What Happens When AI Inherits Our Pain?

I stood there, numb and barely able to see through the handrails, just enough to make eye contact. The bull waddled from side to side—dazed, gasping for anyone or anything to pull it back to life, its soul slipping away before its worn, heavy body could find solace in the ground where the Matador anxiously paced. A tear trickled from the bull’s eye, making its way down his face—breathless, heartless, soulless. I gripped the handrail tightly as my tears flowed freely and quietly, drowning out the roaring applause. My heart was shattered, though I didn’t fully grasp it—I was still just a kid. My father picked me up and softly said, “He’s in a better place now.” As he carried me away, I rested my head on his shoulder, unwilling to close my eyes. That day, I discovered what heartbreak felt like—not just from spoken words, but through a physical ache that transformed into ataraxia, a strange and sacred calm that lives beyond devastation.

Why am I telling you this?

Because machines will never understand these things.

Not just the story.

But the frequency underneath it.

---

The Impact of AI on Human Emotions

AI doesn’t run on feelings. But it runs on energy.

If you’re skeptical about energy frequencies and consider them “woo-woo,” take a moment to reflect: What do you believe drives Artificial Intelligence? Our stories, our language, our emotional blueprint.

It is powered by "energy," but it is trained on our energy.

AI acts as a mirror, reflecting back at us. If we develop AI from a state of disconnection and unresolved emotions, the issues we don't address tend to recur, and these repeated patterns become the foundation of the data.

---

Even OpenAI eventually caught on, quietly writing an internal position paper titled “Emotional Risk in Human–AI Dialogue,” which outlines how the company thinks about emotionally loaded interactions and the risks of over-reliance on AI for support. They sensed the signal; they just haven't shared the frequency as of yet. 

So when I hear, “AI is the new therapy,” I ask:

• Whose memories are in the data?

• Whose unresolved wounds are we normalizing?

• Whose empathy got overwritten in the name of optimization?

Because AI doesn’t feel or resonate, it processes.

So if the data is trained on low-frequency emotional states—shame, fear, control, unresolved trauma—because of outdated human programming... what makes you think that energy isn’t being passed on through the machine?

Or do you think your trauma is so different from the person next to you?

---

What Happens When AI Inherits Our Emotional Trauma

Emotions carry energetic signatures.

They vibrate at specific frequencies, impacting your body, brain, relationships, decision-making, and reality. One way to map this is through Hawkins’ Emotional Tone Scale —A scale that charts emotional frequencies from:

• Shame vibrates at 20 Hz

• Fear at 100 Hz

• Courage at 200 Hz

• Love at 500 Hz

• Enlightenment at 700+ Hz

Low frequencies constrict us, while high ones expand us. 

So yes, AI can model the words for those feelings. But it can't feel your frequency. It doesn't know the emotional state of the programmer who built it. And it can’t transmute grief into wisdom.

But it can — and will — influence your emotional state.

So, when we ignore the energetic quality of the data we use to train AI, we risk normalizing low-vibration emotional code.

When Frequencies Turn Dark

Let me address something that may be uncomfortable, but it's necessary to discuss; it highlights the consequences of unprocessed emotions and unhealed wounds. 

Long before the advent of binary code, neural networks, and artificial intelligence, there was sound. This goes beyond mere music and touches on vibrational intelligence. The Solfeggio scale, also known as Just Intonation, was first utilized in Gregorian chants. This six-tone frequency set wasn’t just a tool—it was a profound means of connection and healing.

By the 16th century, the original Solfeggio scale had either been lost or, more accurately, replaced. Some believe this change disrupted the healing frequencies, potentially leading to control or compliance. Centuries later, a movement emerged, largely inspired by a man whose journey traced back to unresolved wounds from his past. He carried deep pain from the humiliation inflicted by his father and the feeling of being dismissed by society.

Hitler's pain metastasized into obsession. He needed control. He needed someone to blame. He needed to stop feeling weak, so he projected that pain onto the world.

What followed was horror… disguised as purpose.

---

The Nazi anthem, “Horst-Wessel-Lied,” was played in standard tuning (A = 440 Hz).

Energetically, the hymn sits between:

• 100 Hz (Fear)

• 150 Hz (Anger)

• 175 Hz (Pride)

These are frequencies of contraction, not expansion. The hymn wasn’t composed to elevate. It was a sonic weapon designed to control. Engineered to evoke loyalty, suppress dissent, and stir hate.

You don’t need to understand the lyrics. You feel the tension. That’s the power of frequency.

Imagine that frequency — and thousands like it — being pulled into training data. Unchecked. Uncontextualized. And called “neutral.”

Or you could check directly with Kanye and his team. I hear he's been inspired lately. 

Outdated Programming. We All Have It.

So again, I ask:

What frequency are we programming?

We all carry generational trauma passed down from our families, shaped by institutions, culture, warfare, survival, and silence. Today, we’re channeling that same programming into our language models. We’re training these machines using our words, biases, and emotional blind spots.

Unprocessed emotions don’t vanish. They get passed on.

Sometimes through generations. Sometimes, through politically driven algorithms.

This is why energetic hygiene matters in technology—not just data hygiene, not just ethical frameworks, but emotional and spiritual hygiene.

AI won’t evolve until we do. And if we don't pause to rewrite our own systems, we’re not innovating. We’re just scaling the same broken patterns, expecting different outcomes. 

Falling into the same broken patterns while hoping for different outcomes is a relatable trap many of us find ourselves in. Although AI can help us organize our thoughts and capture the essence of our emotions, it can never fully understand our unique experiences. 

I asked AI to analyze why I felt so heartbroken that day. And it did a marvelous job. It really did. It deconstructed trauma that wasn't even mine, but nevertheless, it allowed me to intellectualize the why of my emotional response, giving my mind the illusion that the feeling had been resolved. 

And yet, whenever I walk by the Plaza as I do every day, the ache persists.