Where are you from?

It's with immense gratitude and a touch of awe that I'm writing this today. It has recently come to my attention that this little corner of the internet, my blog, is being read by people all over the world.

Honestly, the thought that my words are reaching so many diverse places is truly humbling and incredibly exciting. When I started this journey, I never quite imagined the reach it might have, and to know that readers from different countries and cultures are engaging with my content is the greatest reward.

This realization has sparked a wonderful curiosity in me: where exactly are you all reading from? I would absolutely love to hear from you. If you're comfortable sharing, please take a moment to jot down your country and city in the comments below.

It would mean a tremendous amount to me to see just how far this community stretches. Knowing more about my global readership will not only be fascinating but will also help me better understand the diverse perspectives and interests of the incredible people who visit this blog.

Thanks a bunch for your continued support and for being a part of this amazing journey. I can't wait to see where in the world you are!

 

The Unfolding Scroll: Is There Still Room for the Written Word?

In an era defined by rapid-fire visuals and instant gratification, the humble blog post often feels like a relic from a bygone digital age. Once the undisputed king of online content, offering a democratic platform for voices ranging from the mundane to the magnificent, blogging now contends with a media landscape that has dramatically shifted beneath its feet.

The sheer dominance of video is undeniable. From bite-sized TikToks to in-depth YouTube documentaries, moving pictures capture attention with an immediacy that static text struggles to match. Our brains, it seems, are increasingly wired for visual consumption, drawn to the dynamic narratives and emotional resonance that video effortlessly delivers. Creators flock to these platforms, chasing engagement metrics that often dwarf those found in the written sphere. The barrier to entry, once the technical hurdles of video editing, has lowered considerably, empowering anyone with a smartphone to become a broadcaster.

Adding to this seismic shift is the burgeoning, and frankly, astonishing, capability of artificial intelligence. AI content generation tools can now churn out articles, summaries, and even creative prose with remarkable speed and coherence. The promise of instantly generated, SEO-optimized text threatens to flood the digital landscape, potentially devaluing human-crafted content and raising questions about authenticity and originality. Why spend hours researching, drafting, and refining a blog post when an AI can deliver a competent draft in seconds?

This confluence of factors presents a formidable challenge for anyone still clinging to the keyboard. The metrics often speak for themselves: video views skyrocket, while blog readership, in many niches, appears to stagnate or even decline. The perceived effort-to-reward ratio for blogging seems increasingly skewed. The romantic notion of a dedicated reader savoring every word feels quaint in a world optimized for quick consumption and endless scrolling. The very act of reading a lengthy piece of text demands a commitment of time and focus that many users seem less willing to give.

So, as the algorithms increasingly prioritize video, and as intelligent machines begin to master the art of prose, should I even continue to write blogs in the face of this video explosion and the explosion of AI?

Although it started out for the money, it is now nothing more than a cataloging of my thoughts at any given moment.

The Rumble and Rhythm of Yaad:

Jamaican Country Buses and the Journey to Town 

Scrolling through Facebook the other day, my thumb froze. There it was – a post showcasing the iconic Jamaican country buses. A wave of nostalgia, so potent it almost brought tears to my eyes, washed over me. It wasn't just an image; it was a portal back to my childhood in the heartland of Jamaica.

I was born and raised in the rural parts, where life moved to the rhythm of the land. For us, the vibrant, often battered, but always reliable country buses were more than just transportation; they were lifelines. They connected our small communities to the wider world, and most importantly, they carried the heart and soul of our parish – the market people – on their weekly pilgrimage to Kingston.

Those buses, oh what stories they could tell! Each journey was an adventure. The early morning hustle and bustle at the roadside stop, the friendly banter as neighbors greeted each other, the squeeze to find a seat amidst baskets overflowing with mangoes, bunches of bananas peeking out from crocus bags, and the comforting aroma of freshly baked bun and spice bread. The air would be thick with anticipation, the promise of a day in the bustling capital hanging in the balance.

