Staring at white walls gets boring after a while, but at least mind soaked with boredom can appreciate joy. People don’t tend to get bored anymore, there’s always something to do. How could one think if one was never bored? Boredom makes the world go round he thinks, or makes the world stop; either way it does something more than waste time. The walls are staring back at him now, covered with pictures and elaborate scrawling’s projected by the mind’s eye. They seem to breathe as he does, as if the entire room has begun to mirror his lungs. Each breath seems to reveal more and more of what he already seemed to know but could never quite understand until now. However the ever-changing understanding wavers and warps, and as soon as concentration, or lack thereof, is broken it slips away. He has a thought that we all really spend our lives chasing a higher more elusive understanding that transcends human explanation, but at the same time we push it away for fear of seeing through ourselves. This thought startles him and seems to jolt him out of the meditative state. Recently he has begun to slip into these states more and more often for no apparent reason. Each time he explores the spider’s web of interconnected ideas. He journeys along the strings, trying to perceive the overall pattern, but always manages to fall short somehow.