Navigating the consequences of the words we use in knowledge management

I have a love/hate relationship with Maps of Content (or MOCs).

I popularized the word in 2020 and have never found any other word that captures the needed fuzziness that a higher-order note demands. (Get a brief overview of MOCs here.)

This fuzziness is needed because people need higher-order notes for so many diverse things: to outline an essay, to index notes, to actively cluster ideas and develop notes, to plan out projects & efforts, to have a single note where they can have a satisfying overview of the things they are thinking about, and much more.

Calling all these types of notes "indexes" is a travesty in the way that the word itself limits our thinking about what is possible. What you can do with higher-order notes goes beyond the alphabetical lists you see in the back of a book.

Calling all these types of notes "outlines" is constraining because not all complex thought must conform to a rigid hierarchy of roman numerals and bullet points. An outline implies a predetermined structure, which kills the magic that higher-order notes can provide by giving us a space to reshape and reveal connections that we initially didn't see. I want to go further here. Outlines carry the weight of academic formality, of final drafts and fixed ideas. But the beauty of these higher-order notes is in their capacity to remain fluid—to grow with our understanding and to accommodate the messiness of emergent thought that serves as both scaffolding and playground for our ideas.

At first glance, "hubs" are the best alternative to map of contents because they emphasizes connections. One can visualize the hub of a bicycle wheel and the spoke emanating from it. But they limit one's ability to think in an insidious way that I'll do my best to quickly explain. By thinking of a higher-order note merely as a hub, they become cold nodes to quickly pass through. "Move along" hubs say. Whereas maps of content ask open-ended questions that get you to think while you're there, "What's missing, what's needed, how do these ideas relate, and many more."

But from experience in trying to make the term "hub" work, I can clearly report that it significantly worsened my thinking. It subtly changed the way I used higher-order notes. They were no longer places to think, to explore, to map out ideas, or to generate insights. They become glorified switchboards that I never spent any time in. I lost all the advantages that maps of content had given me, including the joy of mapping out how ideas are related to each other, which always catalyzes new insights and aha moments.

Let me argue against myself first.

Calling all these types of notes "maps of content" is pretentious and needlessly abstract. Thanks for yet another piece of jargon no one asked for! It's intellectual peacocking, a way to make simple note organization sound more sophisticated than it needs to be. Plus, a map implies a fixed territory, something that can be charted and navigated. But thoughts aren't territories, so doesn't the term "map of content" actually go against the fluid nature of thinking?

Fair points Anti Nick. You're entitled to your cynicism criticism; I can't fix that. I can only address why a new term was needed in the age of the linked note, and argue how "maps of content" help the mind navigate the nebulous nature of ideas.

Your critique misses the mark with the map metaphor. Maps aren't exact representations, they're tools for exploration, orientation, and discovery. The mapmaker has to make hard choices, prioritize certain bits of information and leave out other bits of information that a different mapmaker would be appalled at.

Maps are not facts photographed by a camera. They are an interpretation of facts charted by a cartographer. Think of Earth. Many have tried to represent it "accurately" in 2D. All have had to decide what to emphasize—what mattered most—and in doing so, they created meaning. And that’s the point.

A cartographer is a maker of meaning.

Like a good map, these notes provide multiple paths forward, allow for different scales of thinking, and help us see relationships that would be invisible from ground level. A map doesn't control the territory; it illuminates it. It offers both structure and freedom, allowing us to navigate known paths while leaving room for unexplored territories.

That's why higher-order notes have become so transformational when working with linked notes—they give us enough structure to not get lost, while preserving the freedom to ignite new connections and inspire our best thinking.

Just as a map can be used for planning a journey, exploring a territory, or understanding relationships between places, MOCs serve multiple purposes without constraining them to a single use. **The term "maps of content" captures the perfect balance between structure and flexibility, between the known and the possible**.

The fuzziness is THE feature, not the bug.

By defying clean classification, it causes tension. This is why some knowledge nerds don't like the term: it makes them uneasy. “Aren't we supposed the find calm in our PKM systems? Don't stress me out!” But it's not calm we want, it's connection.

And guess what happens when we can't so easily classify a thing?

It forces our minds to get up off the couch and wrestle with it—pulling, drawing, coaxing out the best of our mental abilities, and it's THAT—our fully engaged mind wrestling with ideas and making meaningful connections—that fills us. It fills us up so powerfully because we don't just know—we feel—that in those moments, we are making the most of our mind.

A map of content is simply one of the better mechanisms we have to get us there.

But sure, call them indexes.