(7 minute read)

“The More I learn, the more I realize how much I don’t know.”

Albert Einstein

“I only know that I know nothing.”

Socrates

What I learned in my 30s is not what I learned in my 20s. What I learned in my 50s is not what I learned in my 40s. What I have learned today is always going to be more important than what I learned yesterday. And that means that every day …I have to admit …to knowing …nothing.

To some that concept may seem inconceivable, the two words “knowing nothing” incompatible. How can someone “know nothing?” I assure you that it makes perfect sense to me. But first, what “knowing nothing” does not mean.

I am educated, have earned degrees, and, despite my …youthful appearance …have an enormous amount of life experiences. “Knowing nothing” does not mean that I ignore all that or throw it away. So, what does it mean?

“Knowing nothing” means that I refuse to be limited by those educational accomplishments or elevatory experiences. I know a lot of things, I wold tell my students, but I do not know everything.

That willingness is to be comfortable living suspended between knowing and not knowing. It lies between what I have learned in the past and what I might learn in the future. This is the reality of admitting to knowing nothing. Sounds cutesy, I know, but it is a revelation that only comes from someplace deep inside an individual.

When I think about something or someone that I love, I feel a deep sense of joy. Watching a sunset is one such example. The sound of a puppy playing also makes me happy. What is that deep inner elation that rises up and makes me glad to be alive?

The “knowing” is like that. And it is not something that can be explained. It is a deep feeling. The more I try to explain what “it” is, the more I seem to get away from it. Yet, I keep trying.

This Is All I Truly Know

I was sitting on my back deck on a very pleasant Tuesday afternoon. A profound sense of being very alive suddenly came over me. A familiar sense of self and being connected to everything and everyone in the world.

“There is nothing but …this,” I thought.

“This” …is whatever and wherever I am right now. This …is not whatever I want “it” to be. “It” …is having the courage to see what is in front of me …right now …and not what I hope “it” to be.

I may have a desire for a better job. But “it” is not that desire. I may have a desire for better relationships. But “it” is not that desire. All of my past accomplishments are not “it” either. Being a star in a high school play does not make me a star today. Earning a million dollars over decades of work does not mean that I can retire to the French Rivera today.

I have heard it said, what we are today is an accumulation of what we have been in the past. We accept these pithy statements so readily as uncontested truth. But is it possible that believing statements like this just might limit my capabilities? It seems to me that life is a bit more complicated than buying someone’s banal bogus bullshit.

A human life is not like a factory assembly line. The outcome of a human life is not guaranteed to be fashioned from beginning to end. There is nothing but …this …and “it” is something greater than any promise of the future or glory of the past.

“It” is having courage. It also involves boldly accepting that whatever and wherever I am right now is all I need. There is nothing but …this life I am living right now …and I take nothing with me when I am gone. There is nothing but …this …and that means equally letting go of the triumphs and disappointment from the past …and letting go of the expectations of the future.

If my life were to be extinguished in my next breath all my expectations dissolve with me.

A rich landowner made some longterm plans.

“I will sow and I will reap. I will plant and I will gather. I will fill my storerooms to capacity. I will have more than I could ever want.”

That night he died.

The Essential Jesus, John Dominic Crossan, page 89, Harper Collins, 1994

There is nothing I can demand of the universe. No-thing. All of my thoughts and feelings pass with me when I no longer exist. What is left, and only what is left, are the effects I have had on those lives I have touched. Good or bad.

A sincere question. If cares, desires, feelings, thoughts, and worries no longer exist when I pass, can they “pass” with me now? Can they do so now, internally, instead of later?

Like you, I have also been admonished “not to sweat the small stuff.” Another pithy one.

The purpose of these well-meaning town-criers is clear. They wish to admonish listeners to let go of the minor cares of life. Eventually, they should graduate to letting the bigger ones go too. Given the benefit of the doubt …their actions are admirable in my opinion.

If we come into this world with no burdens, is it possible to strive to live today without acquiring any? Can we ensure that we leave this world at some future date with none?

I have seen birds take care of their young ones, in the nest and out. And all of us needs to be taken care of, too. But at some point we need to fend for ourselves, to function in this world. Eventually, we also needed to fend for our loved ones, too.

Like the birds.

Look at the birds above your heads.

They neither plant or reap. They neither hoard or store. Yet day by day God gives them food.

…So why worry about your life(?)

The Essential Jesus, John Dominic Crossan, page 81, Harper Collins, 1994

I KNOW THAT I KNOW NOTHING

I am not the first to have written this. So when people like Einstein and Socrates submits such a confession …I go searching for the meaning. I am intrigued by exploring those possibilities. When some of the brightest minds make such declarations, I take notice.

The Kingdom of God comes not at some future time. You cannot point out the sign of its coming. The Kingdom of God comes not at some special site. You cannot point to the place of its coming. The Kingdom of God is already here, among you, NOW

The Essential Jesus, John Dominic Crossan, page 12, Harper Collins, 1994 (empHasis mine)

While Christianity promises a future reward for its faithful, the historical Jesus apparently was, well, rather impatient. He seemed to be more interested in a current ruling realm. He preferred this over the milk-toast promise of a rosy afterlife. A wimpy afterlife involving twinkling our toes in the river of land flowing with milk and honey.

There is no yesterday anymore. It is gone forever. I am only left with the wisps of fading memories. There is no future anymore, either. It’s not yet here and there are no guarantees that it will be. I go on hoping. But not in some illusionary Edenic promise.

I am assured that there is only a NOW and the rest is “waiting.” Waiting for the inevitable future and deciding how I will live NOW. I decide how to live NOW. I live without any regrets of the past. I don’t worry about what a dimly lit future holds.

PEACE is knowing I live and die NOW with no-thing.

“It” is nothing. It is all I really have and all I really know.