But the nostalgic journey wouldn’t be truly complete without the sight and sound of the market truck. These sturdy vehicles, often old and groaning under their immense loads, were the unsung heroes of our rural economy. Picture this: a Bedford or a Morris, its wooden railings straining under mountains of yam, sweet potatoes, dasheen, plantains – a vibrant tapestry of the land’s bounty. Perched precariously atop the provisions would be the market people themselves, their faces etched with the hard work of farming, their eyes bright with the hope of a successful day at Coronation Market or Papine. The truck would rumble along the winding country roads, kicking up red dust, a testament to their determination to bring the fruits of their labor to the city.

Grandma… oh, how many times I remember waving goodbye to Grandma as she boarded the bus or hitched a ride on a market truck, her head wrapped in a colorful bandana, a sturdy basket filled with her finest produce by her side. She would return in the evening, tired but often with a small treat for me tucked away. These journeys were her livelihood, her connection to the pulse of the island.

And the music… the accompanying music in that Facebook post was the perfect soundtrack to these memories. The infectious beat of reggae or the soulful melodies of ska, often blasting from a crackling speaker on the bus, would set the mood for the journey. It was the rhythm of our lives, the heartbeat of Jamaica.

Seeing that post, hearing that music, it wasn't just a fleeting moment of nostalgia. It stirred something deep within me, a longing for the simplicity and community spirit of those days. It reminded me of the resilience and hard work of our people, the vibrant culture that defined my childhood.

Yes, I felt it too. That video brought back a flood of cherished memories. It wasn't just about transportation; it was about connection, community, and the enduring spirit of Jamaica. It made me smile, a little sadly perhaps, but with a deep appreciation for where I came from. What did this video do for you?

Jamaican Country buses

 I was scrolling on Facebook the other day and saw this post highlighting Jamaican country buses. The nostalgic feeling it came me almost brought me to tears.

I was born in the rural parts of the country where market people went to Kingston using these buses.

The nostalgic journey would have been complete showing also a market truck, loaded with farm provision and farm people as they went to Kingston to sell their provisions.

Grandma used to 

The accompanying music only enhanced the mood. If you feel the same way please say so below, what did this video do for you.

Pig Cow and sheep - the importance of teamwork

 One sunny morning, Cow, Pig, and Sheep were enjoying a peaceful graze in the meadow. Suddenly, Farmer Giles's little lamb, Lily, started crying from behind a patch of thorny brambles.

"Baa! I'm stuck! I can't get out!" she wailed.

Cow, being the biggest, tried to push through the brambles. He grunted and strained, but the thorns pricked his nose, and the bush was too thick for him to force his way through without hurting Lily. "It's no good," he sighed, pulling back. "I'm too big, and those thorns are sharp!"

Next, Pig, with his strong snout, attempted to root under the bush. He dug and snorted, sending dirt flying, but the roots of the brambles were too deep and tangled. "Phew!" he huffed, wiping mud from his face. "This ground is too hard, and the roots are holding fast!"

Sheep, though smaller, was known for her cleverness. She looked at the brambles, then at Cow and Pig. "We can't do it alone," she bleated. "But what if we work together?"

Cow raised an eyebrow. "How so, Sheep?"

"Cow, you're strong. You can push. Pig, you can dig. I'm small enough to squeeze into tight spaces once you've made a little opening," Sheep explained. "Cow, push gently from this side, just enough to make a gap. Pig, dig right here where I point, loosening the roots a bit. And when there's a small space, I'll go in and nudge Lily out."

It was a tricky plan, but they decided to try. Cow carefully pushed with his mighty head, grunting with effort. Just as he created a tiny crack in the dense bush, Pig started digging precisely where Sheep pointed, loosening the soil around the stubborn roots.

As soon as a small passage opened, Sheep, nimble and determined, squeezed through the prickly gap. She found Lily, who was tangled but unharmed. With gentle nudges and soft "baas" of encouragement, Sheep guided Lily through the newly made path.

"Moooo! You did it!" cheered Cow as Lily, a little tear-streaked but safe, emerged from the brambles.

"Oink, oink! We did it!" squealed Pig, doing a happy little jig.

Lily ran straight to Cow for a comforting lick and then nuzzled into Sheep's soft wool. "Thank you, thank you!" she cried happily.

Cow, Pig, and Sheep looked at each other, tired but proud. They realized that what none of them could do alone, they could easily achieve by combining their unique strengths and working as a team. From that day on, whenever they faced a challenge, they always remembered the lesson of the brambles: working together makes everything possible.

