Am I The "Tech Person" To Learn AI?

Why "it's not my nature" is the excuse that lets you off the hook, and why your nature is bigger than you think.

Clara has a story she tells herself.

It goes like this: I've never been good with technology. I was the last in my friend group to get a smartphone. I still ask my kids to set up the streaming apps. It's just not in my nature.

The story is comfortable. Familiar. It wraps around her like an old sweater, protecting her from the discomfort of trying something new. Every time she encounters something tech-related that feels hard, she reaches for the story. It's not my nature. That's for other people. I'm just not that kind of person.

But lately, the story has started to feel less like protection and more like a cage.

If this sounds familiar, you're not alone. Clara is one of you. She's smart, capable, and she's spent decades building a life. And somewhere along the way, she decided - or maybe was told - that she's "not a tech person."

I recently listened to a podcast about Wayne Dyer that taught me: "nature" is not a fixed thing you're born with. It's a story you tell yourself until you believe it's true.

Where This Excuse Hides

For Clara, it's "I've never been good with gadgets. Why would AI be different?"

For Patricia, it's "I grew up with rotary phones. This isn't my world."

For Nora, it's "I'm a people person. Tech is for the engineers."

For Elena, it's "I didn't study computer science. I don't have the background."

The excuse sounds different for each woman, but underneath it's the same story: I am a certain kind of person, and that kind of person doesn't do this.

According to Dyer and his teachings: the story of who you are is not written in stone. It's written in ink. And ink can be changed.

Who Was Wayne Dyer?

Dr. Wayne W. Dyer (1940–2015) was an American psychologist, author, and motivational speaker who became one of the most influential voices in the self-help movement.

After earning his doctorate in counselling from Wayne State University, Dyer worked as a high school guidance counsellor and later as a professor at St. John's University in New York. His first book, Your Erroneous Zones (1976), became one of the best-selling books of all time, with over 35 million copies sold worldwide.

Over his career, Dyer wrote more than 40 books. His work evolved from psychological themes like motivation and self-actualization to deeper spiritual teachings influenced by thinkers such as Abraham Maslow, Lao Tzu, and Swami Muktananda.

This blog post is a part of a series based on Dyer’s book “Excuses Begone! How to Change Lifelong, Self-Defeating Thinking Habits”, which was published in 2009 by Hay House.

Dyer's gentle, compassionate approach reminds us that we're capable of far more than our excuses would have us believe: a perfect starting point for our conversation about AI and staying human. 

What Dyer Knew About Nature

Wayne Dyer often said that our true nature is not the limited identity we've constructed over a lifetime. Our true nature is something much larger, much more fluid, much more capable.

For the excuse "it's not my nature to learn AI" Dyer offered this affirmation:

"My essential nature is perfect and faultless. It is to this nature that I return."

He wasn't saying you're perfect at everything. He was saying that your essential self (the you beneath the stories) is not limited by the labels you've collected. "Not a tech person" is a label, not a nature. It's a habit of thought, not a fact of biology.

You can learn new things. You can surprise yourself. You can be someone you've never been before.

The Stories We Tell Ourselves

Let's look at some of the "nature" stories you might be carrying:

The Story	Where it came from	A New Story You Could Tell
I'm not technical.	Maybe a difficult experience early on. Maybe someone told you that.	I'm someone who learns what matters to me."
I'm too old for this.	Maybe you absorbed the cultural message that learning is for the young.	I've learned hard things my whole life. This is no different.
I'm a creative person, not an analytical one.	Maybe school or work put you in a box.	I can be creative and curious about how things work.
I let my partner handle the tech stuff.	Maybe it was easier to divide labor that way.	I can share in this part of our lives too.
I'm just not curious about how things work.	Maybe you've told yourself this so long it feels true.	I'm curious about the world I live in. That includes this.

None of these new stories are lies. They're just as true as the old ones. The difference is they open doors instead of closing them.

Learning AI: One Small Thing You Can Do Today

Here's a practice I borrowed from my own life. I call it the "Not My Nature" Audit.

Take a piece of paper. Write down three things you've learned in your life that you once thought were "not your nature."

Maybe it was cooking, after years of burning toast. Maybe it was public speaking, after years of being shy. Maybe it was navigating a new city, after years of getting lost. Maybe it was being a parent, after never having held a baby.

Look at that list. See how many times you've already proven yourself wrong. See how many things you now do with ease that once felt foreign.

Your nature is not a cage. It's a garden. And you've been planting new seeds your whole life.

A Gentle Invitation

I keep a small notebook where I write down the things I once thought were "not my nature" that I later learned. It's a humbling, joyful list. Reading it reminds me that I've been capable of growth my entire life. The only thing that changes is whether I believe it or not.

If you're someone who finds evidence on paper, I make journals for exactly these moments.

A place to collect the proof that you've always been more than the story you were told.

But even a scrap of paper works. The important thing is to see the evidence.

The Truth About Nature

Here's what Clara discovered, when she finally let herself question the story.

She'd been avoiding AI for months. Every time it came up, she'd smile and say, "That's for my kids. I'm not a tech person."

One afternoon, her daughter was visiting. She showed Clara how to use an AI tool to plan a family meal based on ingredients in the fridge. It took three minutes. Clara watched. She asked one question. Then she tried it herself.

Nothing exploded. No one laughed. Her daughter didn't roll her eyes.

What Clara realized, sitting at her kitchen table with her phone in her hand, was this: the only person who had been telling her she wasn't a tech person was herself. And she didn't have to listen anymore.

Your nature is not a label someone gave you decades ago. It's not a story you absorbed about who you are and who you aren't. Your nature is whatever you choose to grow into.

And you get to choose. Every day. With every small step.

Come back soon. There's more to talk about.

Warm greetings

 Maria