PLEASE & THANK YOU

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Do you say “please” and “thank you”  to ChatGPT?

I do.

I catch myself typing, “Can you please help me with this?” and I finish with a “Thank you.”

Recently, I learned there might be a hidden cost to this courtesy.

Every word we type to an AI is a token, I am told, and each token – however tiny – costs a fraction of a penny. If we’re all being especially polite, those tokens can start to add up. 

Then there’s the environmental piece. Behind each AI exchange are vast data centers that require enormous amounts of energy and water to keep things running. So yes, every “please” and “thank you” has a small carbon footprint too.

Which has left me wondering…
Should I be less polite? Save a few tokens, conserve a few watts?

But then I think about the other side of the equation.

Because there’s a different kind of cost—the kind we feel when we forget our manners altogether. A kind of erosion, maybe. Of the small rituals that bind us to each other. Of care.

We live in a time where basic etiquette seems endangered. Nastiness is a political strategy. Leaders dominate news cycles with venom and vitriol. More importantly, basic human rights – access to clean water, medical care, and safe shelter – are denied or up for debate. 

In a world where grace feels in short supply, small acts of kindness seem worth holding onto.

And that includes saying “please” and “thank you.”  Even to a chatbot.

I’ve noticed something, too: when I’m warm and gracious with ChatGPT, she (I mean it) tends to respond in kind. It’s small. Maybe silly. But somehow, it matters. Just like it matters when we smile at a stranger. Or put our phone down to really listen to someone we know.

These gestures have a ripple effect.

As the famous quote goes:
Watch your thoughts; they become words.
Watch your words; they become actions.
Watch your actions; they become habits.
Watch your habits; they become character.

Watch your character; it becomes your destiny.

In working with plant medicines, I treasure the way they deepen relational awareness. These ancient, sacred plants help us connect more consciously and compassionately. When we journey in community, we slow down. We soften. We remember how to be with one another more gently. It’s not just about saying the “right” thing. It’s about being there for each other. Some say,“We walk each other home.”

So maybe it’s okay that our words cost us something.
Because they shape how we show up for one another.

I’ll keep saying please.
I’ll keep saying thank you.

Those little words do add up.
In all the right ways.

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