Knowledge doesn’t give us a Knowing

It’s interesting how we can know something in our minds but still doubt it in our hearts. I wonder: is that actually knowing?

The distance between mind and heart demands we highlight the difference between knowledge and knowing, a distinction that transcends any by-the-book definition.

According to the Oxford Dictionary, knowledge is the “facts, information, and skills acquired through experience or education.” It is a thirst for information, a theoretical understanding. Knowing, however, is defined as “showing or suggesting awareness that is secret or known to only a few,” but also as something “done in full awareness or consciousness.”

In other words:

• Knowledge is information gathered, processed, and accepted by the mind. It is teachable. It demands effort and concentration, and is constantly questioned not only by scholars but also by our own souls, instincts, and fears.

• Knowing embraces your entire being. You know something through your eyes, skin, blood, heart, and every pore. Knowing feels light, effortless, and non-negotiable.

Why is it that when we become aware of a fact through inquiry or data, we immediately call it knowing?

We could dive into the grammar of infinitives versus gerunds, but the truth is that in the human experience, these two concepts often contradict each other. The world of knowledge is bulky and heavy, yet we still choose it to describe truths that require no equations. By doing so, we relinquish our power to numbers, to other people’s experiences, and to external opinions. We prioritize the analytical over the flow of a state of being.

Let me put it this way.

There is an old story about a man walking down a road. He was carrying a massive rock on his right shoulder, dragging a stack of bricks with his left hand, his feet were entangled in a mesh, and a long jumble of fabric hung over his head, its loose threads dancing in the wind.

His steps were small and laboured. His right side lagged under the weight. Watching him walk was exhausting.

One day, a young boy saw him and asked, “Why are you trying to walk with that mesh around your feet?” The man looked at the boy, surprised and confused. He looked down at his feet and replied: “I hadn’t noticed.” He immediately wiggled his feet, shed the mesh, and continued his path.

A few hours later, a woman crossed his path. Seeing him struggling with the fibres over his eyes, she asked: “Why are you walking with all that cloth blocking your sight?” The man, bewildered, replied: “I wasn’t aware of it.” He pulled the fabric away and kept going.

His journey included several more encounters, each bringing to his attention that he was hauling things he didn’t need. Eventually, he let go of the entire bulky carriage and finally began to enjoy the path.

We carry so much because society demands it, because studies have “proven” it, and because we were told to do so at school, at work, in our family, etc. We keep putting on layers to apply all that knowledge without noticing that we are burying our true selves. But when the night comes, and we are alone, when there is no need to wear a mask, we know there has to be more to life. There must be a more enjoyable, flowing, less resistant way of living—We have a knowing. A knowing that we once lived this way, but at some point, it slipped through our fingers. We still feel it in every cell; the longing for a life that feels like living is predominant.

Then, the light comes back. A new day begins, and we return to what our families instructed, what society determined, and what life expects of us. We choose knowledge over our deep knowing.

Let me bring to your attention the mesh around your feet, the purposeless sack of bricks, and the loose fabric of traditions, knowledge and teachings that make your human experience feel like swimming upstream.

Let me ask you a question in the middle of your road:

Are you being you, or are you carrying and acting on all the knowledge that is expected of you?

Your life is about you and what you deeply have a knowing you are and want. What you have learned is not always what you deeply know.