Not knowing
It is almost 4 AM. I sit down at the computer and type. The words leap from my mind onto the screen. It is almost like magic. I do not feel that it is 'I' who is doing it.
'Not knowing' is what lies beyond the edge of our knowledge. At the edge, we feel discomfort. Our bodies change physically. A layer of perspiration forms on our soles and our torsos. We pace up and down repetitively. We know, without a doubt, that we have arrived at a place where unpleasant feelings await: dread, anxiety and fear. It is a place that we try to avoid.
“Traveller, there is no road... The footsteps are the path”. This is an expression that I remember reading a few months ago in a book on the subject of 'Not knowing'. The words of the authors come to my mind now. They write that it is difficult to balance the act of informing the reader, with the subject matter itself. The book may make the authors seem like experts on 'Not knowing', but they emphasise that they are no more adept than we are at navigating the unknown. As if to hammer home the point that they are not experts, the authors have sought wisdom from various people on the endeavour of handling the unknown, in a particularly illuminating section, which is about following the wisdom of people with relevant experience, and essentially staying humble.
What has driven me to such a dark place, and into such an uncomfortable position? I am encountering the unknown as I produce this post. Never in my life have I embarked on such a pursuit.
Would I be able to make the post funny? Who should I write the post for? How good am I as a (aspiring) comedian with a blog? Worry after worry has flooded my mind before I can even sit down to write. Writing a blog post had become a matter of demonstrating my competence and a potential source of embarrassment. I feel the way that I have felt in my final year of high school as I prepared for my examinations and 'O' Levels: a mixture of nervousness and uneasiness. I gulp down two litres of water. About ten years ago, while preparing for examinations, I did almost the same thing. My mother exclaimed then: 'I don't know why you are drinking so much water! Is it to relieve your stress?'
'Don't feign expertise,' the book seems to warn from my memories, 'as tempting as it may be'.
I have no idea that what I have read in the 'Not knowing' book would come to my mind as I begin my confrontation with the unknown, which at this moment is how to produce a public blog post. While I have blogged in the past, it was done anonymously. I am uncertain about writing this blog post.
I notice how shallow my breaths are. I let out an exhalation and count a few breaths. I have not even been aware that dealing with the unknown would constrict my breath in such a manner.
In writing this blog post, I have drawn on the investigative strength and effort of people who write books, such as Steven D'Souza and Diana Renner, who co-wrote 'Not knowing'. They are like a tug on your hand in pitch darkness. These are tugs that prompt a way forward when there is no light. 'Close your eyes to see,' the authors write. I had not understood it when I was reading the book. I had thought I had, but I had not. Now, while writing this post, I am reminded of one afternoon at a place in Singapore called Dialogue in the Dark. I had been blindfolded and led by my hand through passageways and obstacles. I was unaccustomed to the loss of my sight, and relied on my other senses and the easy banter with the person who was pulling me by the hand, and guiding me. Near the end of the activity, it was revealed that my guide was blind. I was touched by this revelation and reversal of societal roles. I teared up. In the process of writing this post, the 'Not knowing' book had felt like the hand of the blind guide. Just as she had provided direction and company to me while I fumbled and moved in the un-seeable corridors of Dialogue in the Dark, the book guides me as I write this post.
I realise that the stories of those who have gone before us can help us in unexpected ways. Maybe this is why storytelling is such a rich and universal tradition. Maybe this is why reading should be encouraged among people of all ages. But in the spirit of not knowing, I may be wrong.
Even if I gain some measure of expertise while writing this post, I realise that the value of my experience is in helping others in their own experiences of the unknown. Call me naive, but I would rather have somebody else go on their own journey into the unknown, than have people follow my words carelessly. I realise that a so-called expert cannot help me realise what I have to realise on my own.
Maybe, this is the value behind the book's section on “Beginner's mind”. If only I can confront the unknown as beginners do! If only the company of beginners can make me a beginner myself! What wouldn't I give to have the opportunity to be a beginner again, and embark on the journey into the unknown once more. In a way, I'm envious of beginners. Those who haven't walked the path have the opportunity to develop uniquely.
Perhaps, my greatest value to people is in guiding them to go on their own journeys into the unknown, so that they can develop and grow in their own unique ways. Perhaps this is the answer to the question of 'What is the meaning of life?'
But, then again, I'm no expert. I'm a beginner at blogging and writing.
And there are others who are wiser than myself.
They may not wish to be known as experts, but when it comes to guiding people on their own journeys of 'Not knowing', Steve D'Souza and Diana Renner did well. This is my experience after reading the book.