Trivial pursuits
As a kid I spent entire afternoons browsing our Webster's dictionary with its endless list of words I never imagined existed, and its eclectic and wide-ranging illustrations and tables of facts. When I tired of that, I would move to encyclopedias and reference books on animals, geography, and science.
Collecting facts about the world seemed like a reasonable strategy to understand it. And not only did I find this pursuit enjoyable in its own right, I also believed understanding would naturally lead to success and happiness. After all, it worked in school and in the quiz shows I joined and won. Studying physics in college only reinforced this analytical way of thinking.
Even after leaving the academe, I sought to collect facts and discover the rules first, feeling the need to develop my theoretical understanding before making any decisions. I read book after book on productivity, personal development, software development, leadership, writing, mindfulness — anything that seemed relevant to personal and career growth.
But just as thoughts and ideas are worthless if they remain trapped inside my head, so too, I am still slowly and painfully learning, is any theoretical understanding not put into practice in the real world. My desire to understand first is, I think, rooted in a fear of failure and a lack of courage. Despite reading it in many different forms, and even at times transmitting the same message myself, a part of me can't quite accept that failure is OK, and even necessary for real learning and growth.
Moreover, while mankind has indeed discovered physical laws that allow us to predict nature to an extent, I no longer even believe that there exist a set of laws out there for us to live our lives by. It's all provisional, and individual; we make our own rules and choose which games to play.
While I still enjoy watching Jeopardy! with the wife, collecting facts and pursuing knowledge, I now know that's not enough, and also pursue a more pragmatic, synthetic wisdom.
This essay is part of a month-long series of 30 essays.