Much to My Surprise

        My daughter asked me what some of my life's greatest surprises have been.  

        Life’s greatest surprise did not land as a sudden epiphany, but rather as a gradual revelation. What began as suspicion in early adulthood, loitering on the edge of my consciousness, gradually wheedled its way front and center and demanded my attention. I had to acknowledge and accept the fact that my persistent agnosticism represented the human condition. Nobody knows what this universe, and the life we experience within its confines, is all about. The wisest people alive today, indeed, those who have ever lived, have no better knowledge or insight into that mystery than I do myself. Yet, some claim with certainty to own the inside scoop: “We are here to learn!” “We were put on this Earth to do good!” “I was created to pursue God’s plan!” … some declare with absolute certitude. Others contend, with equal conviction, that the universe is governed by random action; it arose from nothing, with no purpose, no plan, by no superior intelligence of any sort. A prevalent view among leading physicists and cosmologists purports an endless string of universes, all generated by unexplainable, unintelligent, random chance. By logical extension, the existence of infinite universes makes certain that there are endless replicas of me and you pursuing lives of quiet, or in some cases noisy, desperation.

        I grant, with humility, to these scientists their deeper insight into the physical nature of existence, but as to its character, meaning, or purpose, I concede nothing to their opinion over my own.

        So what, you might ask, is my opinion? I answer with utter conviction and no hesitation, “I don’t know!” I don’t know anything. But, before you conclude that I carry a surfeit of humility, let me hasten to add, “You don’t know, and they don’t know either.” Nobody knows.

        Lao Tzu addresses knowledge in the 71st verse of the Tao te Ching:

The sage accepts the dis-ease of not knowing,

The fool suffers the disease of his certainty.

In accepting his dis-ease, the sage is healthy,

whilst the fool languishes in the sickness of certitude.

        The above wording is my own paraphrasing.  Have I actually rendered in English the meaning that Lao Tzu intended? I don’t know; I have no understanding of Chinese character script.  My interpretation was gleaned after reading other English translations, many of which, no doubt, reflect the biases of the interpreter.  The hyphens are intentional and my own. The word, "disease", when seen in whole, connotes sickness, but when the word is broken into component syllables, as I have done with the hyphen, “dis-ease” can be interpreted as discomfort, one who is ill at ease. I have attributed each rendition with the use appropriate to its meaning.

        The crux of the verse is the paradox that the highest knowledge, i.e., wisdom, resides in uncertainty. I’m reminded of the statement, also attributed to Lao Tzu, “Those who know don’t speak, those who speak don’t know.” The one who is silent is receptive to insight, not only what she may glean through contemplation, but also through receptivity to the sagacity of others.

        I conclude this essay with a cherry of irony on top of the sundae served above, “I’m pretty certain of what I have written.”