I don’t know

Posted on Aug 1st , ’22 by Vincent

 

I don’t know if body and soul can exist separately. I don’t know if there is a God separate from creation. I don’t know if a theory of everything is possible, so that what I think and feel can find its place in science. I don’t know whether it’s love that makes the world go round. I don’t know if love is the word I want. It’s such a worn-out coin, the inscription has almost rubbed off. I don’t know if language can express my thought. I don’t know if it’s possible to think without language. I don’t know what others feel. I don’t know what I lack or what I ought to strive for. I don’t know if I ought to use the word ‘ought’.

I don’t know if my gladness and love is conditional. I don’t know if it makes sense to talk of my inner life and my outer life. I don’t know how I shall die or when. My body fears death but my ego does not.

Is the universe moving inexorably towards an Omega Point, as Pierre Teilhard de Chardin claimed? Do things happen because they are meant to happen? What is “meant to” meant to mean? I don’t know.

I like my not-knowing. As soon as I know something, I know that the other person, who knows the opposite, is wrong. I prefer to tolerate him along with his prejudices as I tolerate myself along with my own prejudices. A prejudice isn’t the same as knowing, but a rule-of-thumb substitute for knowing. For example, I am prejudiced in favour of things as they were in the days of my youth, when (for example) we used ‘Man’, ‘he’, ‘him’ to include both sexes without being accused of sexism. I recognize my prejudices as being such, and don’t take them seriously. I know that some of them are wrong. (So I do know something.)

Not knowing isn’t the same as not caring. I care about the questions, not so much about the answers. Everyday life carries on, either way. Everyday life is the abode of gladness.

The trivial round, the common task
Will furnish all we need to ask

Questions without answers are open windows that let in fresh air, so I can breathe freely. I can wander through the Garden of Eden, enjoying the fruit of every tree, knowing only that I am naked.