Gratitude, anxiety, habits, artificial intelligence—and a practical framework for strengthening the mind
Sometimes a new idea does not really introduce something completely new. Instead, it suddenly reveals the connections between things we have already been learning.
That happened to me recently when I read Ruth Brown’s Listener article, “Mastering the mind”, featuring the New Zealand neuroscience educator Nathan Wallis.
The article explored a practical and encouraging proposition: the way we think, learn and respond is not necessarily fixed. The brain continues to be shaped by what we repeatedly do, the challenges we attempt, the state of our body, the stories we tell ourselves and the environment in which learning takes place.
I do not take that to mean that one article—or one expert—has provided the final scientific explanation of the human brain. Neuroscience is complicated, popular explanations necessarily simplify it, and there will always be different interpretations.
But the framework was extraordinarily useful.
It helped me see that a number of practices I had gathered over several years were not disconnected activities. They were parts of a larger roadmap that I had been building without fully realising it.
Beginning with gratitude
One of the earlier influences on me was Mo Gawdat, the former Google X executive whose work connects engineering, artificial intelligence, happiness and the inner workings of thought.
What stayed with me was the importance of deliberately making room for gratitude—not waiting until everything is perfect before recognising what is already good.
That fitted naturally with something I had begun calling my gratitude glass: a visible, practical way of noticing and recording moments for which I was grateful.
It was a small activity, but it represented an important shift. Gratitude was no longer merely a pleasant feeling that might appear occasionally. It became something I could practise.
Looking back, that may have been one of the first stages in learning that our attention is not entirely beyond our influence. We cannot control everything that happens, but we can become more conscious of what we repeatedly notice, rehearse and strengthen.
Learning to work with anxious thoughts
Another part of the journey came from wanting to deal more constructively with anxiety.
Like most people, I have experienced stressful situations throughout my life. I was not trying to declare my experiences greater or more serious than anyone else’s. I simply recognised that some of the resulting patterns of thought were no longer helping me.
That drew me towards ideas from cognitive behavioural therapy.
One of the most useful lessons was that a thought is not necessarily a fact. A frightening prediction, an old judgement or an automatic reaction can feel completely convincing without being the only possible interpretation.
With care, reflection and research, I began using AI to help me structure exercises around those ideas. It could help me put a vague worry into words, examine the assumptions underneath it, consider another interpretation and identify a constructive next action.
AI was not magically removing difficulty, and it was not replacing professional healthcare. It was helping me slow the process down sufficiently to see what was happening.
That is a form of metacognition: becoming more aware of how one is thinking while the thinking is taking place.
The lesson of small changes
Later, through the Business Whanganui reading group, I encountered ideas such as those in James Clear’s Atomic Habits.
The central lesson was wonderfully practical. Meaningful change does not always arrive through a dramatic breakthrough. It is often built through small actions made sufficiently easy to begin and repeated long enough to matter.
That gave me another layer:
- gratitude directs attention;
- cognitive reframing examines thought;
- habits turn intention into repeated behaviour.
But I still did not have an overall map explaining how these parts related to the condition of the brain and body.
The Listener article helped provide that missing layer.
Calm before clever
One of its most useful messages was that higher-level thinking works poorly when the whole system is overwhelmed.
When we are highly anxious, ashamed, frightened or exhausted, it becomes more difficult to concentrate, remember instructions, consider alternatives or make sensible decisions.
The first requirement may therefore not be more pressure, information or determination.
It may be regulation.
Pause. Breathe. Walk. Stretch. Listen to music. Eat. Rest. Talk with someone safe. Make the task smaller.
This sounds almost too simple, but it changes the question. Instead of immediately asking, “Why can’t I do this?”, I can ask:
What state am I in—and what would help me become ready to think?
That principle also has enormous significance for teaching.
A learner struggling with a computer may not lack intelligence or motivation. They may be frightened of making a mistake, embarrassed about what they do not know or carrying memories of previous failure.
