On Imagination, I.
Hello again, Reader, As promised, this week’s post will have nothing to do with the Chronologies as such but rather it will be a different piece of me that I’m going to share with you. Now, I shall get a little vulnerable here, so be nice. The topic at hand is imagination, and the fear of its loss. There are times as a writer when you sit down and you stare an empty page, be it paper or digital, and nothing comes out. The mind is in a state that monks from sects all around the world train their whole lives to achieve, that state being entirely blank… I cannot express to you how vacuous my thoughts sometimes are, and on those days, if the phenomenon were to stretch by, say, a day, and at worst into a week, a sense of loss comes over me. It is a curious loss; one I’ve struggled to bring into words. If you’ve ever broken an arm or a leg and subsequently had had to live for weeks with the unfortunate limb entombed in a cast, you’ll know, in some measure, what that loss feels like. ...