In Praise of Not Knowing

As I continue to figure things out in my new job, I've been interested to observe how horrified I am at the many things I don't understand. I keep beating myself up for not knowing the solutions right away, and have forgotten to feel the joy of learning new things and experiencing the unexpected surprises, insights and connections that come with not knowing.

Acknowledging my not knowing, I changed my password for awhile to a number and symbol ridden form of "humility." Because of some mysterious security configurations at work that require me to enter my password repeatedly throughout the day when I switch environments, I ended up typing the word again and again like a mantra: humility humility humility.

Humility: the quality or condition of being humble; modest opinion or estimate of one's importance, rank, etc. dictionary.com

Humility: the absence of any feelings of being better than others. merriam-webster.com

I have a horror of being considered a know-it-all (although I know sometimes I come across that way nonetheless). So perhaps I lean too far in the opposite direction, acknowledging my not knowing too quickly; not a stellar way to gain the confidence of colleagues with strong intellects who take great pride in, by God, knowing.

Buddhists speak of "not knowing" as the greater wisdom. Acknowledging not knowing makes space for new knowledge; see the famous fable about the university professor, the wise monk, and the overflowing teacup. Remembering to let go of the need to know everything is liberating and opens up the possibility for new and surprising insights.

I have the acknowledgement of not knowing down pretty well. And now I have to stop apologizing for it. Knowing when I don’t know may be one of my most valuable qualities.

Ribe Tuchus (Sit Still)

According to the Observation Deck, the literal Yiddish translation of ribe tuchus is "rub your bottom on the chair."

Flannery O'Connor had a rule that she would sit at her writing desk for three hours each day. If she had nothing to write she would stare at the wall, but she often did have something interesting to say as we know. I also find that by sitting still with my notebook I often surprise myself by having something to say after all--sometimes I get a jump start by observing my immediate surroundings and describing them. 

Right now I see a slender young woman sitting immediately on the other side of the coffee shop window on the patio, feet up on one of the black wrought iron chairs, typing on her laptop. It's hard to imagine how she can see anything on the computer screen in the bright sunlight, but she continues to continue. She's dressed in a green-toned camouflage tank top, extremely short faded denim cutoffs, a two-inch wide belt beaded in orange and turquoise, many silver bracelets on both wrists with one pulled up past her elbow, and large silver hoop earrings--but she wears no rings at all. Her long, dark hair is piled high on her head with a few strands artfully coiling down to frame her face. She wears woven ankle-high sandals. She chews gum furiously as she finally decides to move herself to the shady half of the table where there is some hope she might be able to view the computer screen and opens two books on her lap, pen in hand, a page of notes peaking out from underneath the laptop and flapping gently in the breeze. She takes a brief call on her cell phone and then turns back to her work.

I'm guessing she's a CU student and I once again feel that surge of envy I often have for those whose entire focus in life is learning. I didn't appreciate it as much as I could have in my youth. Of course if asked, this young woman might assure me that her life is far more complicated than simply learning, and a far cry from the bliss I imagine. In any case, I remind myself that I also continue to learn at my work, through my experiences with people and technology and in brief furious spates of research, for example each time I hear yet another technical acronym that is new to me. One of the best things in life is that we continue to learn until the very end; all that's required is that we remain open and curious.