Here is my sixth and final post in a series of brief personal philosophical statements stemming from my graduate course final. This is my second writing dealing with epistemology (What is knowledge? What does it mean to know?). I hope you’ve enjoyed the series.
Philosophy position #6: Knowledge is fluid.
What I know is constantly changing. That doesn’t mean I was wrong before or that I didn’t truly “know” something; it simply means that I can know it better or more thoroughly now. The concept of love is perhaps my favorite example of this. When I told my future wife that I loved her when we were eighteen, I knew what love is and I meant it. Three years later on our wedding day, my knowledge of love was stronger. Now, ten years, two kids, and three moves later, I shudder to think about the difference between what I know now and what I knew then. Again, I wasn’t wrong before; I just know more thoroughly now. When it comes to love, I fully intend to know exponentially more in twenty-five years as I do now. This is true for love, God, basketball defensive theory, and Transcendental literature.
Because knowledge is fluid, I can’t fully “know” if I don’t keep pursuing this knowledge. I can’t follow the crowd and embrace an “ignorance is bliss” approach. It’s a tempting road to take. New knowledge, or better knowledge, carries with it consequences. To add to knowledge and know more fully requires living according to the new or better knowledge. That equates to change. At the cost of comfort. But comfort kills. Therefore, I can accept that I know something now and that I still need to pursue deeper knowledge.
Philosophy position #6: Knowledge is fluid.
What I know is constantly changing. That doesn’t mean I was wrong before or that I didn’t truly “know” something; it simply means that I can know it better or more thoroughly now. The concept of love is perhaps my favorite example of this. When I told my future wife that I loved her when we were eighteen, I knew what love is and I meant it. Three years later on our wedding day, my knowledge of love was stronger. Now, ten years, two kids, and three moves later, I shudder to think about the difference between what I know now and what I knew then. Again, I wasn’t wrong before; I just know more thoroughly now. When it comes to love, I fully intend to know exponentially more in twenty-five years as I do now. This is true for love, God, basketball defensive theory, and Transcendental literature.
Because knowledge is fluid, I can’t fully “know” if I don’t keep pursuing this knowledge. I can’t follow the crowd and embrace an “ignorance is bliss” approach. It’s a tempting road to take. New knowledge, or better knowledge, carries with it consequences. To add to knowledge and know more fully requires living according to the new or better knowledge. That equates to change. At the cost of comfort. But comfort kills. Therefore, I can accept that I know something now and that I still need to pursue deeper knowledge.
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