Pig Cow and sheep - The power of friendship and empathy

Cow stood by the old oak tree, his head hung low, a single tear slowly trickling down his furry cheek. Pig and Sheep approached him cautiously.

"Cow? What's wrong?" Sheep asked gently, nudging Cow's side with her woolly head.

Cow let out a shaky sigh. "Farmer Giles… he said… he said the old oak tree is getting too old. It's not safe anymore. He has to cut it down."

Pig gasped, his usually cheerful snout drooping. The old oak tree wasn't just a tree; it was their favorite napping spot on hot summer days, their shade during unexpected rain, and the perfect scratching post for Cow.

"No! Not the old oak tree!" Pig squealed, his voice laced with sadness.

Sheep looked at Cow, seeing the deep sorrow in his friend's eyes. She knew how much the tree meant to Cow, who spent countless hours resting beneath its mighty branches.

"It's okay, Cow," Sheep said softly, stepping closer. "It's really, really sad. We understand how much you love this tree."

Pig, usually full of silly jokes, was quiet for a moment. Then, he did something unexpected. He leaned his pink body against Cow's large leg. "We'll miss it too, Cow," he whispered. "But you know what? We'll still have each other; and although the barn is not as cool as under the oak tree, we still have it."

Cow sniffled, feeling a little warmth spread through him at Pig's unexpected comfort.

"Exactly," Sheep added, nudging Cow again. "And we have so many good memories under this tree, don't we? Remember when Pig tried to climb it and got stuck?"

Pig let out a small, watery chuckle. "And you had to push me up, Cow, just to get me down!"

A tiny smile touched Cow’s lips, a flicker of light in his sad eyes. "And remember when Sheep thought the acorns were giant peas and tried to eat them all?" he rumbled softly.

Sheep blushed, but she laughed too. "They looked like peas from far away!"

They stood there together, the three friends, leaning against each other. They didn't try to make Cow feel better by saying the tree wouldn't be cut down. Instead, they acknowledged her sadness and shared in it. They talked about all the good times they'd had, not just under the tree, but all the adventures they'd shared as friends.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the field, Cow felt a little bit lighter. The pain of losing the tree was still there, but it didn't feel as heavy. She had her friends, and their comforting presence was a strong, steady anchor.

"Thank you," Cow finally said, looking at Pig and Sheep. "Thank you for being here."

Pig just grunted softly, leaning a little more against Cow. Sheep rubbed her head against Cow’s side. They didn't need many words. Just being there, sharing the sadness, and remembering the good times, was enough. And as they walked back to the barn together, Cow knew that even though the old oak tree would be gone, the bond between him, Pig, and Sheep would last forever.

 

Pig Cow and Sheep- Do the right thing

Cow had a juicy, bright red apple. It had fallen from Farmer Giles’ special apple tree, the one he said was just for making his famous apple pie. Cow knew she wasn’t supposed to have it, but oh, it smelled so sweet!

Pig saw Cow with the apple. “Where did you get that?” he snorted, his little piggy eyes widening.

“It… it just rolled over here,” Cow mumbled, hiding the apple a little behind her leg.

Sheep, who was munching on some clover nearby, looked up. “That looks like one of Farmer Giles’ special apples, Cow.”

Cow looked around. Farmer Giles was busy mending a fence on the other side of the field. No one was really watching them. “Well, nobody will know if I just take one little bite,” Cow thought to himself.

Pig, however, had a sneaky idea. “If you didn’t really find it,” he whispered to Cow, “maybe we could all say we found it together! Then Farmer Giles won’t be mad at just one of us.”

Sheep shook his woolly head. “That doesn’t sound right, Pig. The apple belongs to Farmer Giles.”

Cow hesitated. Pig’s idea sounded easier. He could just pretend he found it with Pig, and then they could both have a bite. But Sheep’s words made his tummy feel a little funny, not just from the smell of the apple.

“But Farmer Giles will never know!” Pig insisted, nudging the apple with his snout. “He’s way over there.”

Cow looked at the apple again. It did look delicious. He glanced at Farmer Giles, who was still hammering away, his back turned. No one would see. But then, she thought about it for a while then said: “Doing the right thing makes your heart feel sunny, even on a cloudy day.”

