“For someone who says “I don’t know” is the full circle of wisdom, you appear to know a lot! I don’t mean that as a criticism BTW. If you really don’t know, why have you written so many articles?”
I don’t know anything. Not with any certainty. Not about the absolute nature of reality.
All I have are my own personal experiences to go by. And everything else extrapolated from there is a working hypothesis. Nothing more.
Everything I know, everything I understand, is relative. It’s in relation to or in negation to some other form of knowledge or understanding out there. I know nothing about what reality is. All I can talk about is what it isn’t.
So my knowledge, my words, my articles are mostly reactionary. They are not designed to tell you what life is. Only to say what it isn’t. They are designed to dismantle already held and cherished views about what reality is. And to reorient the attention away from the mind’s desperate desire to grasp what this is. Because to grasp it is to lose it.
Everything I know is only relative to what you know. I use my knowledge as a weapon to disarm you. But my weapon cannot create anything. It cannot illuminate. All it can do is cut down.
Like a machete that clears out an opening in an overgrown forest, my words can only open up a space, an opportunity within the awareness of the person reading. What you do with that space or opportunity is beyond my control. I am helpless to determine that. Whether you let it become overgrown again, whether you plant the seed of some new belief system or whether you learn to keep that space within the forest of your mind empty always is something you alone will determine.
This page isn’t about knowing. It is about unknowing. I am an iconoclast. I am compelled to tear down cherished beliefs. I am driven by hate as much as I am driven by love. But I am a fool. Make no mistake. I am a fool. Because I don’t know why I do what I do. I don’t understand it. I am simply compelled by some force I neither fully perceive nor understand.
I am humbled by my own insipid intelligence, by my glaring incomprehension. I look at a wasp sitting on my windshield as I write this and I’m blown away by the complexity yet utter simplicity of this phenomenal creature. And I have no idea what it is, how it comes to be. And beyond the wasp, I look at this world: the rice farmer spraying his fields with pesticide, pale blue mountains under cumulonimbus clouds pregnant with rain, two dragonflies locked in fornication as they soar above the power lines. I am amused and astounded by my profound ignorance.
What a deeply stupid creature I am! Seeing this used to depress me once upon a time. Now it only makes me laugh. I have no desire to know anymore. Because I simply can’t know. I’m an innocent idiot. And seeing this has freed me to just be.
I can’t tell you what any of this is. What a wasp is. It’s beyond description. Far too sublime to articulate with vulgar words. What is a wasp? What is a cloud? What is this world? What is life? I can’t articulate any of this.
The truth is there. Right in front of my eyes. I can see it! I AM it! But I don’t know what it is. I can’t tell you what it is. Yet “knowing” what it is simply doesn’t motivate me anymore.
However, what I CAN tell you is that it isn’t what YOU say it is. Whether you are a scientist or a spiritualist, I can tell you that you don’t know the wasp, you don’t know the cloud, you don’t know life. You don’t know shit. And I can write tomes about what you don’t know. I’ve already written close to 200 articles about it in less than a year. I can write another 200 more. 2000 more.
But I can’t write a single word about what I DO know. Cuz, I don’t know shit either.
All I can do is hack at every false belief, every nonsensical piece of speculation, every assumption taken for granted as fact. Hack, hack, hack, hack. In order to open up a space in a mind dense and overgrown with weeds. A space for you. A space for me. A space for anyone who wants to see. Because I have found sanity exists only in this space.
I use words to combat other words. But my words taken out of the context of such combat are worthless, flaccid, foolish things turning me into nothing more than
A wolf howling at the moon.
A dog barking in the wind.
An imbecile speaking in tongues.
Make no mistake.
The Tao I speak, is not the real Tao.