I believe that any truly creative act demands a sustained, observant, and intensely focused state of mind—one that is almost stoic in its detachment from everything else happening around you. I’ve entered that state three times in my life, during three distinct periods. Each time, it faded—not because the work lost meaning, but because there was no recognition from my immediate surroundings. That absence of acknowledgment was more corrosive than I expected.

Obsession in science or art is often perceived by the public as an innate trait—something natural and constant in creative or intellectually driven individuals. However, personal experience and historical examples suggest that obsession is frequently developed, either deliberately or unintentionally, and is heavily influenced by environmental conditions.

Periods of intense engagement may alternate with periods of detachment or laxity, driven by external factors such as stress, lack of meaning, or personal circumstances. Yet, the obsessive drive can return, sometimes by conscious effort, and this deliberate return can override environmental limitations, fueled by the intrinsic value and psychological state that deep engagement offers.

Notably, while some individuals like Grothendieck never return after a withdrawal—often for philosophical, psychological, or spiritual reasons—others experience a resurgence of obsession after long pauses, often with greater clarity, intensity, or purpose than before. This suggests that obsession is not a fixed trait but a mutable state—one that can be lost, transformed, or deliberately rekindled.

Now, at 29, I’m working to return to that state—not temporarily, but with the intention to remain there. This time, I aim to sustain it regardless of recognition. External validation, especially from those closest to us, is often unreliable. And so, I must keep going—with clarity, discipline, and determination.