Knowledge is Trusted Information
Knowledge is a conversation. When I talked to my grandpa as a kid, he told me about politics. We talked about politics. I don’t remember the politics. I remember being wrong. I remember feeling stupid. I remember losing.
In High School I listened to Rush Limbaugh while driving to my job as an Usher at a movie theater, hoping to understand what Rush knew about the world. I wanted to know him. Over the next fifteen years, I’d do the same with every podcaster and radio person I could find. I’d boot up a game, turn on a podcast or radio stream, then let my mind do the listening while I played. I wanted to know them.
I’d predict what they were about to say while I played the game. “Gary McNamara from Red Eye Radio thinks like this, so he’ll say something like ‘I just believe everyone should be adults.’”
Then, I’d rebut Gary’s statement in my mind. Everyone isn’t adults. Aren’t ‘adults’ a high expectation for people? Does turning down the social safety net in America lead to people becoming more responsible for themselves and their families, or left with less?
Endless stress followed. Years past. I wanted to know what these talkers were saying. I wanted to think with their minds through hearing their words.
What does it mean to know someone? As the years burned into memory and I pursued the truth along a long dark road, I found scraps of answers here and there. I wrote poetry. One poem a day. Then one story and one poem a day.
By focusing on word choice, I came to an understanding of words as a tool.
If I were to say 2 + 2 = 6, you’ll agree with the meaning of 2. You’ll agree with the meaning of the plus sign, the equals sign. You’ll raise concern about the six, then bring all the meanings you know about how the 2 and plus and the equals all work together and challenge the answer at the end.
Words are different. A single word is memory device. It has many meanings. When said or read, a word activates an entire history of memory within you. I felt this through writing poetry. I came to trust it. I came to know it.
What does it mean to know someone? There are expectations of the word ‘knowledge’. There is confidence that someone can keep a promise. There is the belief that others hold an answer ready and waiting for our aliments, like a doctor swooping in to save us from debilitating illness.
I wanted to believe I could control people through listening. I wanted to trust others. I want to know that one day will come where I talk to a person, and I will know exactly what to say, and there’s no pain when I talk to them.
Then the conversation becomes like a wave I surf instead of a concrete wall I bang my head on.
I wonder. Did I want to know people, or to trust them?