A drought of the mind A barren landscape No oasis in sight
Bare footed in a desert where sand burns unprotected soles The punishing heat of the sun resulting in a thirst unquenched There is no water here to replenish and renew a wary spirit No trees to provide oxygen to a tired suffocating soul A prayer for rain to relieve the constant hurt and pain Tormented and troubled on a journey which feels like
There Is No End
Liam Flanagan is a 47 year old living in Galway on the west coast of Ireland. Degree in English and Philosophy. Teaching Diploma in IT. Ten years experience working in the IT industry. Likes Sport, Music, Film and PoliticsĀ
Are ye trying to kid me? Do you think we are all idiots Fix it! The world is going to go up in flames Or drowning in rising sea tides Hide The truth is the most important thing is to make money Big business continue to be allowed to mass produce harmful pollutants To get their greedy grubby hands on as much cash as possible Impossible To believe anything coming out of the mouths of politicians Lie as you try to pull the wool over the eyes of the people So fake in your minds eye is to let them eat cake You should be forbidden from showing yourselves in public Power will be taken away and a discovery will be made of exactly what it means to be a part of a republic
Liam Flanagan is a 47 year old living in Galway on the west coast of Ireland. Degree in English and Philosophy. Teaching Diploma in IT. Ten years experience working in the IT industry. Likes Sport, Music, Film and PoliticsĀ
Casting the mind backwards To teenage years An obsession with The Cure And a girl called Mairead I wonder where she is now? Playing football until the light went out at the end of the day Turned eighteen and celebrated being able to have a pint Maybe too much but the crack was mighty with the lads Lassies everywhere excitement of newness and anticipation tangible in the air Turning twenty made very little difference A taste for life had been discovered and developed As the years go by you realise how special those days were Times of friendship and romance Where there was always enough music in the night for one more dance
BY LIAM FLANAGAN
Liam Flanagan is a 47-year-old living in Galway on the west coast of Ireland. Degree in English and Philosophy. Teaching Diploma in IT. Ten years of experience working in the IT industry. Likes Sport, Music, Film and Politics.
Finding it hard to envisage a future of harmony and calm
Too tired to raise a sound in opposition of all going on
Rest is now the priority of these times
Relief only being provided when the night time bell chimes
BY LIAM FLANAGAN
Liam Flanagan is a 47-year-old living in Galway on the west coast of Ireland. Degree in English and Philosophy. Teaching Diploma in IT. Ten years of experience working in the IT industry. Likes Sport, Music, Film and Politics.
Brad Pitt how you make the ladies hearts flutter You ended up in the gutter with a gun to your head Dumped Jennifer Anniston and chose Angelia Jolie instead Threads Of evidence poured over by Morgan Freeman Detective Somerset by name A role bringing about critical approval and fame Kevin Spacey playing the part of John Doe Determined to turn his life into a horror show Dante outlined the seven deadly sins Each one found in Hell formed in separate rings So be good now and chose carefully the life you lead The last place you want to end up is in Inferno Where all you will hear is cries and screams pleading to be freed
BY LIAM FLANAGAN
Liam Flanagan is a 47-year-old living in Galway on the west coast of Ireland. Degree in English and Philosophy. Teaching Diploma in IT. Ten years of experience working in the IT industry. Likes Sport, Music, Film and Politics.
Calling something a "failure of imagination" comes across harsh. It suggests a cognitive failure that couldn't foresee something that never was.
The lack of well-known profound classical texts on the quality of imagination suggest to me that it's not a quality that's prioritized or aspired to. But anything new and valuable started off as an imagination in someone's mind. So it's safe to say all progress rest of imagination.
Yet we're not taught how to imagine. Is it even teachable, I wonder?
Imagination seems to be a root quality that doesn't rely other qualities. You don't need strength to be imaginative; you don't need to be kind, maybe not even very curious. That makes cultivating imagination tricky.
I've been thinking about coming up with a framework that spurs imagination, like a kind of Hero's Journey for what never was. It didn't take long for me to doubt such an approach.
I'm rather convinced that deduction doesn't count as imagination. Suppose you were tasked to come with a fictional premise to an alien world and try to be imaginative about it. You do that by making the population single-gender and give everyone the ability of teleportation. The story proceed as logical progression of those premises. While the end result might come off as imaginative but what takes place in this fictional world is likely logical deduction on the premise.
