Do I Have Time to Learn AI?

Why "it will take too long" is the excuse that keeps you exactly where you are? And how 10 minutes is enough.

Nora has fifteen minutes before she needs to pick up her kids. She could open that article about AI her colleague sent. She could watch a short video. She could just type one question into ChatGPT and see what happens.

Instead, she scrolls Instagram. Scans the news. Checks her email for the third time. The fifteen minutes vanish, and she's learned nothing new.

Later, lying in bed, she thinks: I'll get to AI when I have more time. When things calm down. When I'm not so busy.

But things never calm down, do they? Not really. Not for long.

If this hits close to home, you're in good company. Nora is one of you. She's a working mom, a stretched-thin human, someone whose days are measured in minutes, not hours. And "I don't have time" is the most reasonable-sounding excuse in the book.

It's also, according to Wayne Dyer, one of the most effective at keeping us stuck.

Where This Excuse Hides

For Nora, it's "I'll get to it when work slows down." (It never does.)

For Clara, it's "I'll learn about AI when the kids are older." (They'll be older, and something else will be urgent.)

For Elena, it's "I need to focus on my actual job right now. AI can wait." (But AI is becoming her actual job, whether she realizes it or not.)

For Patricia, it's "At my age, I don't have years to figure this out." (She doesn't need years. She needs minutes.)

The excuse sounds different for each woman, but underneath it's the same story: I'll do it later. Later will be easier. Later will have more space.

But later is a myth. There is only now. And now always has room for ten minutes.

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 Time

Wayne Dyer often said that our relationship with time is one of the biggest obstacles to change. We tell ourselves we need huge chunks of it, perfect conditions, a clear calendar. But that's not how meaningful change happens.

For the excuse "it will take a long time," Dyer offered this affirmation:

"I have infinite patience when it comes to fulfilling my own destiny."

Notice he didn't say "I have infinite time." He said "infinite patience." The difference is crucial.

Patience means you're willing to move slowly. Willing to take small steps. Willing to trust that showing up consistently, even for a few minutes, adds up to something real.  

You don't need hours. You need patience. And a willingness to start where you are.

The 10-Minute Rule

Here's a practice I borrowed from my own life. I call it the "10-Minute Tuesday" rule.

Every Tuesday, at whatever time works, you spend exactly ten minutes on AI.

Not mastering it. Not becoming an expert. Just... engaging with it.

• Read one short article.

• Ask AI one question you've been curious about.

• Watch a three-minute video and spend seven minutes thinking about it.

• Open that newsletter you've been ignoring and actually read it.

Ten minutes. That's it.

The magic isn't in the ten minutes themselves. It's in the consistency. Ten minutes a week is eighty minutes a month. Sixteen hours a year. That's not nothing. That's a foundation.

And more importantly, it sends a signal to your brain: This matters. I show up for this. I am someone who learns.

What Counts as "Learning AI"?

Let me be specific, because "learning AI" sounds enormous and vague. It's not. Here are ten things that absolutely count as learning:

1.  Reading one article (like this one)

2.  Asking AI to explain a term you don't understand

3.  Trying a low-stakes experiment (like last week's post suggested)

4.  Watching a five-minute explainer video

5.  Asking a friend what AI tools they use

6.  Opening an AI tool and just looking at it

7.  Writing down one question you have about AI

8.  Searching Google for "how to use AI for [something you care about]"

9.  Reading the comments on a post about AI

10.  Thinking about AI for five minutes while you drink your tea

None of these require expertise. None of them take hours. All of them count.

A Gentle Invitation

I keep a small notebook where I track my ten-minute Tuesdays. Not because I need a record, but because checking a box feels good. It reminds me that I showed up. That I'm someone who learns slowly, gently, consistently.

If you're someone who finds motivation in small, visible wins, I make journals for exactly these moments. A place to note your ten minutes, your small questions, your growing comfort with something that once felt too big.

But even a sticky note on the fridge works. The important thing is to start.

The Truth About Time

Here's what Nora discovered when she finally tried her own version of ten-minute Tuesdays: She didn't need more time. She needed permission to use the time she already had.

Those fifteen minutes before pickup? They weren't too short. They were perfect. Long enough for one small thing. Short enough that she couldn't make excuses.

A year later, she'd spent over eight hours learning about AI. Not in chunks, but in drops. And those drops had filled a surprising bucket.

You don't need a clear calendar. You need ten minutes and the willingness to use them.

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

Warm greetings

 Maria