I have always believed that boredom is a symptom of the laziness of the mind, for brilliant minds are self-sufficient, as seen in the case of Richard Feynman, who remained lucid, mentally active, and undisturbed even by the absence of sensory input in John C. Lilly’s isolation tank. And although I’m far from that level of acumen myself, I’ve often quipped that I’m never bored because I share my time with a very intelligent person—myself. Besides, I tend to keep books close at hand. (And speaking of books and great minds, I’ve long found it fascinating when intellectuals claim that a particular book changed their life—only to then have a flash of insight: nothing like that has ever happened to me, so either I’m not easily impressed, or I’m simply too dim to grasp what I read.)
More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com
hidden pilcrow 
Interesting meditation on boredom as an inner deficit rather than an external condition. Feynman’s example underscores how the life of the mind can transcend even sensory deprivation. As for the notion of ‘life-changing books,’ perhaps the real transformation is seldom a singular event, it unfolds quietly, through accumulation rather than epiphany. I’ve read books like The Purpose Driven Life by Rick Warren, a book many say changed their world, yet I felt no such seismic effect. Maybe true meaning arises not from a single reading but from an ongoing dialogue between reader and the content, like a habit or practice, rather than an instant insight. 🤔
Thought provoking 👏
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There are many books I consider important, and some I’ve read many times, Witold Gombrowicz’s Diaries in particular, but calling them life-changing would be an exaggeration. So I don’t buy that life-changing shtick.
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