It so happens that a bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing, whether it’s book knowledge, street knowledge, carnal knowledge. The beginning of knowing is the end of all contentment, as a little knowledge begets the desire for more, and often the price for gaining more is dear; then, the groundwork for addiction has been laid.
Miles Davis’ music, for example, is a recent addiction. I could listen to In a Silent Way repeatedly (and, in fact, have done so – repeatedly). Something about the hushed, shimmering waterfall behind the opening guitar line is positively erotic, draining the tension from my mind and drawing me away from the concerns of others and into my own mind.
This is no bad thing, as I spend out my limited time frequently in worry, concerned that others are happy, pleased, contented, safe. Stepping out as all but the most fragile amongst us are inevitably compelled to do, alone into a world that is often filled with befuddling images and heartless, droning men we once considered cavaliers, is a disappointing endeavor. What seemed clear and honest is actually dim, small, and often pathetic.
Somehow I’ve slid into this world hopelessly unarmored, and seeking something substantive on which to hang my proverbial hat. Experience brings knowledge; knowledge brings lust for more knowledge, and so the endless cycle of desire for more information feeds on itself. Mostly I dig in technology and management, but of late this no longer satisfies. I need some intensity.
We are far too comfortable with laugh tracks and canned applause. Maybe what we really need is a river of tears on occasion.