Parenting in the Age of AI

A personal reflection on parenting, screens, and finding steadiness in a changing world.

Parenting is an infinitely humbling experience.

Years ago, when Fortnite went viral, my son was obsessed. Like most kids his age, he was glued to his computer. I hated it. I remembered my own childhood, roaming the neighborhood until dark. It felt wrong to watch him spend hour after hour indoors.

So I used the one leverage point I had. When he got into trouble, I took away Fortnite.

It seemed like the perfect solution. No game meant he would go outside and do what kids are supposed to do, right?

Wrong.

One afternoon I looked out the window after sending him out to play. He was riding his bike in circles. Alone. There were no other kids. They were all inside, on their own screens.

That was the moment it hit me. I wasn’t teaching him anything. I was trying to recreate a world that no longer existed.

My son is now twenty. He attends the same university I did. Many of the same buildings are still there. He’s taking some of the same courses. On the surface, he’s going through the same transition that I did when I was his age.

But psychologically, he’s living in a different world.

When I stepped onto campus as a freshman, I was paralyzed by social anxiety. Public speaking terrified me. I felt exposed and unsure of myself. But my insecurity lived mostly in my own mind.

Today’s young adults live inside systems that amplify insecurity and monetize attention. They wake up and fall asleep in a web of social comparison. Identity is curated. Attention is harvested. They are always visible, always being evaluated, or always wondering why no one is paying attention.

Even after thirty years of meditation, I still feel the reflex to grab my phone when I have a free moment. I feel the pull of the endless scroll. If we struggle with these forces as adults, imagine encountering them at twelve. Or ten. Or six.

And now we are entering something even more destabilizing with the rise of AI.

A college student today can generate an essay in seconds. They can brainstorm ideas, write code, summarize research, draft emotional messages, even simulate therapeutic conversations. The friction that once forced struggle, confusion, and original thought is quietly dissolving.

I do not say this as a critic of innovation. These tools are extraordinary.

But development matters.

Frustration tolerance matters.

Wrestling with a blank page matters.

Sitting with frustration…with boredom…with loneliness. It all matters.

When we have infinite intelligence at our fingertips, what happens to authorship? When answers arrive instantly, what happens to inquiry? When artificial systems can mirror empathy, what happens to the slow, messy work of learning how to sit with another human being’s pain?

We do not know.

The pace of technological change is far outstripping the pace of research. As Richie — my co-conspirator here on Dharma Lab — often says, we are all unwitting participants in a massive experiment for which none of us has given informed consent.

So what am I supposed to tell my son?

He is headstrong, as I was. He is navigating forces I did not face. And he needs to find his own path.

There are days when I feel powerless to help him.

Yesterday was one of those days.

I woke before dawn to catch up on email and Slack. Meetings ran back to back. By evening, my body was tight and buzzing. I was drained.

My son was having a rough day too. I wanted so badly to talk to him and comfort him, knowing full well that my attempts to express my care usually come out as a clueless parental lecture. He just needed space.

So I went upstairs, lay down, and did something very simple. I brought awareness into my body. I wasn’t trying to fix anything. I just noticed the tightness in my chest, the residue of a dozen conversations still echoing in my nervous system. I didn’t try to release it or change it. I just held space for it, the way you might sit with a friend who needed to be heard.

Within a few minutes, something shifted. Not because I figured anything out. Because I stopped trying to figure anything out. I was being, amidst all the doing.

For me, time like this is no longer optional. It is oxygen. It is water. It feels as vital to me as air.

But it does not appear on its own. I have to make time for it. If I don’t, it disappears.

This is where I return to a simple idea from Buddhist psychology: We are not reducible to our roles, our achievements, our online identities, or even to our memories and personal histories. All of those shape us. But none of them define the deepest layer of who we are.

Beneath the noise, there are currents moving through our inner landscape that are always present. Awareness. The capacity to know experience. Compassion. The capacity to care. Wisdom. The capacity to discern what leads to suffering and what leads to freedom.

These are not beliefs. They are capacities. And they strengthen with practice.

I still think about that image of my son riding in circles. It was horrifying and sad at the same time. But looking back, I can see that the loneliness I was witnessing wasn’t just his. It was mine too. I was alone in my confusion, my fear, my sense that the world had shifted beneath my feet and I had no idea how to respond.

Meditation hasn’t given me a map. But it has given me ground to stand on. And from that ground, I can be present with my son even when I can’t guide him. I can be present with my own uncertainty instead of running from it. I can keep returning to those deeper currents that don’t depend on having everything figured out.

We cannot control the world our children are growing up in. We cannot shield them from forces we barely understand ourselves. But we can practice being here. We can keep showing up. We can offer something that algorithms and platforms will never provide.

The sidewalk may be empty. But we don’t have to be.

Warmly,

Cort

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Reminders:

• Our week-long pod on the science and practice of flourishing with our friends at ServiceSpace starts this Sunday, in addition to an Awakin call with Cort today at 10am ET. We hope to see you there!

• Our next live Ask Me Anything with Richie and Cort is on April 14th at 8pm ET (for paid subscribers). Please send us your questions in advance via chat, email, or in comments!