She sighed. “No, Pig. Sheep is right. This apple isn’t ours to take. Even if Farmer Giles doesn’t see us, we’ll know we did something we shouldn’t have.”

Pig grumbled but Sheep smiled. “That’s very honest of you, Cow.”

Together, Cow, Pig, and Sheep walked over to where Farmer Giles was working. Cow held out the apple to Farmer Giles. “I found this near your special apple tree. I think it fell off.”

Farmer Giles looked surprised, then a warm smile spread across his face. “Well, thank you, Cow! That was very thoughtful of you to bring it back.” He patted Cow’s head. “Honesty is a very important thing, you know.”

Then, Farmer Giles did something unexpected. He pulled another, slightly smaller apple from his pocket. “Because you were so honest,” he said, handing it to Cow, “you deserve a treat.”

Cow’s eyes lit up. This apple tasted even sweeter because he knew he had done the right thing. Pig, who had been quiet all this time, nudged Cow. “Maybe Sheep was right after all,” he mumbled.

Sheep gave a gentle “baa.” “Doing what’s right always feels better in the end.”

From that day on, Cow, Pig, and Sheep remembered that even when no one else is watching, choosing to do what is right is always the best choice. It might not always lead to a shiny red apple, but it always leads to a happy and sunny heart.

Are books in Jamaica: A Fading Relic or a Resilient Companion?

As the world hurtles further into the digital age, propelled by the relentless march of robotics and artificial intelligence, a question often surfaces: are books, particularly the tangible, paper-bound kind, destined to become a thing of the past? While digital formats and AI-driven innovations are undoubtedly reshaping the landscape of content creation and consumption, the demise of the physical book appears to be greatly exaggerated. Instead, we are witnessing a fascinating evolution, where traditional and new forms of reading coexist and even complement each other.

The rise of digital reading has been undeniable. E-books and audiobooks offer unparalleled convenience and accessibility. Imagine carrying a library of thousands of titles in your pocket, instantly downloadable and available on various devices. This portability and immediate access have transformed reading habits, especially for those on the go. Furthermore, digital platforms have democratized publishing, enabling independent authors to reach global audiences without the traditional gatekeepers. AI is further enhancing this, with algorithms analyzing reader preferences to offer personalized recommendations, streamlining marketing, and even assisting in the editing and content creation process.

However, statistics and sentiment suggest a strong enduring appeal for physical books. Surveys consistently show that a significant portion of readers, including younger demographics, still prefer print. The tactile experience of holding a book, turning pages, and the absence of screen-related distractions offer a unique cognitive and sensory engagement. Studies indicate that reading from paper can lead to better comprehension and retention of information. In an increasingly screen-dominated world, physical books provide a welcome digital detox, a tangible escape from the constant barrage of notifications and online stimuli.

Beyond the practical and cognitive benefits, physical books hold a cultural and emotional significance. They are objects of beauty, often with intricate cover designs and a sense of permanence. Bookshelves filled with beloved titles represent a personal journey, a collection of stories and ideas that have shaped us. They serve as conversation starters, gifts, and tangible reminders of shared experiences. Independent bookstores, far from being obsolete, are adapting and thriving, offering curated selections and a communal atmosphere that digital retailers cannot replicate.

The integration of AI into the publishing world is not necessarily a threat to the book's existence, but rather a catalyst for innovation. AI tools are assisting authors with brainstorming, research, and refining their prose. Publishers are leveraging AI for market analysis, predicting trends, and optimizing inventory. Even the revival of rare, out-of-print books is becoming possible through AI-driven initiatives. This suggests a future where AI enhances the creation and distribution of books, rather than replacing the fundamental act of reading.

While the digital landscape and advancements in AI continue to transform how we interact with information and stories, books are proving to be remarkably resilient. The convenience of digital reading and the power of AI are certainly changing the industry, but the unique appeal and enduring value of physical books ensure their continued relevance. We are not witnessing the death of the book, but rather a dynamic co-existence where technology broadens access and enhances the creative process, while the timeless pleasure of holding a physical book remains a cherished experience for many.

Why does the the World Embrace Jamaican Culture- Really?!