A common advise towards better imagination is "read more". But all that does is exposing yourself to more existing ideas. By knowing more the chances of coming up with something to *you* would be higher. Does that necessarily mean you are capable of conjuring up something entirely new on your own? I'm not sure.
This relates to the burden of knowledge. Is knowledge an asset or a burden to imagination? In other words does knowing more refrains your imagination to the shackle of what's possible? If so then someone completely ignorant should make the most imaginative person. That doesn't fly.
At this point I'm reminded of how drugs make you creative. The factor lies in the *connections* between knowledge, not in the amount of knowledge possessed. The more rigid the connections between concepts, the less imaginative we get.
Imagination happens when we connect concepts that have never been connected together before.
Now I'm interested in the *process, not outcome*. I wonder how the first human (maybe HG Well?) who came up with the idea of time traveling machine landed on it. I wish it's not entirely accidental. If there's a process to it (even if he was entirely unaware of it) can it be repeated?
The phrase "limited by your imagination" positively connotate that possibility is vast. But imagination on an individual level isn't as vast as it sounds. Imagination is often the one thing that limits you.
Y.K. Goon
Y.K. is a software engineer; investor; a man blessed with curiosity attempting to learn the art of being, in search of antifragility.
The thirst the anticipation the pleasure Howya A pint of Guinness please How are things? How is the reopening going? Small talk as I watch the pour A tilted glass a slow deliberate pulling of the tap Careful now you donāt want to fill too quickly Three quarters full now is the time to let it settle Magically the brown cloud transforming into a dense black liquid with a creamy white top A thing of beauty to behold A couple of minutes pass Feels like a lifetime as the pint takes shape The top up the completion of an act of perfection The careful walk back to the table Make sure there is no spill now Destination reached two more minutes of diligent patience The time has come Clutch the hand around the glass Lift with care and deliberation Take a long slow satisfying taste of this black beauty Thirst quenched destination reached time to settle Slainte!
I wake before the sun. The warmth of the covers leave my body and I walk into the cold and the dark. My hands wrap around my mug and it fills with hot coffee. If I had woken when I had planned, the steam would be rising from the cup, But itās not. For a moment, itās just me in the silence and the cold and the dark- reminding myself that itās almost morning.
Then, I hear my sonās feet touch the wooden floor three rooms down. He loves the morning in a way I canāt understand. For years, I have tried to wake early enough to get a head start on day Before others are awake and need me. He, in his innocence, has taken this as an invitation to spend quiet moments with me. He lays in his bed, listening for my own feet to touch the ground so he can come and find me.
Some mornings, when I am bold enough to stay asleep longer than usual, I wake to the sound of gentle knocking. Then, a small voice breaks through the sound of his tiny fist against the door. āMom, you slept in on accident.ā Itās never an accident.
But in spite of my longing for a quiet That belongs to only me, perhaps these days are the best Iāll ever know. These days are without any moments to wonder whether I am making good use of this very short Window of time I have on this planet. Instead, it is just me and the cold and the dark
And the little man who loves me more Than the warmth of his bed.
He sits at the table beside me now, pulling out the marshmallow bits from the cereal box. I pretend not to notice, gazing to my right Through the wall of windows overlooking Livingston Bay. The sun is rising in the distance- Running toward our sky to join us.
There is no need for you to be engulfed in the dark You have a voice to express how you are feeling Healing Is in your hands an attainable objective Be subjective Take the time to find your way out of the quagmire Tired As you may be summon the energy to get some help You owe it to yourself to look after your health Brighter days lie ahead You can go back to enjoying life Once you find a resolution to the problem inside your head If you are struggling and feeling like you can no longer cope There is always someone there who can provide you with support and hope
Meow you say to let me know you are on your way Movement sleek and elegant Claws retracted reserved for going in for the kill A silent assassin with teeth as sharp as blades Kept in good order For the hunt and the tearing of flesh On the look out for a bird preparing to soar He must come from a good family A turned up nose to a chicken and ham slice Preference is for the taste of mice Purr to express contentment and satisfaction A feline who bides his time before jumping in to action!