The Not Knowing

One of the best things you can do is not come to a conclusion about something. To leave it at a loose end.



Now is a pretty good time for not knowing, I reckon. 

Imagine you had two piles of fresh, crisp writing paper. On the left pile is written all the things that you know. I mean, everything. On the right side is listed all the things that you don’t know. All of it. Which pile of paper would be highest? We both know the answer.

How high would that right-hand pile be? 

Though we can’t really put a number on it, it’s going to be mighty high. It’s going high into the sky and towards forever. And we know it. Or rather, we don’t know it.

And the most incredible thing is, that pile would never stop growing. Not even when we die. All those things stacked high against an infinite sky, and beyond, in this universe of trillions of stars, of darkness and light.

What is it that is always beginning, but never ends?


Why then is it that we are so certain that we are right, or that our understanding of the universe is correct? 

What gives me the right to write these words, when there is so much about  everything – including this topic – that I haven’t the foggiest clue about. 

Would you give your power away to someone like me, who is writing a book about power? 

I wouldn’t. 

But what I might do, is listen. For a moment, at least. 

We people know so little. And yet each of us, with our tiny, tiny window on the world, is also a small universe of wisdom and understanding. That we know anything at all is a miracle of perhaps 13 billion years of cosmic evolution. Maybe more. Who knows? I don’t.

Yes, it’s true that there are many fools in the world, and that we are all fools. Sometimes. 

I could tell you some stories. About how foolish I’ve been. And I will. Later.

And yet here I am writing, and here you are reading. Because we both believe that there is something in this exchange. For both of us.

For a moment. Till we passed.

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