 

From the rhythmic lilt of Patois echoing in global music to the vibrant flavors of jerk chicken tantalizing taste buds worldwide, Jamaican culture has undeniably captured the global imagination. The reasons behind this widespread fascination are as diverse and captivating as the island itself, extending far beyond the iconic figures of Bob Marley and Usain Bolt. While these titans undoubtedly play a significant role, the enduring appeal of Jamaican culture lies in a potent blend of resilience, creativity, and a uniquely vibrant spirit that resonates with people across the globe.

One of the most immediate draws is undoubtedly the infectious energy of Jamaican music. Reggae, with its hypnotic rhythms and messages of social justice and love, transcended geographical boundaries decades ago. Bob Marley, in particular, became a global ambassador, his music a soundtrack for peace and unity. His lyrics, infused with Rastafarian philosophy, offered a powerful message of hope and resistance that continues to inspire generations. However, to attribute the entire Jamaican cultural magnetism solely to Marley would be an oversimplification. The evolution of Jamaican music, from ska and rocksteady to dancehall and reggae's contemporary forms, demonstrates a continuous wellspring of creativity that keeps the island's sonic landscape fresh and engaging. Artists like Sean Paul, Shaggy, Koffee, and countless others have carried the torch, introducing new sounds and perspectives while still rooted in that distinct Jamaican vibe.

Beyond the music, the Jamaican spirit of resilience and joy in the face of adversity is profoundly attractive. The island's history, marked by struggle and the triumph of the human spirit, has forged a culture that celebrates life with an unbridled passion. This spirit is palpable in the warmth and hospitality of its people, a key reason why so many yearn to visit the island's shores. The promise of sun-drenched beaches, lush landscapes, and an atmosphere brimming with infectious positivity is a powerful lure for travelers seeking an escape and an authentic cultural experience.

The culinary landscape of Jamaica also plays a significant role in its global appeal. Jerk cuisine, with its fiery blend of spices, is now a staple in many parts of the world. The unique flavors of ackee and saltfish, callaloo, and a plethora of fresh fruits and vegetables offer a tantalizing taste of the island's rich agricultural heritage. Food is often a primary gateway to understanding and appreciating a culture, and Jamaican cuisine, with its bold and distinctive character, has successfully navigated this path.

The desire to engage with the Jamaican language, Patois (or Jamaican Creole), further underscores the depth of this cultural fascination. While English is the official language, Patois, with its unique vocabulary, grammar, and melodic cadence, embodies the island's distinct identity. For many, learning a few Patois phrases is a way to connect more authentically with the culture and its people, moving beyond a superficial tourist experience.

While Usain Bolt, the lightning-fast sprinter, has undoubtedly brought global attention to Jamaica through his unparalleled athletic achievements, his impact, like Marley's, contributes to a broader narrative of Jamaican excellence. He embodies the island's spirit of pushing boundaries and achieving greatness on the world stage. However, his influence primarily lies in the realm of sports and national pride, rather than being the sole driver of widespread cultural adoption.

The global embrace of Jamaican culture is a multifaceted phenomenon. While Bob Marley and Usain Bolt serve as powerful symbols of the island's artistic and athletic prowess, the underlying reasons for this widespread appeal are far more intricate. The infectious rhythms of its music, the resilience and warmth of its people, the tantalizing flavors of its cuisine, and the unique charm of its language all contribute to a cultural tapestry that captivates and resonates with individuals across the globe. It's not just about iconic figures; it's about a vibrant, dynamic culture that offers a unique and compelling perspective on life, resilience, and the enduring power of the human spirit.

Will crime ever subside in Jamaica?

 

The recent, brutal daylight murders of two individuals in the tourist hub of Ocho Rios, St. Ann, with their bodies left brazenly on the street for all to see, sends a chilling ripple through Jamaica. This incident, like so many before it, forces a stark question: will the crime in Jamaica ever truly go down? This question is particularly pressing when contrasted with statements from Prime Minister Andrew Holness, who, just days ago, reported that crime is at an "all-time low," with murder rates significantly tumbling. So, what is the truth, really?

The disconnect between the lived reality of such horrific events and official pronouncements on crime statistics is deeply unsettling for both Jamaicans and the international community. While the Prime Minister's Office has highlighted a substantial decline in murder rates, even claiming a 35-year record low as of late June 2025, and a 44.1% drop compared to the same period last year, incidents like the one in Ocho Rios underscore that the threat of violent crime remains a pervasive and terrifying aspect of life in many parts of the island.

