Knowledge.
It’s all powerful. And all essential.
We can’t get far without knowing much of anything.
But just how far we do go does not necessarily depend on how much knowledge we accrue.
Yes, knowledge is a paradox. Its importance can only be measured through its applicability.
In other words, what we know is far less important that what we do with that knowledge.
Several years ago, I took an online assessment.
Much like the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, it measured my personal traits and classified them. But unlike the Myers-Briggs test, it only focused on strengths.
After the assessment was complete, I analyzed the results. Two stuck out — Input and Learner.
I was confused at first. Weren’t both of those terms the same thing?
But the more I thought about it, the more this bifurcation made sense.
You see, it’s one thing to rack up oodles of facts and figures. It’s another to use that knowledge to make the world a better place. And to make our own lives more fulfilling at the same time.
In other words, the process of learning is a more applicably useful skill than the process of absorption. All things being equal, it’s better to have the skills of a learner than to simply make one’s brain a pure input mechanism of the world’s amassed knowledge.
This is not an absolute rule, of course. There are notable exceptions.
Jeopardy contestants can make a fortune simply by amassing a wealth of data within their brains, and withdrawing from that memory bank instantaneously when prompted. Baseball statisticians have had a prominent place within the realms of TV telecasts and newspaper box scores for years. And now, their data is being used to impact the strategy of the game.
Still, each of these examples required more than pure recall. Each, in its own way, required application.
The Jeopardy contestants had to know the steps to take and people to contact to make it to the show’s auditions in the first place. They had to adapt their knowledge recall skills to the rules of the game instantaneously in those auditions, simply to show up on our TV screens and smartphones.
Baseball statisticians had to get to know the whims of sports media members — the newspaper writers, radio hosts and TV commentators who asked for the data statisticians had at hand. These media members were focused on telling stories to a captive audience, not reading lists of facts. The statisticians had to learn to serve up the data in a manner that fit into those narratives as seamlessly as Cinderella’s foot fit into the glass slipper.
Yes, even in the environments primed for pure retention and recall, learning is essential.
The Input vs. Learner split is not a matter of opinion. It has its roots in Information Theory.
Information Theory conveys how we build our knowledge repositories. Yet, perhaps most critically, it describes how we organize it.
According to a prevalent Information Theory framework, all that we know can be split into three terms: Data, Information and Knowledge.
Data are the bits and bytes of raw information. Think of data as the Excel spreadsheet you’ve yet to open. In other words, data on their own are unintelligible — aside from our recognition of their existence.
Information is a surprise. The unexpected nature of the information shakes us from our routine. The shock to our system makes us hyper-aware of what’s been thrown at us. It aids our ability to remember.
And Knowledge is simply the repository of information we’ve accumulated over time. The novelty is long gone. Yet, it remains in our memory banks, ready for recall when needed.
This framework favors what’s new over what’s known. It states that we feed off of novelty, and that our yearning for that sensation fuels our growth.
This is bad news for those whose brains are configured for Knowledge Input — as I am. Most of the time, our talents are as useless as the wings on a penguin.
Yet, I believe this framework is spot on. From the time we are young, pushing our boundaries stimulates us. Novelty drives us to take our first steps and say our first words. It helps us overcome Stranger Danger and grow into independent personalities. It keeps us engaged through more than a decade of schooling — even as our bodies and our interactions with our peers evolve.
Even after adolescence, novelty reigns supreme. It’s what convinces us to apply to that job, to go on that date, to take the plunge and get hitched, to buy that house, to adopt that pet or to have kids of our own. With each step, we learn and grow — by necessity, if not by sheer willpower.
Discovery is second nature to us. It’s been passed intuitively from generation to generation for eons. From Eve’s first bite of the forbidden apple all the way to modern day, we’ve put a premium on discovery over knowledge.
Our world is built around this paradigm. How could it not be?
Everything from financial markets to academic research is about finding that new bit of insight. About getting that adrenaline rush from the pure bliss of novelty. About going where we haven’t been before.
We speak glowingly of the dreamers, marvel at the innovators and laud the risk-takers. In a world primed for discovery, these brave souls do more than inspire us. They light the way.
Knowledge is just the base in this construct. It’s the foundation from which new discoveries can be made.
Knowledge certainly has value. Why else would we mourn the burning of the library at Alexandria, more than 2,000 years after the blaze turned the great repository of knowledge to ash?
Yet, the value of knowledge is not infinite. In the societies we’ve built, facts and figures can only get us so far.
The implication is simple.
To grow our potential, we must expand our perspective.
We must be open to discovery, to novelty. To learning what’s possible and making it reality — even if it takes us away from the cocoon of what we already know.
Of course, in practice, it’s not that simple.
It’s a challenge for us to keep pushing the envelope. To motivate ourselves to keep finding what’s new and surprising. To embrace the continuum of change.
It’s all too easy to get comfortable. To settle into familiar patterns. To ease off the throttle.
There’s less resistance this way. Life is more of a breeze and less of a grind.
The siren song is calling. Calling for us to circle the wagons around what we know and call it a day.
We must not heed these cries. We must push forward.
Our growth depends on it. So do the betterment of ourselves and the world around us.
There is no time to take a shortcut on this mission. Not yesterday. Not today. Not tomorrow.
The next chapter in our journey awaits. And what we know is just the start.
Discover on.