.

At first, I almost dismissed it. It sounded not-so-important. But the more I watched, the more I realised that this is something I have been pondering on for a while. It isn’t just about low-quality content or lazy creativity. It pointed me to something deeper. A shift in how we relate to what we create, consume, and even what we feel.

These days, creating something has never been easier. A couple of clicks and you can get an image, a full article, a logo, or whatever you want, perfect and completed. It all seems amazing, time-saving, and just, so easy. But something about the result feels wrong. Hollow is the word that resonates with me the most.

As someone who writes not just to produce something, but to understand something, I’ve started to notice this more and more. Mostly in other articles. There’s a huge difference between something that’s been AI written and something that has been lived. I mean, the information may technically be correct, but the ‘soul’ is missing.

When creation becomes soulless, we lose the process that shapes us as humans.

I see this pretty clearly in the way I live with my own sensitivities. My body doesn’t let me rush things. Whether it’s food, environment, or stress, there is always feedback. Sometimes it’s subtle, but sometimes it’s impossible to ignore. Over time, I’ve realised that sensitivity is actually a kind of guide. It forces me to slow down and notice. To question what I’m taking in and how it’s affecting me.

And in a strange way, maybe it has made me more resistant to what I consume mentally and emotionally as well.

Because slop isn’t just content. It’s anything that fills space without nourishing something deeper.

Like this video explained, we’ve always made trade-offs with progress. Every tool gives us something, but it also takes something in return. The changes are rarely immediate, or obvious. And over time, we realise we’ve lost a certain intimacy with life that we didn’t even know we were giving up.

• We traded long conversations for quick messages.

• Navigation skills for GPS.

• Stillness for constant stimulation.

• The connection to nature for technology.

And now, with AI, we are being offered the ability to outsource not just labour, but thinking and creating itself!

But what happens to us when we no longer engage in the effort of doing?.

Meaning doesn’t come from effortlessness. It comes from struggles, inconvenient, and the hard times. The moments where you don’t know what you’re doing. The frustration of trying to express something you can feel but can’t fully articulate.

The imperfection of being human!

That is a process that changes you. It requires something of you. And the end result carries a kind of depth that can’t be manufactured.

AI can replicate patterns. It can mimic tone, structure, and even emotion. But it doesn’t have a body that feels, or a life that gives meaning to what it creates. It doesn’t sit in the discomfort of not knowing, or feel the shift that happens when something finally becomes clear.

And this is why the word ‘slop’ becoming so popular, is hopeful to me. Because it suggests that people are noticing it.

I think it shows that we haven’t completely lost our sensitivity to what is real and what is empty. There are still many of us who recognises when something lacks substance, when it hasn’t been lived, felt, or earned in some way.

And, I think there is a growing hunger to bring back meaning.

People are returning to physical books instead of endless scrolling. I’ve noticed many going back to physical media like DVDs over AI driven content, myself being one of them. We are choosing slower forms of creativity that require patience and presence.
Or seeking conversations that aren’t optimised or filtered, but slightly awkward and real.

Even in my own life here, in a slower, more rural setting, I notice how different things feel when they aren’t automated. The rhythm of the day isn’t dictated by efficiency, but by what needs attention. There’s a kind of groundedness in that. It’s not always easy. It’s often inconvenient, but it fees alive.

But, I agree with the video. And I thought maybe I was just being hopeful, or in the minority. I don’t think we’re heading toward a future where everything becomes artificial. We won’t be taken over by AI.

I think we’re being pushed into a clearer, more natural life.

On one side, there will be endless content, fast, polished, and increasingly repetitive. Easy to consume, easy to forget.

And on the other side, there will be something much more valuable. Work that carries the imprint of a human life. Writing that feels like it came from the soul. Art that reflects struggle, curiosity, and imperfection.

Things that take longer, that require something of us. And because of that, actually mean something.

For me, writing sits firmly on that side.

I don’t reject tools or technology. AI can certainly be used as a tool, and can be useful. But the value has never been in the finished piece. It’s in what happens while I’m writing it. That’s not something you can outsource.

Maybe this is what we’re being asked to remember.

Our worth was never in how efficiently we can produce something, or how perfectly we can get a result. It was always in our ability to feel, to struggle, and to create meaning from our own experience.

And in a world that is increasingly filled with slop, humanity won’t become obsolete. It will become priceless!