Knowledge is a trap, and the greatest of its kind.
Knowledge prevents learning. It lays down a certainty in a person’s future that dissolves wonderment and anticipation on contact. If you know the answer to a question, what is the point in asking? If you know sex will happen, where is the thrill of the hunt? If you know a battle will be won, can it truly be called a victory?
Worst of all though, is that knowledge reinforces a false sense of security and finality. We think a piece of knowledge can remain static, that we have gained something which cannot be lost. In times of uncertainty, we bare this weakness to the world by clinging to certainty in desperation. When a person’s religious beliefs are threatened to be torn asunder by attack, apathy or revelation, how do they react? “But I know! I know of something for certain!” And when the scientist who spent his life researching man’s culpability in progressing global climate change is confronted with new and unforeseen data reducing his highest theories to confusion, does he react any differently?
We often think that love can only be possible with intimate knowledge of immutable qualities in someone else. But what if the truth is as ironic as this: love exists only when someone both has knowledge of another person’s mind, and also knows it can change at any moment?
It is not that knowledge does not exist. It is that knowledge exists in fluidity and malleability. To attempt to attach an indestructible quality of indelibility to a piece of knowledge is to try to stand in the ocean. This is destructive to your psyche. Better to follow the waves and see what they make possible.