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Stories involve themes of friendship, connections, care, love, gentleness, kindness, love, forgiveness. Stories often feature animals and other natural elements (plants, seasons, weather...). They seem to serve as approachable proxies for human behaviours and complexities. From my playful engineering rhythm, I'm seeing children's books as about front-loading grace - trying to develop…
In a workplace staff lounge/canteen that I observed, there were small tidbits with motivational/positivity-affirming messaging (similar to the "Thought of the week" post its on workplace notice boards). I sensed there being two categories for that messaging, which seems to correlate with different generations. The first category contains messages like Work hard. Rest well. A friend is one that…
What width x height x breadth is the quality of that paragraph you are supposed to write. How many kilos would it weigh. Is it based of wood or metal. Tbe Immateriality of thought can make it difficult to estimate the work (mainly time) involved in knowledge work. This is probably why ‘deadlines’ end up being the external pressure/constraint that forces crystallisation of thought into something.…
As on 2025, content on YouTube has been hitting ever higher levels of bizarre, absurd, revolting. YouTube started off as a place for amateur video enthusiasts, and moved into production polish, clickbaits, cringe, and now into the bizarre, absurd levels. Paints a parallel with the archetypal attributes of the macabre, grotesque, carnivals, sideshows, freak shows, exaggerated game shows on TV and…
(The following is just an observation, not a critique. Just noticing the texture of things.) A lot of “digitally transformed” work is actually in a state of digitally “disrupted” work - with tools and workflows in misalignment, getting in the way of doing things. Digital tools/transformations aren’t absorbed into work design natively, and often “stick out” as sore thumbs.
So that they may live. Break into blossom. Rain comes down. Sun shines. Grass grows. Children grow old and die. That's the holy all of it. In service, you become the river. Salt brine and sulphur fire. The indigenous, the mystical, the machinic.
That’s the poignancy of being a bridge. It holds others’ passages into sight, into bends, into destinations. It enables the great unfolding of exploration, yet its gaze never extends beyond its fixed horizon. The bridge’s kin — other spans across other waters, other ravines — it will never meet. It can only imagine them through the weight of crossings, the echoes of traffic, the vibrations carried…
Na laethanta áille, liath sin = Those beautiful grey days Galway, Ireland
Na laethanta áille, liath sin = Those beautiful grey days Galway, Ireland
Na laethanta áille, liath sin = Those beautiful grey days Galway, Ireland