On single-mindedness

Seneca opens his second letter to Lucilius by scolding a habit: his friend has been reading too widely, sampling one author and then another, keeping a whole library half-open and nothing finished. His remedy is not more discipline but less breadth. Linger over a few trusted writers, he says, if you want anything to stay with you. The line is about attention, not travel: a mind spread across everything takes root in nothing.

This week the Boston musician Jeff "Monoman" Conolly died at 69. Conolly, the organ player and vocalist who led the garage rock band Lyres for nearly five decades, died at his home on July 31, 2026. He was nicknamed "Monoman" for his single-minded devotion to the sound in his head. He chased one narrow, obsessive idea of what music should be, and never diversified into anything more lucrative. Most of us are told to keep our options open, to be reachable everywhere at once. Conolly is the argument for the opposite: a life poured entirely into one thing leaves a mark that a scattered one never does.