What Do I Know?

How is it that I think I know things? I have always thought that I know what I’m talking about. I have often been wrong. When I was twelve years old I thought I knew how the world worked.  I didn’t.  When I was eighteen, I really knew how things were then.  I didn’t, really. When I was twenty seven years old, I had some doubts.  That was quite uncomfortable. It was so uncomfortable that I ran away from life and went on an adventure.  That was fun.

While I was on that adventure, I started writing about Zen.  I knew absolutely nothing about Zen.  I had read half of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance when I was eighteen. I thought Zen was cool. I didn’t know what I didn’t know (I still think Zen is cool).

I still fall into the trap of thinking that I know what I don’t know.  I think that I know that I don’t know, but sometimes, I suspect that I actually know. I actually don’t know.

Certainty is so comforting, it’s so nice to think that somebody knows.  It’s nice to pretend to be that somebody who knows. It’s nice to comfort people.  All I know for certain is that I certainly don’t know.

How do I act when I know so little? I try to be nice.

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