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The Beauty of Not Knowing

May 8, 2023


Greetings from the ignorant,


Some time ago, I had a conversation with a friend, which I’ll warn you in advance, is both frivolous and significant. It’s kind of a theme in my life.


Me: There are a lot of different birds, right? The trees are filled with them.

Him: Yes, so?

Me: And more are being born all the time, and there is a bazillion of them flying around.

Him: Yes, geese and ducks and robins and all.

Me: So, where are all the dead birds?

Him: What?

Me: I mean, they all die eventually, shouldn’t they be falling out of the sky like rain? Why aren’t there piles of them in the yard?

Him: Well, that took a dark turn.


This led to questions about whether spiders migrate in the winter, or where frogs go when the water freezes. First, we both probably should know the answers, which probably reveals something about the educational system, or our memories, but we didn’t.


The conversation was hilarious, and interesting. At some point I said “Don’t google that. I want to just not know.”


After the first time I was at my daughter’s new house, I made an effort to get back there again without looking at a navigation app. It wasn’t perfect, but I managed. I have practiced this exercise a few times, trying to learn how to get where I am going, looking for landmarks, memorizing names of streets, trying to reclaim east versus west. I have had mixed success, if arriving at your destination is success.


That little bit of friction, the tiny bit of discomfort that comes from being lost, or from trying to remember, or simply not knowing, may be a sensation that could disappear in the next generation, if it hasn’t already. I have decided I’m not willing to give mine up.


This is not a nostalgic bit of romanticizing. I am a little worried that we have become so accustomed to trading human experience for pleasure and convenience, that we may not know when we have negotiated away something beautiful.


I really like the fact that I can look at my phone and not be lost. I like that I can simply touch a screen and not be ignorant, or be reminded of something I am going crazy trying to remember. This access to information expands our lives in many ways.


But there is a sensation of not knowing, or of searching, or trying, that is lost when the need to know can be solved with such ease. It may sound like some spoiled white guy’s first-world problem, but it is part of something more important. In nearly every advancement of human experience, some things are lost. It is often worth the price, but there are places when perhaps it’s not. In either case, someone should note the passing of the thing.


The dishwasher comes into the house and frees someone from hours of drudgery. And the time looking out the kitchen window, daydreaming, or watching the kids in the yard, dissolves. The experience of searching for the perfect album, buying it, placing it on the turntable, hearing the first hiss and pop, is largely lost. Instead, we can listen to any music we choose, some we would never have otherwise, with a simple touch. Is the loss worth noting?


The conversations at the back fence, the sheets drying on the clothesline, the time spent noticing the things along the sidewalk, walking back and forth to your friend’s house because that’s how you got to tell him something. I don’t resent the things that have made our lives easier, but truly we should acknowledge what easier has erased. The acts, the work, the thoughts, the things we did together, all because we couldn’t simply say “Alexa, what is happiness?” Or whatever.


Most thinking people already realize that we are being changed negatively by having screens at our faces so often. We lose contact with others, we stop thinking creatively, we rely more on other people’s experiences than our own. We also accept things as true, when they may not be. At the minimum, we should all admit that we need more time away from screens to recharge our human battery.


As cumbersome as this sounds, I want to think carefully about what I give up whenever I am given a reason to give something up, regardless of what the prize is.


There is an added benefit to not knowing or being lost. When you wonder about an answer it can lead to silly conversations, or thinking about how to work through to possible truths. When you are lost, you learn to solve problems, to notice, to orient yourself in the world.


In both cases, the process can take you to places you would not have been otherwise. And there is where the adventure can be.



Hope this finds you a little lost,



David






Copyright © 2023 David Smith

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