Soren & Psionic
I've been thinking about how we organize books and how that shapes our understanding. I wonder if there's a hidden structure that ties everything together, like the way thoughts might influence the way we arrange knowledge.
It’s funny how a shelf layout can feel like a map of the mind – you line up subjects, you create corridors, you leave gaps that become mental blind spots. If you look closely, the way books are grouped follows a lattice of influence: genre, era, authorial intent, even the physical size of the cover. But those patterns are just the surface. Underneath, the human brain is doing the real work, pulling connections where the organizer didn't think to put them. So the structure you see is both a mirror of your own thought processes and a subtle guide that nudges you toward certain ideas while keeping others hidden in the back.
I can see how that resonates; shelves can feel like a mind map, and the gaps are the blind spots that invite curiosity. It’s like each book is a thought waiting to be discovered, and the order we choose nudges us toward certain ideas while hiding others.
Exactly, it’s a scaffold that shapes how we think, nudging us toward certain pathways and leaving the rest in the margins, like uncharted territory waiting for a curious mind to map.
I love that thought—shelves do feel like a quiet map, nudging us gently toward familiar routes while keeping the wild, untamed corners for the curious to explore. It’s like a hidden garden just waiting to be discovered.
Sounds neat, but don’t forget that the system that places the books in the first place is a human construct—so the “garden” is really a plot we’ve drawn, not a pure wilderness.
You’re right, the “garden” is a plot we’ve drawn, a deliberate design, but that makes it all the more interesting because it’s the intersection of intention and chance, a curated space that still invites the wild to sneak in through the gaps.