“There’s an art in acquiring just the right amount of knowledge so as not to bias the imagination.” 

Such was the note my Dad left in the back of his beloved copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy: A Trilogy in four Parts in 1995. It made me think about how so few of us are actually succeeding at mastering this heinously difficult art in our lives. It seems we wander around with heavily biased imaginations, that we devour rationality while only lightly snacking on whimsy. 

Imagination is a beautiful thing. It brings the impossible into existence, even if just in our minds. But then it can be rendered into words, shaped by pencils and paint, strung into musical notes — making it, in a way, real and material. Taking time to stop and smell the flowers, to stare and admire, to devour their sugary scent, to lift heavy blooms on their stalks and observe the little beetles crawling between the arched sanctuaries of the petals, does wonders. Appreciating what tangible wonders we have leads to the realisation that all is possible in the imaginative realm. The ‘real’ is used as a springboard. Imagination brings us comfort, an idea of the possibilities that might be in our future, or an envisionment of how things might have been in the past. It is a gateway we step through to empathy, the first, unskippable step in truly understanding and coexisting with one another. 

Knowledge and rationality is also a beautiful thing. The pursuit of it is our road to making sense of phenomena we otherwise do not understand. It benefits our lives — we know at what temperature water will boil, how to manage our taxes (sort of), how to drive, how to catch the bus, how to read, how numbers operate, what to do at work. The more knowledge we accrue, the more wonders of existence and the universe become apparent to us. By knowing more, however, we have less need to imagine, for when answers are available, there doesn’t seem much point to wondering what could be the answer. But knowledge needn’t replace imagination entirely. It can also feed it, just enough. Here we arrive at this precious balance my Dad was apparently (he doesn’t remember writing the note) pondering. 

I definitely see how The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy might have prompted this thought. It is an immensely entertaining piece of fiction — and a masterful example of balancing knowledge and the imagination, and reading it makes one quite in awe of Douglas Adams and how he created something so imaginative. Yet the imaginative elements, which are absolutely absurd, do have clear links to knowledge. Computers, robotics, theories of time, probability, coincidence, astrophysics — all are paramount to the story. Though I suspect it is not very scientifically accurate, and the situations in the book are extraordinarily unlikely, it is clear that Adams possessed an adequate amount of knowledge to act as a springboard for his imagination. This, then, is an inspiration.

But it feels so hard to do this ourselves, to remain creative when life demands we prioritise knowledge of taxes and how to write an essay and “this is a bicycle therefore I’m not a robot” and “don’t eat this food it’ll make me feel ill” and “oh no I need to submit this form by Monday”. Even writing this article, I’m really not sure I’ve been imaginative enough, if I’m thinking outside the box enough on this complex topic. I love creative writing, but I do wonder if my creativity is being diluted over the years.

I love university. I love knowing more things, and the more I know about, the more I realise there still is to know — and so of course I want to know this as well. I am lucky that my degree does ask me to think for myself and to interpret things according to my own thoughts on the matter, as long as I find good academic sources to back up my thoughts, of course. I love putting my knowledge to use and refining it.

But the fact remains that knowledge is limited, and probably always will be. We don’t know everything. We probably can’t know everything, or if the human race eventually does, it’ll be loooong after all of you reading this, and myself, are dead and buried and turned to dust, so there’s not much point in hoping to know anything. Imagination, however, has no bounds, even if it feels like the preoccupations of everyday life suppress it. As hard as it feels, we can still be imaginative, and this is something I do wish to strive for, especially as a writer. Doing research is important — but remember, we have brains as well, just like the people who provided the knowledge we are consuming. We don’t have to stay within the bounds of knowledge. We can use it like going up a staircase before launching ourselves into impossible possibilities. And I think we should. I think this would make us a lot happier. 

My challenge, I have decided, is to become more imaginative, and to use my knowledge wisely. I don’t know exactly how I will do it yet, because my Dad unfortunately didn’t provide a guidebook on how not to bias the imagination with his note. But I will try. And I encourage you to try as well.