I know I’ve said there more than a few times – that life is a learning experience. Frankly, I am increasingly convinced that this is its only purpose. It often seems to beg the question, “For what?”, since it also often seems that there’s no real point to learning so much only to die; But this too, seems to be potentially insightful, even if validation of the various possibilities is, itself, impossible while living.
This particular ramble is brought to you, gentle reader, courtesy of a conversation with a friend at distance yesterday. We chatted for about three hours (I am forever surprised how quickly time flies when the conversation is good, and how horrifically it drags otherwise), and, in the process, they paid me the compliment of thanking me for teaching them something important. I scoffed at the notion, because I never think I really teach anyone much of anything. In fact, and in keeping with this post’s theme, I think any learning is wholly self-delivered (or inflicted, as the case may be). But they were kind and being quite sincere, so I merely accepted it and said thanks. No, actually, I thanked them in return for helping me learn something worthwhile and valuable.
This, of course, led directly into a conversation of what we each thought we had learned from the other and it amused me to find it was, ultimately, the same thing. Perhaps that is the proof of the abovementioned truth: Any learning is never complete until an interaction lends the same outcome to all participants. I mean, how else can you ever approximate confirmation of “the lesson” unless all involved received the same one? Stars knows, there are enough times in life when I think I’ve learned something only to find myself repeating the lesson over and over and becoming vexed or frustrated with myself for feeling that I will never, truly “get it”; Make it enough an organic, natural part of me that the reaction and response to it is unthinking, instinctive, and free of the struggles that seem to mark the process of learning.
I’m also discovering that saying you’ve learned something specifically is very likely the best way to indicate that you haven’t learned it at all. I cannot remember which of those old, Greek farts said it, but one of them said that the only thing you ever really know is that you know nothing. It was the foundation of the Skeptic philosophy, as memory serves. Another said that the man who thinks he knows something can never really learn. The takeaway seems manifold: Embracing ignorance as a constant, and insisting that what you think you know is nothing more than you think you know something (go go syntactical complexity!) are the only ways to insure you remain open to the world and the lessons it brings. Which is why I constantly refuse to feel “knowledgeable” about anything (even as the pesky presence of the word “know” bedevils my every step and often, I’m sure, makes it look/seem very much otherwise).
There are only three things I will admit to “knowing”:
(1) I love life.
(2) I love people.
(3) I love learning.
The rest is a mighty, muddled, and often conflicted stew of maybes and wishes for certainty that cannot be made concrete. I think the best one can hope for is that the things one does or says do not introduce harm, that the things one wants does not mandate another having to go without to have, and that learning something doesn’t require doing so at the expense of kindness or the cost of happiness, be it for oneself or for others (it’s all the same).
Oh. Forgetful of me. What did my friend thank me for teaching them? How to love without feeling the need to have, hold, or otherwise “possess” what is loved. As I said, it was a mutual thanks, even as I’m becoming wiser about whether or not I’m willing to say I “know” this in myself. In many ways, I’m still learning and I think I likely will always be learning this particular lesson. I do not find it a “bad” thing. Just a thing, like any other.