No matter how hard I try, I cannot wake up without unanswered questions that represent failings of a limited mental capacity, I suppose, or maybe failings of attitude or work ethic: Had I worked harder every day, I might have answers. I’m guessing there are people “out there” who wake content in their knowledge; I’m just not one of them. Yet, I have accumulated knowledge from life experiences and from study. My failing lies in a simple truism: Knowledge isn’t wisdom though it is probably wisdom’s chief predicate. Wisdom seems to be more than the sum of its parts.
I see the detachment between knowledge and wisdom when someone asks me for advice on a problem important to them, maybe a problem on “what’s the next step” or one on “how do I handle this situation.” And I find my shortcomings particularly bothersome when the problem involves emotions. I’m just not one of those who can, regardless of my empathy, advise on matters of the heart.
But maybe I’m not alone. Possibly, you, too, feel a bit inadequate when someone asks for advice on human interactions. Why you? Why not some guru? Those asking for advice often go away a bit dissatisfied, leaving the “advisor” recognizing limitations and that gap between knowledge and wisdom.
And what troubles me in the morning when I face a multitude of as yet unanswered questions about life and “stuff,” is that my only avenue to wisdom seem to lie in either analogy or logic.
The limitations of the former lie in the irrelevance of one situation to another. No two situations are precisely the same; that’s why “analogies limp.” And the limitations of the latter lie in the disconnect between rationality and emotion. Logic is great for problems that lend themselves to methodical thinking. Unfortunately, it usually has little relevance to emotional problems though cognitive psychologists and yield theory therapists might argue differently. Cognition works, I’ll grant, but only after the person seeking advice opens up to a particular methodology.
If I were to awake tomorrow morning with no unanswered questions, I shall have reached a state of wisdom. That condition is unreal, of course, but it suggests that I will always have a reason for waking.
I see the detachment between knowledge and wisdom when someone asks me for advice on a problem important to them, maybe a problem on “what’s the next step” or one on “how do I handle this situation.” And I find my shortcomings particularly bothersome when the problem involves emotions. I’m just not one of those who can, regardless of my empathy, advise on matters of the heart.
But maybe I’m not alone. Possibly, you, too, feel a bit inadequate when someone asks for advice on human interactions. Why you? Why not some guru? Those asking for advice often go away a bit dissatisfied, leaving the “advisor” recognizing limitations and that gap between knowledge and wisdom.
And what troubles me in the morning when I face a multitude of as yet unanswered questions about life and “stuff,” is that my only avenue to wisdom seem to lie in either analogy or logic.
The limitations of the former lie in the irrelevance of one situation to another. No two situations are precisely the same; that’s why “analogies limp.” And the limitations of the latter lie in the disconnect between rationality and emotion. Logic is great for problems that lend themselves to methodical thinking. Unfortunately, it usually has little relevance to emotional problems though cognitive psychologists and yield theory therapists might argue differently. Cognition works, I’ll grant, but only after the person seeking advice opens up to a particular methodology.
If I were to awake tomorrow morning with no unanswered questions, I shall have reached a state of wisdom. That condition is unreal, of course, but it suggests that I will always have a reason for waking.
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