The Restless Mind
Reflecting on Words: How Turning Pages Taught Me to Focus
A while ago, I wrote about the transformative power of journaling, how putting pen to paper illuminates your creative process and helps you truly understand yourself. Today, I want to shine a light on its natural companion: the life changing habit of reading.
Reading is a gift I discovered late in life. In my youth, I tried to pick up books countless times, but it never worked. My mind was always in the clouds, restless, anxious, and deeply distracted. Concentrating on static words felt impossible. Today, I am certain I would be diagnosed with ADHD (Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder). In the 1980s, however, that label didn’t exist in public conversation.
Because I struggled with focus, my school decided to remove me from regular classes. They placed me and a few other students into a separate department, alongside children who had severe, visible disabilities.
Even writing these words right now brings a wave of clarity, and a lingering ache. For most of my life, that separation made me feel fundamentally flawed. I carried a heavy, quiet shame that I wasn’t good enough, or that I was simply stupid. School was traumatic. Even now, hearing the word "school" sends chills down my spine. Kids can be cruel, and teachers can be just as unkind. Every time I had to pack my things and walk out of a standard classroom to join the "deficient" group, it was met with jeers and laughter. It is heartbreaking to remember; typing this out almost brings me to tears.
I don’t write this to cast blame. It was a different era. However, it highlights how deeply flawed our education system remains. By reducing learning to public grades, schools foster toxic competition instead of community. We have all heard the phrase "the best in the class" praised above all else. This hyper competitive mindset shapes our broader society. If schools prioritized collaboration and helping others as the ultimate goal, so much systemic pain could be avoided.
A Late-Bloom Addiction
I am not entirely sure what shifted inside me over the last decade, but my ability to focus finally arrived. With it came an insatiable hunger for knowledge. Today, reading is my beautiful addiction; I never leave the house without a book and my reading glasses tucked safely into my bag.
Books are the ultimate travel machine, allowing us to traverse the globe without moving an inch. There is an exquisite pleasure in stepping directly into another human being's mind. Beyond the sheer joy of it, reading expands our capacity for everyday empathy.
Much like choosing a movie based on your evening mood, I now balance several books at once, dividing them into two distinct categories:
• Dense Readings: Books requiring deep, meditative focus.
• Light Readings: Engaging narratives that flow effortlessly.
My Current Bookshelf
If you have any curiosity about art, I highly recommend The History of Art by Ernst Gombrich. It is my personal art history bible. Beautifully accessible, it requires absolutely no prior art education. I revisit it constantly, much like rewatching a classic cult film.
Conversely, on my nightstand sits The Man Without Qualities by Robert Musil. This is the definition of a dense read, certainly not a book you take to the beach. You often have to reread passages just to grasp their brilliant weight.
For lighter reading, I am currently hooked on a novel by Ken Follett. He writes with the precision of a philosopher. The book is set during the devastating years of World War II, capturing the raw human behavior and emotional reality of living through conflict.
Gymnastics for the Brain
People often assume watching a movie offers the same benefits as reading a story, but the neurological processes are entirely different. When we watch a film, we passively absorb external visual data. When we read, our brains must actively translate flat words into vivid, internal landscapes.
Neuroscientists agree that this complex mental alchemy provides immense cognitive protection, helping shield the brain against memory loss, dementia, and Alzheimer’s. Consider reading as structural gymnastics for your mind. Just as you work out to keep your body strong, you must flex your reading muscles to keep your most vital organ sharp.
