Sunday, January 30, 2011

You knew?


If you've ever taken a French class, even at the introductory level, you'll learn that there are two verbs that both mean, in essence, "to know." Savoir connotes something logical, or perhaps a concept. Connaître creates a gray area, though, and can be used to indicate a certain familiarity you might have with a person or place. (Geek out: used reflexively it can also mean to meet someone.) Spanish is exactly the same with conocer and saber. Knowing and knowing. And I'd be a fool if I didn't flaunt that I know the Germans came up with kennen and wissen that present like dilemmas.

So what does knowing mean and what is the power of knowing? Can we immediately attribute knowing to knowledge or does it smack of something completely different? Take for example the book-smart, ivory-tower academic and the streetwise blue collar fellow with experiential knowledge--I think it's safe to agree that a mélange of the two is ideal. But consider, for a moment, the word in itself and its most common uses:

"David, you must be circumspect when you wander in the woods!"
--"I know."

Here we have the classic scenario wherein we don't want to be told what to do. We insist we know, attempting to disarm any accusations that run contrary. And when I think of the times I use knowing in this way, the majority of the time...well...I didn't really "know" and as a result faltered in some way. I know I should have went up and talked to him or her, I know I should have studied more for that calculus final, etc. Can we even conceive of an exhaustive list for instances like these? Certainement pas!

So then we come to yet another question: why aren't we taking our own advice if we, in fact, know? If we know better why don't we do better? Fear obviously takes some of the blame here as it looms over and in our heads, taunting us with prospects of dire consequence. It then becomes a question of reclaiming our human agency, our ability to choose a path that best suits our wants, passions, and desires. And pardon me, but would anyone really like to go down a different path? (At this point in the program, I'd like to kindly ask that the Champagne socialists refrain from chatter.)

In the Bible, "knowing" someone implicitly implied a sexual relationship. In another incarnation, "knowing" attributes itself to a familiarity with something and at the very least, refers to acquaintance relationships. For instance, "If only you knew the Ken I know, then you'd understand!"

Hold up. Knowing leads to understanding? Well there's a concept. If we accept this to be true, can we say that learning leads to knowing, which in turn leads to understanding? Ladies and gentlemen, we've definitely arrived at the crux of our discussion.

Whether we learn formally or informally, we convert these teachings to understandings. We learn that 10% of 100 is 10, understand that one typically tips 15% on a restaurant bill, and we thus will give a waiter $2.25 for our $15 bill for a tartine and tea at Le Pain Quotidien. While some of what we understand helps us pragmatically navigate the world, these understandings often take the more noxious form of the belief. Believing: the act of internalizing absolute truths and understandings.

Assume someone believes:
  • The ringing in your ears you sometimes hear is an indication that you're moving to a higher vibrational level.
  • Tom Cruise and John Travolta are straight.
  • Eating raw and vegan foods make sex ten times better.
  • I buy this car because Jesus Christ gave me an order to do so.
These beliefs are no longer just ideas at this point. These are stubborn statements that aren't going to readily change. And what exactly about the course of our existence leads us to believe that things are static, that things are absolute? We change our hair color, replace our electronics with newer technology, and elect a president every four to eight years. Thinking works with the world, ideas come and go. But in the case of beliefs, do we really want to hastily write everything into stone? Beliefs close off the causeway to change, and very actively so might I add.

Knowing is a dangerous thing sometimes. It brings people to the most interesting of conclusions. But let's for a moment reconsider the age old axiom that "Knowledge is Power." It sure as shit is power, but what about everything we don't know? What we have left to learn, to experience, to know: all of that in no way should be associated with a "lack" of power. Being humble about what you don't know leaves your mind open for ideas to come in and out with ease. Not to mention, an open mind thinks for itself and critically examines the world around itself. Case in point, "I thought Britney was done for, but look at that comeback! She's adding $300m a month to our GDP!"

To step off the track for just a moment, I must note that the English language is indeed a tricky one. Verbs are conjugated in a manner reminiscent of fun house mirror reflections, words are easily stolen from other languages and "loaned" into our lexicon, and dialects are distinct but not distinct enough to foster "real" misunderstanding. English is rank with innuendo and even the slightest exchange of a preposition changes meaning entirely. Let us take, for example, the instances of strapping "in" versus strapping "on." Is my point clear enough?

Go ahead and clean your mind of unfriendly imagery and return to the discussion at hand, if you please.

We must be careful about our vocabulary--what words we favor, what we think we know, and what we believe. So folks, open up your mind and question some of those things you hold dear. Be critical and don't be afraid to deconstruct, unlearn, and hear people out. Keep in mind that human experience must be valued above all else: we must hold it dear to our hearts as it regales us with our past, whether good, bad, or downright ugly. Life is truly beautiful if you take the time to experience and share it.

And though you may be familiar with something or someone, life never fails to turn on us: the strange becomes familiar and the familiar becomes strange. I bid you all adieu, and wish you pleasant mental meanderings.

Sincerely Yours,
David

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