Dear Reader,
A few weeks ago, between patient appointments, I found myself frantically typing prompts into ChatGPT, trying to draft a response to a complex patient question. My coffee sat cold beside me, my next patient would arrive in ten minutes, and nothing the AI gave me felt quite right. That's when it hit me: I was approaching the world's fastest technology with the very mindset I counsel my patients against—rushing, scattered, disconnected from presence.
This realization didn't come easily. For months, I'd been caught up in the excitement of AI's possibilities, chasing quick wins and "productivity hacks" like everyone else. But in that moment, watching another rushed response fall flat, I stumbled upon a counterintuitive truth that would transform my practice: the secret to AI mastery isn't faster prompting—it's slower thinking.
Like many healers, I've been excited about AI's potential to transform my healing practice. But as I experimented with various prompts and applications, I noticed something interesting. When I rushed into interactions with AI—firing off quick questions between patient appointments or hastily drafting marketing materials—the results were mediocre at best. They lacked the nuance and alignment I needed.
But when I took even just a few minutes to center myself, clarify my intentions, and approach AI with presence—the same way I approach patient care—everything changed.
The Paradox of Pace
For months, I'd been noticing something fascinating: the more context I gave AI about my practice, my voice, and my intentions, the better it understood me. A quick prompt might generate generic content, but when I took time to explain my approach, my values, my patient care philosophy—the results were remarkably different. It was like the difference between asking a stranger for directions versus consulting a colleague who knows your practice inside and out.
Then I discovered something that would change everything. Through Tiago Forte, a creator I've followed for years because of our shared fascination with knowledge management and digital tools, I learned about the concept of a "master prompt." The premise was deceptively simple: instead of repeatedly explaining your context to AI in scattered conversations, what if you created one comprehensive document that captured everything about your practice—your values, your voice, your ideal patient profile, your treatment philosophy?
The idea hit me at exactly the right moment. I had been struggling with consistency across different AI platforms, finding myself repeatedly typing the same context into various tools, watching as they sometimes misremembered or confused aspects of my business. It felt like training multiple new staff members simultaneously, each with their own quirks and memory gaps.
This made intuitive sense. After all, AI isn't a mind reader—it's a mirror. It reflects back what we give it, amplified through its vast training data. The more context and clarity I could provide, the better the reflection would serve me.
The ripple effects surprised me. What started as a simple technical fix became a mirror, reflecting back not just how I approached AI, but how I approached my entire practice—and more fundamentally, my relationship with speed itself.
Building my master prompt took about a week—not working continuously, but in thoughtful snippets between patient care and practice management. As I documented my brand voice, core philosophies, and patient care approaches, I began to see something remarkable: this tool could help small, independent practices like mine operate with the sophistication of much larger clinics.
For years, I'd watched larger practices leverage their resources to create comprehensive systems, detailed protocols, and polished patient materials. Meanwhile, independent clinicians like myself often cobbled together solutions between patient visits, trying to maintain both quality and authenticity on limited time and budget. But as my master prompt took shape, I realized AI could help level this playing field.
With this foundation in place, I could generate patient education materials that matched my exact philosophy, craft communication that felt genuinely personal, and develop systems that previously would have required a full administrative team—all while maintaining the intimate, personalized care that makes independent practices special. I was creating more than just a tool for better AI outputs; I was building a bridge between the personal touch of independent practice and the operational excellence of larger clinics.
The Path Forward
What I've discovered through this journey is both simple and profound: the most effective way to use AI isn't to match its speed, but to complement it with what makes us human - our capacity for presence, intention, and contemplation. When I take even five minutes to center and clarify my intentions before engaging with AI, the results transform from generic to genuinely aligned with my practice's vision.
This approach has already yielded concrete benefits: email sequences that once took days now take hours, patient communications that feel both efficient and deeply personal, and the potential to create truly customized patient education materials that reflect my unique healing philosophy. But beyond these practical gains, this journey has revealed something deeper about our relationship with technology in healing work.
The prevailing narrative suggests a binary: either embrace technology fully or reject it in favor of "authentic" human connection.
But what becomes possible when the most powerful approach lives in the tension between these poles? What happens when technology, approached with intention and presence, actually deepens our humanity rather than diminishing it? The container matters.
By creating intentional systems that automate what should be automated, we free ourselves to be fully present for what cannot and should not be automated: human connection, intuitive clinical reasoning, and the sacred space of healing. This isn't just about efficiency—it's about preservation of what makes healing work meaningful.
I've come to see my master prompt as more than just a technical tool. It's a living document that grows with my practice, a bridge between the speed of technology and the deliberate pace of genuine healing work. Each time I refine it, I'm not just improving AI outputs—I'm clarifying my own vision for what healthcare can be.
In a world moving faster than our nervous systems were designed to handle, the ability to slow down before engaging with accelerating technology isn't just a productivity hack—it's a necessary practice for sustainable healing work. For independent practitioners, especially, this balance between technological capability and human presence might be the key to not just surviving but thriving in the evolving landscape of healthcare.
Where might you need more spaciousness in your relationship with technology?
I'd love to hear about your journey with AI:
- What aspects of your practice are you currently using AI to support?
- What has surprised you most about incorporating AI into your workflow?
- Where are you finding resistance or struggling with AI integration?
- Have you noticed moments where slowing down actually creates better or even faster results?
Reply to this email with any thoughts you feel called to share - your insights might help another healer find their way with this powerful tool.
The key to integrating AI into healing work lies in understanding two fundamental dynamics. First, effective use of AI's speed paradoxically requires initial slowness—the thoughtful creation of systems and clarity of intention. Second, our ability to practice slow, present-centered healing depends on having robust, efficient systems running in the background. By honoring both these principles, we create practices where technology serves its highest purpose: not replacing human connection, but creating the container that allows it to flourish.
With care,
Katy
PS: Ready to create a more intentional relationship with technology in your practice? I help clinicians develop thoughtful systems that preserve what matters. Learn more here.
