27 things I don't know
My growing catalogue of uncertainties
“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now.” – Rainer Maria Rilke
I AM NEVER more engaged in my creative work than when I’m deviating from—or outright rebelling against—some sort of convention. I’m always looking for opportunities to do it. In fact, this intro is a good example: despite the stylistic injunctions you will hear from writing guides and English professors everywhere, I relished playing with this paragraph to make it start, and finish, with the letter I.
Along the same vein, when I first read Sasha Chapin’s brilliant listicle-style article called 50 Things I Know, and then Mari Andrew’s equally brilliant 100 Things I Know (and a few others that followed on their heels), I knew it was only a matter of time before I tried to make my own contribution to this fun and lively format…only with a twist.
It is not enough to zig when others zag just for the sake of it, though, like a teenager dying their hair blue just to annoy their mum. To truly capture my imagination, an act of creative deviance must have merit. It must stand up on its own and point people to a deeper truth, a new perspective, or a more meaningful conversation.
Don’t get me wrong. Making a list of hard-won wisdom feels like a really worthwhile activity. What’s so appealing about Sasha’s and Mari’s articles, besides getting a glimpse of their unique insights, is that they’re an invitation to clarify my own insights and make them legible so that they may be valuable to myself and others.
But even as Sasha’s and Mari’s insights thrilled me and challenged me, I found myself thinking that it wouldn’t be those insights I’d most enjoy chatting about at the dinner table. Instead, I would prefer to hear them share what they’re stuck on, confused by, unsure about, or tentative with. Give me fifty conversation starters instead of fifty conversation enders, any day of the week.
Sasha, Mari, and YOU if you happen to be reading this, please consider accepting this writing challenge and publishing it, as I would genuinely enjoy reading about the things you do not know.
In the spirit of thoughtful rebellion, playful experimentation, and sincere curiosity, then, here are 27 things I do not know…that puzzle, prod, and preoccupy me.
I don’t know if my earliest memory (which is of toddler me standing in my crib late at night crying for my parents who I could hear fighting downstairs) is actually my memory, or my mum’s. And I therefore don’t know whether it’s worth me reading into this memory in order to try to make more sense of the person I became, or whether it’s even worth reading into any old memories at all.
I don’t know if it’s possible to trust another person completely. I say this because even when it comes to the few people in my life who I know, rationally, I can trust fully, I still sometimes have lingering feelings that I can’t, or that they can’t trust me fully either.
I don’t know if I’d want to be able to completely trust people, since there seems to be a relationship between untrustworthiness and attractiveness.
I don’t know what the most useful way of understanding anger is.
I don’t know how to accurately explain this weird thing I can do inside my stomach. I can basically create on-demand what feels like an explosive electrical charge around my solar plexus, which emanates outwards through my entire body. It is so powerful and I am so sensitive to its effect that I can only do it for a split second before stopping.
I don’t know what would inspire me to produce the work I’m proudest of, give me the courage to put myself out there, or make me feel satisfied with my life if I no longer felt driven to seek other peoples’ attention and appreciation.
I don’t know how to reliably tell the difference between the desire to face challenges I should face because they will help me to grow, and the desire to face challenges I should not face because they won’t.
I don’t know how to direct a coaching client without being directive. In other words, I don’t know how to suggest that they should try something in a way that allows them to choose it as their own and not have it handed to them.
I don’t know whether a client’s lack of belief that they can change is a warning sign that I should not coach them, or an invitation to do just that.
I don’t know how to reliably remain unattached to outcomes I believe my coaching clients should aim for.
I don’t know how to explain the value I got from going to art school, or how I would convince dubious parents to send their kids to art school.
I don’t know what taboos are left for art to break.
I don’t know how to fully enjoy a writing project when it has been conceived and/or paid for by somebody other than myself.
I don’t know grammar. I know what a verb is, and what a noun is, and I can explain what an adjective is I think. But that’s all. The rest is a mystery. This is making learning Spanish very hard.
I don’t know how to tell people who aren’t digital nomads that I am a digital nomad without sounding either like I’m boasting or that I’m a hobo.
I don’t know why the more I travel (I’ve been a working traveller now for almost four years), the harder it is to talk about the places I’m travelling to.
I don’t know why self-help is something people tend to either embrace completely or reject vehemently, why it’s so rare to meet somebody who is ambivalent about it.
I don’t know why I predominantly get kicks out of reading nonfiction, and not fiction. I recently saw somebody say: “If you don’t read fiction, then I don’t trust you.” and this gave me the chills because I understand it on an emotional level while not being able to explain why.
I don’t know what the future of masculinity is.
I don’t know how I would respond (eg, how I’d treat others, how I’d treat myself, whether I’d continue to write, who I’d choose as friends, etc) if I experienced a massive tragedy like becoming paralysed, losing a child, or having to fight in a war.
I don’t know how, when I hear stories about the world being only one button and one unhinged dictator away from total nuclear annihilation, I am not more freaked out.
I don’t know why joggers/runners who get mad at people for being in their way choose to run along the most pedestrian-heavy routes at the busiest of times.
I don’t know how certain toilet bowl designs get green-lighted and rolled out publicly in malls and train stations, specifically the ones with motion-activated flushes that flush five times while you’re sitting there, wasting gallons of water (when they’re presumable supposed to be saving it!) and drenching your trousers and your arse in the process.
Relatedly, I don’t know why we in England think it’s OK not to have bidet’s in our bathrooms, why we expect to be able to clean ourselves properly without the aid of water. We would never make a curry and only wipe the pan with a dry cloth, would we?
I don’t know how to tie a tie.
I don’t know how to braid hair according to my wife’s standards (honestly I don’t really know how to do it well at all).
And, of course, I don’t know what I don’t know.
⬥
Hey, it’s Harrison 👋 Thanks for reading my publication about creativity as a tool for personal growth.
If you’re ready to make a major career shift through a creative project, I offer professional 1:1 coaching—using principles of Positive Psychology—to help you navigate that transformation.
If you’re interested in exploring what you could achieve by partnering with me, you can send me an email and we’ll set up a call to chat.
Related post
I really enjoyed reading your list Harrison. It gives me more insight into who you are and your humor shines through.
What a great list! I am in the middle of drafting something about the opposite at the moment; about how we often know more than we think we know, when I noticed this in my inbox. I feel inspired to write my own list, starting with your last point: I don't know what I don't know (trusting that I'll discover quite a few things during the process)