Child-like imagination
Like most kids, I loved making up stories. I’d see the moon chasing our car at night, I’d try to use instant transmission to reach school faster, I would race the raindrops on my window.
I think most of us lose this ability to imagine these things in favor of realism. The moon isn’t chasing us, its far away and our perception plays tricks on us. Instant transmission isn’t phsyically possible, what a pipe dream. Racing raindrops? Who has the time to sit and stare at a window anymore.
We tell ourselves that imagining such things is a waste of time, and that we should strive for knowledge and correctness. We start reading more and more, trying to understand the world. Trying to build a mental model that lets us understand everything around us.
I’m pretty well informed about science and cognitive biases and I try to be less wrong every day. But life isn’t….enjoyable. Not in an anhedonia sort of way. More in a boring kind of way.
I’ve been trying to write more fiction lately, and I’m struggling with adding whimsy to my writing. Instead, I start googling how things work or how others have viewed the things I want to write about, or if there’s any research around it.
So for the next couple of weeks, I’m going to let my imagination do some work. I will stop googling explanations for every little thing and instead think through things a bit more. So what if I’m wrong, its not like I’m arguing my case in front of a judge.