There is a computer disease that anybody who works with computers
There is a computer disease that anybody who works with computers knows about. It's a very serious disease and it interferes completely with the work. The trouble with computers is that you 'play' with them!
"There is a computer disease that anybody who works with computers knows about. It's a very serious disease and it interferes completely with the work. The trouble with computers is that you 'play' with them!" – Richard P. Feynman
In the world of innovation, where the mind meets the machinery of progress, there exists a profound truth about the human condition: curiosity and play often lead us astray. The words of Richard P. Feynman, the brilliant physicist, resonate with the eternal tension between work and play, between the serious pursuit of knowledge and the seductive lure of distraction. Feynman speaks not of the physical sickness that might plague the body, but of a mental affliction—one that affects those who dwell too long in the realm of the computer. The "disease" he refers to is not simply about the tools we use, but about our relationship with them. In the case of computers, it is the temptation to play, to lose oneself in the endless possibilities they offer, which ultimately interferes with the task at hand.
In ancient times, those who sought wisdom were often called upon to master the balance between contemplation and action. Socrates, the great philosopher, spent his life seeking to understand the nature of the world through dialogue and thought. But he knew that to focus purely on intellectual pursuits without engagement with the practical realities of life would lead one into an abstract distraction, detached from the pressing matters of human existence. Much like the adventurers of old, who sought the promised lands but became lost in the desire for discovery, we too can fall victim to the allure of the tools we create—tools that can pull us away from our purpose and into the realm of unproductive indulgence. Feynman’s insight is not a critique of computers themselves, but of the human tendency to become too enamored with the novelty they present.
Consider the ancient mariners, who, driven by the allure of distant shores, would sometimes sail too far from their course, captivated by the beauty of the horizon or the unpredictability of the waves. It was Christopher Columbus who, while seeking a path to the East Indies, found a new world, but it was a world unforeseen, driven more by accident than intention. In the same way, the computer can lure its user into an ever-widening journey—one where the original task is left behind, and the discovery of new possibilities becomes the main attraction. It is in this diversion, this distraction, that we see the truth of Feynman’s words: that the power of the computer is not just in its capacity for work, but in its ability to distract, to play with the mind, and to lead us astray.
Feynman’s observation is not without irony. The very tool that was designed to increase human productivity—the computer—often becomes the very source of procrastination and distraction. We are now in an age where endless information is at our fingertips, where one click leads to another, and where the boundary between work and play is increasingly difficult to discern. Just as Pythagoras once spoke of the need to balance study with rest, so too must we learn to control our own interactions with these powerful tools. The computer, like any invention, holds the potential to either elevate us or drown us, depending on how we choose to engage with it. If we become too absorbed in the playful aspects, the very essence of our work, our goals, and our deeper purpose can be lost.
Consider Leonardo da Vinci, who was not only a genius in the arts but also a master of invention. His notebooks are filled with endless ideas, designs, and experiments, some of which were left incomplete or turned into mere fantasies. Yet, in his restless play with his creations, Leonardo was exploring, seeking connections between art, science, and nature. However, there was also a danger in his distractions—a reluctance to commit fully to the completion of any one endeavor. Like the modern computer user, Leonardo’s brilliance lay in his curiosity, but his challenge was in the focus required to turn that curiosity into finished works. We are, in many ways, like Leonardo: constantly experimenting, always seeking new ideas, but struggling to find the discipline to follow through. Feynman’s words serve as a warning to us all: curiosity and play must be tempered by purpose and focus.
Thus, the lesson to be drawn from Feynman’s observation is clear: while the computer and its vast potential can serve as powerful tools for work and discovery, it is our own self-discipline that determines whether we use these tools to advance or to distract. We must acknowledge the temptation to wander off the path of purpose and instead learn to engage with the world in a way that is mindful, intentional, and rooted in our goals. The key to navigating this modern age is not to reject the tools of progress, but to embrace them with the understanding that they must be used wisely.
In our lives, as we encounter distractions—be they computers, social media, or other modern temptations—we must take a lesson from Feynman. We must work with purpose, but we must also play with awareness, ensuring that our time spent in pursuit of joy and curiosity does not divert us from the path of achievement and growth. Let us learn to balance our drive for discovery with the discipline needed to finish what we start, and in this way, we will unlock the true power of the tools we wield. The key is not to be overwhelmed by the possibilities, but to use them with wisdom, embracing the potential of the computer without letting it lead us into distraction.
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