40 to 40: Knowledge

I turn 40 years old in 40 weeks.?I'm using this as an excuse to reflect on (what I hope is) the first half of my life, capturing 40 lessons learned as I count down to my birthday.

Today I'm thinking about knowledge.

Knowledge is not what you know. This is confusing because the word "know" is baked right into it. You would think they were directly connected, but over these long decades I've learned that just isn't so. Knowledge is actually measured by what you do.

Consuming Knowledge

My family is all about books. Reading is our favorite pastime. The logic is simple: we value knowing things. Books contain things to know. Reading books takes those things and puts them in your brain. The more books I read, the more things I know.

No one ever said those exact words, but it was obvious. As a kid I watched both my mother and my father devour book after book after book. Literature, fantasy, history, biography, thriller, science fiction, you name it. My older brother read all the time (he still does). So did (and does) my younger sister.

I picked up the reading habit too, but didn't really lean into it until the Marine Corps. As a bit of a social outcast, I had plenty of time on my hands. I turned to books for solace (and, of course, knowledge) and they didn't disappoint. I had a makeshift library full of tattered books in my barracks room. Since I lived so close?to the flea market at Eastern Market (in Washington DC), I could make the trek every weekend to go through the boxes of used books in search of mis-priced treasure.

When I went backpacking across the UK and Norway a few years later, my backpack weighed well over 100 pounds. I had stumbled onto the nexus of two of my favorite activities: physical fitness and reading. About half that internal frame pack was weighted down with books. I'm proud to say I read all?but one of those books over the course of a single summer.

The last two volumes of a history of mathematics proved to be my undoing :(

7 years ago I got into audiobooks. Since then I've listened to hundreds of books, while reserving hard copies for books that are especially dense, and books I like to reread. I even listen to books while working out! This takes about two weeks to get used to, and then you'll never want to listen to music at the gym again. There are too many great books out there.

I've read hundreds of business books. I've read a biography of every US president in chronological order. I've read dozens of books on military strategy, history, and leaders. I've read dozens more about parenting, family, and fatherhood.

The Paradox of Knowledge

And yet, something is wrong. As I take stock of myself, I have to admit some uncomfortable truths. I am not a great businessman. I am not a great leader. I am not a great Marine. And I am neither a great husband nor a great father.

What do all these claims have in common? Besides being depressing, that is. Reread the paragraph directly above it. Each statement flies in the face of all the "knowledge" I have about that subject.

Therein lies the problem, and the epiphany for me in recent years. I can't say I "know" anything about a subject in any meaningful sense if my behavior doesn't increasingly align to that knowledge over time. What good are thousands of hours of reading if they don't make me a better human?

Knowledge should be connected to what I do. If I read a book and then use some random factoids to undermine or belittle someone else, then reading has actually made me a worse person. That is the classic example of the sophomore, or wise fool.

I can't let a little bit of knowledge stand between me and the vastness of my ignorance. I don't really know anything when my book learning is measured against all the things about which I'm clueless. After decades of intensive reading, I know less about fewer things than when I started. And that, as Socrates discovered, is the starting point.

Knowledge, Redefined

I still love to read, and I still read a lot. What's changed is that I have a basic sense of proportion. My ignorance will always outweigh my knowledge. And what little I know is only valuable if I figure out how to treat the people around me better as a result.

My internal monologue sounds more like this nowadays. Reading a book about parenting, William? Fine, what's one thing I will do differently as a father because of the book? When specifically will I do that one thing? What existing behavior will it replace or change? How will I explain the difference to my children? My wife?

This is an exhausting exercise. It's hard to get better, especially at those things at which I really need to improve. That's why more of my reading is shifting into either reading for pleasure or rereading books that I love.

If it's for pleasure I don't have to pretend that I'm learning anything new at all. This keeps my ego in check. And if I'm rereading something, maybe I'll get lucky and a big idea will strike me at just the right now. Or a theme will resonate with me in a deeper, more profound way than it did when I first read the book.

On work trips I now take 2-3 books from my childhood. These are usually no more than 200 pages, and easy to read. It has to be something I can read in a single night in a hotel room. Think Of Mice And Men, or Man's Search for Meaning, or Siddhartha, or Inherit The Wind. Powerful, simple, profound. They won't tell me anything new, but they will remind me of something important that I should put into practice. After all, that's the only way I can truly say I know anything at all.