conversation is an engine

What you know once belonged to someone else

When I was 19 I knew everything there was to know.

I had been plopped—fully formed—into a pair of sneakers to walk the earth. And so I did, learning and responding as one does, with fresh enthusiasm and proper disdain for the less-knowing who gadded about my footsteps.

A decade later I began to notice how much of what I knew came from the people around me. A decade after that I could locate some sources of my own knowing: family and friends. Professors, pastors and prisoners. Institutions and anarchists. Sacred texts and ephemeral whispers.

Some conversations were limiting. Some texts opened new ground. And vice versa. Gradually I came to understand how little I knew. About most anything. Especially the stuff I studied in school. Especially the stuff for which I would give my life.

And these connections: some electric knowing transmits when we connect.

These connections are not to be missed. These connections should not be easily dismissed.

And no one arrives fully-formed.

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Image credit: William Heick via MPD