What If Aquinas Had AI?

Reflections on Learning and the Weaponization of Shower Thoughts

Learning has traditionally been presented as a structured process: read the chapter, attend the lecture, complete the assignment, demonstrate competency, and repeat until graduation. Such a model may have suited the single-room schoolhouses of the 17th and 18th centuries, but what becomes of learning in an age of information repositories vast enough to make the Library of Alexandria blush?

The older I become, the more suspicious I grow of the idea that learning is linear.

J.R.R. Tolkien observed that “Not all those who wander are lost” (Tolkien, 1954). While often interpreted as a reflection on life’s journey, the sentiment applies equally well to learning. A wandering mind is not necessarily distracted. More often, it is searching.

Consider the humble shower thought.

  • If humans can see water but air is invisible, is water invisible to fish, but can they see air?
  • If James Bond is the world’s most famous spy, wouldn’t that technically make him the worst spy?
  • If humans landed on the Moon in 1969, does that mean aliens invaded the Moon?
  • At some point, your parents picked you up for the last time, and neither of you knew it.

At first glance, these observations appear ridiculous.

Unfortunately, they also possess an irritating tendency to become philosophical.

Questions about fish become questions about perception. James Bond becomes a discussion about identity and reputation. The Moon becomes a lesson in perspective. The last time a parent carried a child quietly becomes a meditation on memory and change. The internet accidentally rediscovered philosophy by calling these observations “shower thoughts” (“Shower thoughts,” n.d.).

Perhaps learning has always begun this way—not with certainty, but with curiosity.

This is hardly a modern phenomenon.

Marcus Aurelius spent much of his life reflecting on mortality, purpose, and human nature. Seneca wrestled with why people relentlessly pursue things they know will never satisfy them (Seneca, trans. 2014). Their journals read remarkably like Roman shower thoughts, albeit with better editing and fewer references to James Bond.

Not everyone embraced idle reflection. St. Jerome famously advised, Fac et aliquid operis, ut semper te diabolus inveniat occupatum—”Always be doing something, so that the devil finds you occupied” (Jerome, as cited in Schaff, 1893). Western civilization inherited much of this suspicion toward visible idleness. A person quietly staring out a window is often viewed with concern until they either open a spreadsheet, begin carrying a clipboard, or sigh loudly enough to imply they are contemplating something important.

History, however, tells a different story.

Even Einstein appears to have benefited from the occasional luxury of “thinking about nothing.” During his years at the Swiss Patent Office, he completed his work efficiently enough to leave room for independent reflection on theoretical physics. He later joked that he was little more than an “honest day laborer” of science working outside academia (Weinstein, 2025). Civilization celebrates visible productivity, yet relativity itself appears to have required a little uninterrupted wandering.

Modern neuroscience arrives at a similar conclusion. The brain’s Default Mode Network becomes especially active during periods of rest and internally directed thought, supporting imagination, memory integration, and self-reflection (Raichle, 2015). In other words, the brain appears to conduct some of its most important work precisely when it looks as though it is doing absolutely nothing.

This is where artificial intelligence quietly changes the conversation.

Search engines answer questions.

Conversational AI encourages better ones.

Before AI, most shower thoughts lived tragically short lives. They appeared somewhere between shampoo and conditioner before disappearing beneath the responsibilities of work, groceries, and remembering whether the smoke detector battery needed replacing.

Today, those same thoughts can be pursued.

A passing curiosity about dreams can become a discussion of neuroscience, information theory, Jungian symbolism, machine learning, and philosophy. A question that would once have vanished can now survive long enough to mature into genuine inquiry.

Humanity has inadvertently weaponized shower thoughts.

By weaponized, I do not mean harmful. I mean, transforming something ordinary into a tactical advantage. AI captures fleeting curiosities and develops them into meaningful inquiry. It challenges assumptions, suggests connections, introduces new perspectives, and refuses to let an interesting question die quietly.

For some learners, AI becomes the reverberating stairwell for the a cappella thoughts of the mind. One idea echoes into another, gathering connections as it travels. Rather than replacing thought, AI extends it, functioning less as an answer machine than as a conversational partner in reflection (Mollick, 2024). In this sense, it resembles what Clark (2008) described as an extension of the mind.

There are, of course, dangers.

Not every rabbit hole leads to wisdom. Some lead to conspiracy theories. Others lead to lengthy debates about whether hot dogs qualify as sandwiches. Intellectual wandering still benefits from academic roots, critical thinking, and healthy skepticism (Veletsianos, 2016).

The root of this essay was itself one of those wandering thoughts:

What if Aquinas had AI?

That single question led to another, then another, until a shower thought evolved into a reflection on learning, philosophy, technology, and the educational value of apparently doing nothing.

AI Usage Disclaimer

In the interest of academic transparency, artificial intelligence assisted in the development of this essay by helping locate scholarly sources, organize ideas, refine APA formatting, and occasionally encourage me to follow particularly interesting rabbit holes.

The central question, reflections, conclusions, and weaponized shower thoughts are entirely my own.

I supplied the melody, the harmony, and the occasional off-key note—because, admittedly, I sometimes sing in the shower as well.

AI simply provided the reverb.

References

Clark, A. (2008). Supersizing the mind: Embodiment, action, and cognitive extension. Oxford University Press.

Jerome. (1893). The principal works of St. Jerome (P. Schaff & H. Wace, Eds.). Christian Literature Publishing Co.

Mollick, E. (2024). Co-intelligence: Living and working with AI. Portfolio.

Raichle, M. E. (2015). The brain’s default mode network. Annual Review of Neuroscience, 38, 433–447. https://doi.org/10.1146/annurev-neuro-071013-014030

Schaff, P. (Ed.). (1893). Nicene and post-Nicene fathers (2nd series, Vol. 6). Christian Literature Publishing Co.

Seneca. (2014). Letters from a Stoic (R. Campbell, Trans.). Penguin Classics. (Original work written ca. 65 CE)

Shower thoughts. (n.d.). Parade. https://parade.com/living/shower-thoughts

Tolkien, J. R. R. (1954). The fellowship of the ring. George Allen & Unwin.

Veletsianos, G. (2016). Digital learning environments. In G. Veletsianos (Ed.), Emergence and innovation in digital learning (pp. 243–260). Athabasca University Press.

Weinstein, G. (2025). Einstein, free creations, and his worldly cloister [Preprint]. arXiv. https://doi.org/10.48550/arXiv.2505.09530