Creating calm, trust and early success is not an optional kindness added to the learning. It is part of making learning possible.
The voice doing the teaching
Another part of the framework concerns the voice in our own head.
We often say things to ourselves that we would never say to another person we were trying to help:
- “I’m useless at this.”
- “I’m too old.”
- “I should know this already.”
- “My memory is going.”
- “I’ll never understand it.”
Replacing those statements does not require pretending that everything is easy. The alternative can be truthful:
- “I do not understand this yet.”
- “I may need to take it more slowly.”
- “I have learnt difficult things before.”
- “Let me identify the exact step where I became confused.”
- “What is the next small action?”
The purpose is not empty positive thinking. It is to stop converting a temporary difficulty into a permanent verdict about ourselves.
Four skills underneath good thinking
The new visual map identifies four abilities that can be practised in everyday life.
Self-control helps us pause before reacting and choose the response most likely to help.
Working memory allows us to hold and use a manageable amount of information while completing a task.
Metacognition helps us notice how we learn, where we became stuck and what assisted us.
Cognitive flexibility enables us to change perspective, abandon an unhelpful method and try another way.
I find these useful because they turn the enormous idea of “improving the mind” into recognisable behaviours.
When I am stuck, I can ask:
Do I need to pause?
Do I need to write the steps down?
Do I need to notice why I am confused?
Do I need to try another approach?
That is much more useful than asking whether I am clever enough.
Where artificial intelligence enters the story
My own journey has occurred in parallel with the rapid development of generative AI.
The comparison with a self-driving vehicle is tempting, but I think AI is closer to an extraordinarily capable navigation and thinking partner. It does not need to decide my destination. It can help me examine the terrain, organise what I am carrying, identify possible routes and turn an emerging idea into something I can see and work with.
That is what happened with these visual maps.
I supplied the article, my reactions, the questions and the personal context. AI helped extract the structure, test the wording and transform it into a visual form that I could keep in front of me.
The result was not simply a summary of someone else’s article. It became an instrument I could use.
That may be one of AI’s most constructive possibilities: not doing our thinking instead of us, but helping us make our thinking visible enough to examine, strengthen and share.
The human part remains essential.
We still choose the purpose. We judge what is true and useful. We decide what represents our values. We recognise when something feels wrong. We take responsibility for what we publish and what we do next.
Is it actually working?
I am cautious about making grand claims.
I do not want to become complacent, self-satisfied or obsessive about constantly measuring myself. Nor do I imagine that practising gratitude, using AI or making visual maps will protect anyone from every difficulty that ageing or life may bring.
But I can say something simpler and more honest:
It feels as though these practices are working for me.
The result has not necessarily been riches in dollar terms. It has been a different kind of wealth: greater understanding, stronger purpose, more confidence in my capacity to learn and a deeper appreciation of what is already present.
I find myself able to bring complicated ideas together, continue learning unfamiliar things, reconsider my first response and turn experience into something that may also help another person.
That matters to me.
A roadmap for what lies ahead
The practical roadmap is not complicated.
Start with calm.
Support the body.
Guide the voice in the head.
Choose challenges that stretch without overwhelming.
Practise self-control, working memory, metacognition and cognitive flexibility.
Review what happened, adjust and repeat.
Underneath it sits one daily sentence:
Today I strengthened my brain by…
The ending might be different each day:
…learning a new skill.
…persisting through confusion.
…changing my approach.
…teaching something to another person.
…remembering a sequence.
…pausing before responding.
…asking for help.
…beginning again.
This is not a competition to become more intelligent than somebody else. It is a commitment to remain engaged with life—to continue learning, adapting, contributing and becoming more conscious of how I use the mind I have.
Perhaps that is the roadmap I had been building all along.
I simply needed to see it.
Source and inspiration
This reflection was prompted by Ruth Brown’s article “Mastering the mind”, featuring Nathan Wallis, published in the New Zealand Listener, 1 August 2026. The personal interpretation and visual frameworks are my own, developed through reflection, previous learning and work with ChatGPT.