Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge?
Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?
I heard these words spoken in a Masterpiece program we watched a few days ago and they stuck with me. Written close to a century ago, they speak clearly to the state of the world today, and to a trap I’m prone to get caught in.
Maybe it was when I was in college studying computer programming that I first heard the term “Information age” or it might have been another time altogether. Doesn’t matter. If there was any doubt, the arrival of internet access for all makes it a certainty.
(I remember when access to the internet arrived at work. We had to get special permission to use it and we’re expected to only be online during our lunch hour for the purpose of learning how to use it. Man. I must be old.)
Today, there’s nothing we can’t research. The accuracy of my research might be questionable, and the volume of information I sometimes have to wade through to get to the facts can make me lazy. Or gullible. Overwhelmed. Scattered. All of the above.
Information will shout at me all day long if I allow it. It will keep me from my better work. I don’t need 24/7 world news, constant commentary, or to fall into the addiction of checking for notifications. In fact, wisdom tells me these things are detrimental to my well being.
I’ve intentionally checked out of following everything all the time (not that I was literally doing that, but you get the picture). One might even say that, to some extent, I’m uninformed on some world events. Know what? I’m okay with that.
I’m cultivating other things. Simple and quiet things. I’m working on listening for wisdom more than allowing myself to become overwhelmed with information.
And so today is Monday in mid-April and the weather forecast for this week is stellar. I have things to tend to for Story Circle Network (a wonderful organization that promotes and creates opportunities for women to tell their stories. I’m a longtime member and serve on the board). It’s time to toss some seeds in the ground at my community garden plot. I’ve got a float booked. Watercolour beckons. The backyard invites.
My goal for the week is simple: to let moments drop like pearls, one at a time, each one precious.