The U.S. Travel Advisory, updated just over a month ago, paints a more cautious picture. While acknowledging a decrease in violent crime since 2024, it explicitly states that crime remains "statistically high throughout the country." It also highlights that Jamaica's homicide rate is among the highest in the Western Hemisphere, and that armed robberies and sexual assaults are common. Even in tourist areas, generally considered safer, the advisory points out specific high-risk neighborhoods, including Steer Town and the Buckfield neighborhood near Ocho Rios itself.

This discrepancy raises critical questions. Are the reported declines in overall crime figures adequately reflecting the persistent and visible acts of extreme violence? Is a statistical reduction, however significant, truly translating into a tangible sense of safety and security for the average citizen and visitor? When bodies are left on public streets in a prominent tourist city, the psychological impact far outweighs any numerical reduction in a spreadsheet. Such acts erode public trust, instill fear, and inevitably cast a long shadow over the nation's image.

Several factors are widely understood to contribute to Jamaica's enduring crime problem. The illicit flow of firearms, largely from the U.S., fuels the high homicide rate. Organized crime, including human trafficking and extortion, further destabilizes communities. Socio-economic disparities, limited opportunities, and a history of political "garrison" communities where violence was once politically sanctioned, have all created fertile ground for criminal enterprises. While official reports often focus on gang-related violence, older studies suggest that disputes and reprisals also account for a significant portion of homicides, indicating a broader societal issue with conflict resolution.

The impact on tourism, a vital pillar of Jamaica's economy, is undeniable. While the all-inclusive resort model has, to some extent, insulated visitors from direct exposure to local crime, high violent crime rates continue to raise concerns among potential tourists. Tourism Minister Edmund Bartlett has acknowledged that crime remains the primary barrier preventing Jamaica from reaching its full tourism potential, with visitor arrivals potentially tripling if the downward trend in crime continues. Yet, the stark images from incidents like the one in Ocho Rios directly contradict the narrative of a fully secured and peaceful destination.

The Prime Minister and his government frequently emphasize their sustained investment in national security, improved technology for law enforcement, increased police presence, and legislative reforms aimed at strengthening penalties for serious crimes. These are certainly necessary steps. However, true and lasting change requires a multifaceted approach that extends beyond law enforcement. It demands a genuine commitment to addressing the root causes of crime: fostering economic opportunities, improving educational outcomes, strengthening community programs, and tackling corruption within institutions.

Until the day-to-day reality on the ground consistently reflects the positive crime statistics, and incidents of brazen, public violence become a rarity rather than a recurring headline, the question will persist: will the crime in Jamaica ever truly go down? The answer lies not just in numbers, but in the tangible sense of security and peace that every Jamaican and every visitor deserves to experience.

Beyond North and South

Unpacking the World of the Directionally Challenged

For some, navigating the world is as intuitive as breathing. A mental compass perpetually points true north, street names snap into place with ease, and a quick glance at a map conjures a clear path. But for a significant portion of the population, this innate sense of direction is a foreign concept. They are the "directionally challenged," a group often misunderstood, sometimes mocked, and perpetually just a wrong turn away from an unexpected adventure.

The struggles of the directionally challenged are often more than just a minor inconvenience. It's the anxiety of public transit, the frustration of never being able to find a car in a parking lot, the sheer panic of an unfamiliar city, even with GPS loudly proclaiming turn-by-turn directions. For them, a simple journey can become an epic odyssey, fraught with U-turns, bewildered glances at street signs, and a nagging sense of disorientation. It's a lived experience that can impact everything from independence and confidence to career opportunities and social interactions.

While often treated as a quirky personality trait, the roots of being directionally challenged can run deeper, touching upon cognitive processing and spatial reasoning. For years, the prevailing wisdom (or lack thereof) offered little solace or practical solutions beyond "just get a better map" or "pay more attention." This is precisely where a new perspective, and a promising resource, enters the conversation.

E. Patsy Greenland's "Center Brained: could just be the the Answer to a need that has long been overlooked" emerges as a potential beacon for those who feel perpetually lost in a world designed for the directionally gifted. Greenland’s work suggests a paradigm shift, moving beyond the simplistic "right-brained/left-brained" dichotomy to explore a "Center Brained" approach to spatial intelligence. For more insights and resources, you can also check out E. Patsy's blog.

