The space between knowledge and wisdom



Hello blank page. Here we are again, you and I. You waiting in anticipation for me to tap tap tap and play a melody of words upon your page.  A series of letters, strung together that when read inspire the mind to dream, to think and to grow. It’s been so long I too began to wonder if I could ever write anything worth sharing again. Words and thoughts worthy of those three powerful words, dream, think and grow. Who am I to think anything I have to say could conjure such things in another human being when I couldn’t even muster them in myself.

I’ve been doing some being since I’ve been gone.  Slowly shedding yet another layer of the skin I’ve accumulated in my years here in this body, living this life. It’s a never-ending process, the dismantling of the self. The self I worked so hard to create, but have realized was a self I no longer wanted to be.  There is that moment of realization, when you see who you have become and you see who you want to be and yet there is no set of instructions on how to merge the two or to get from one to the other. There is simply a knowing that you desire to be, something else. There is a long dark tunnel between knowledge and wisdom and I seem to be stuck there.


It has been frustrating at times to dance between knowledge and wisdom, to see that you know but are not yet wise. To watch as you stumble and fall flat on your face even as you saw the bump in the road. You knew it was there and yet you trip over it anyway. That’s the difference between knowledge and wisdom.  Making it from the dark side of the tunnel to the light.


And it takes patience and time to allow yourself to learn the steps to this dance, to be able to skip through that long dark tunnel, to fall down and get back up. To keep dancing even if you can’t see very far in front of you, and to trust that the knowing will eventually lead to wisdom and the bruises on your knees will heal and you will dance with your eyes closed leaping over every bump.


Until it’s time to learn a new dance and you start again at the beginning of yet another long dark tunnel, with bumps in different places and new hazards yet unknown. I’d like to say it get easier as you enter each new phase, and sometimes it does.  But more often than not you’ll find yourself back on your knees, with new scrapes and bruises to heal, hopefully with the one piece of wisdom that will carry you forward, that you will make it through this tunnel and these new wounds will heal. Just keep dancing and falling, dancing and falling, and laughing a little each time you do.