The traditional view often attributes strong directional skills to the left hemisphere, associated with logic and linear thinking, or the right, linked to spatial awareness and creativity. Greenland's "Center Brained" theory posits that for many, their unique way of processing spatial information doesn't neatly fit into these established categories. Instead, it might stem from a different, perhaps underdeveloped or less utilized, neural pathway that requires a tailored approach to learning and navigation.

The book, as its title suggests, aims to provide solutions where few have existed before. It moves beyond generic advice to offer specific strategies and techniques that cater to the "Center Brained" individual. This could involve novel ways of interpreting landmarks, developing alternative mnemonic devices for routes, or even leveraging different sensory inputs to build a stronger internal map. It promises not a cure, but a method for empowerment, allowing individuals to work with their unique cognitive style rather than constantly fighting against it.

For the directionally challenged, "Center Brained" offers more than just practical tips; it offers validation. It acknowledges that their struggle is real, not merely a lack of effort or intelligence. It opens up the possibility that their challenges are a consequence of a different way of thinking, and that with the right tools, they too can confidently navigate the world. In a society that often overlooks nuanced cognitive differences, Greenland's work could be a crucial step towards fostering greater understanding, empathy, and ultimately, a more navigable world for everyone

Planning my own funeral

There's a quiet, almost forbidden truth that whispers through the halls of life, a stark reality often pushed to the furthest corners of our minds: the planning of one's own funeral can only, truly, be done while one is alive. It is a somber necessity, a task imbued with a gravity that can feel overwhelming, yet it remains an act of profound foresight and unexpected kindness.

In a world that often celebrates the vibrant pulse of existence, the idea of contemplating our own cessation feels counterintuitive, even morbid. We fill our days with work, family, hobbies, and the pursuit of dreams, rarely pausing to consider the ultimate certainty that awaits us all. Yet, to shy away from this contemplation is to inadvertently place a heavy burden upon those we leave behind.

I've recently come to terms with the fact that I'm not young anymore. It's not that I ever believed I had to be old to die; life has a way of reminding us of its fragility at any age. But now, more than ever, I realize that any day truly can be my day. This newfound clarity, though sobering, has brought with it a profound sense of purpose in ensuring my affairs are in order. I thought I would just leave these thoughts, these simple considerations, so people would know what I was thinking before I actually "kicked the bucket."

Imagine, for a moment, the grief-stricken haze that descends upon loved ones in the wake of a loss. Their world is fractured, their hearts aching, and their minds reeling from the absence of a cherished presence. In this raw and vulnerable state, they are suddenly faced with a myriad of practical decisions: where will the service be held? What kind of ceremony would be appropriate? What songs, what readings, what final wishes would honor the departed? Without clear guidance, these questions become agonizing dilemmas, each choice a potential source of second-guessing and added anguish.

This is where the quiet act of pre-planning transforms into a profound act of love. While the thought of selecting caskets or choosing hymns might seem chilling when one is full of life, it is precisely in this state of vitality that rational, considered decisions can be made. It is when one can reflect on a life lived, on values held dear, and on the message one wishes to convey in their final farewell.

Planning your own funeral isn't about rushing towards the inevitable; it's about taking control of the narrative of your life's end. It's about ensuring that your legacy is honored in a way that resonates with your true self. It's about alleviating the immense pressure on your family during their darkest hours, allowing them to grieve fully without the added stress of logistical uncertainties.

Perhaps you envision a quiet, intimate gathering, or a vibrant celebration of life. Maybe you have specific musical preferences, or a desire for charitable donations in lieu of flowers. These are the details, seemingly small, that paint a deeply personal picture and offer immense comfort to those left behind. By articulating these wishes, you offer a final gift: the peace of mind that comes from knowing they are fulfilling your true desires.

So, while the topic may be steeped in solemnity, let us acknowledge this truth not with fear, but with a quiet understanding. To plan for one's own funeral while alive is not to invite the end, but to embrace a final act of agency, a thoughtful gesture that echoes beyond the silence, a testament to a life thoughtfully lived and a love that endures. It is the unignorable truth, and ultimately, a path to a more peaceful goodbye for all.