No-one Can Teach You Anything

In a summer in my mid twenties, a buddy and I discovered the Tao Te Jing and it blew our minds wide open. For those unfamiliar, this is a book of 81 verses written by the sage Lao Tzu, around the 4th century BC. Some claim it was actually a ~250 BC compilation of the works of a number of Chinese authors over the prior century or two, but personally I like to think of it as the output of one very wise, fu manchu moustache havin' dude. It is the main text upon which Taoist religion and philosophy is based, and has garnered a following of about 20 million souls worldwide. Apparently it's also the second-most translated book in the world next to the Bible, so I guess there must be something to it!

The Lao Tzu myth includes an origin story for the text in which, upon leaving the city, the sage was asked by the guard at the city gates (who recognized Lao Tzu) to write him a guide for life — an instruction manual of sorts that would provide him with a handy dandy ethos by which to live; a moral code. Remember, this is before God decided to finally deliver the "good word" himself through <insert modern prophet of your choice, here>. Before then, we're led to believe that human beings were just flailing about for like…. 100,000 years without the faintest idea of how to conduct themselves, perhaps searching for a sign like the guard at the gates. But I digress.

Back to the myth. Lao Tzu had never written down his wisdom before (words not being strictly necessary, in his estimation) but he calmly obliged the guard's request (words also not being an encumbrance). Thus was born the Tao Te Jing (loosely translated to "The Book of The Way").

It can be read in a few hours.

For a couple of secular university grads, recently and unceremoniously tossed into the fray of our emerging lives, apron strings severed and decidedly guidepost-less, this discovery was a sheer delight. We each bought ourselves a copy of the Mitchell translation (somewhat panned for its taking of poetic liberties) and spent the summer fully engaged in philosophical ping pong, quoting the wisdom within its pages to each other whenever the moment seemed right.

"The Tao that can be named is not the eternal name! Naming is the origin of all particular things! Awwww yeahhhh!"

"The best way to deter theft is to avoid purchasing expensive items!" *high-five*

The words seemed beautiful and wise, and gave a couple of philosophy newbies our first taste of what awakening to our emerging wisdom might feel like. Maybe we could find our way after all.

Needless to say we were far too young to really grok approximately 97% of it, but we didn't know that - nor did it matter. We'd discovered the treasure of an ancient Chinese code for living life and, ruminating like weathered sages atop a misty mountain, we recognized and reveled in at least those truths that we could understand. We were on a path; a path which also regularly led to Sam the Record Man, where we would inevitably purchase one classic jazz album or another, further burnishing our emerging high-brow personas.

Sages also enjoy a dash of jazz

That was a fun summer. We laughed incessantly. We talked about life. I had sushi for the first time. I mean - what else would a sage class one eat, right?

Years passed, and I would periodically return to the book many times - sometimes to look up a passage, and sometimes to read the whole thing again. On one of these occasions, my reunion had me discovering things that I seemed to have missed before. It was an odd feeling - I'd read the whole book many times, but now there were new "a-haaa" moments in different places, just as when I had first read it.

This pattern would repeat itself each time I returned to the text over the years. I would re-read, and then there would be new knowledge. It was puzzling - did I just keep forgetting what I had learned last time? The words seemed familiar, but their meaning was new - like Lao Tzu was tweaking them slightly each time I closed and re-opened the book's covers.

It finally dawned on me, of course, that the book wasn't changing at all. I was. I was learning things, but perhaps not appreciating my own intuition or knowledge until I saw it poetically crystallized in the pages facing me, forcing consciousness of my knowledge in the moment. The cookies were baking all along, but the Tao Te Ching was the *ding* of the oven bell.

Now I'm not comparing myself to Lao Tzu… and of course the book itself may very well have been the beginning of my newfound knowledge in many areas. The Tao Te Ching rang my bell countless times.

But I started to think that… no one can really teach you anything. Personal experience is necessary to contextualize and internalize knowledge deeply and intuitively before you can really claim knowledge as wisdom.

Of course I know that teachers do exist… good teachers point the way, outline, encourage, and even inspire (thanks Mr. Allen!). Louis C. K. once hilariously quipped that teachers have the unenviable job of getting kids to "know Math against their will while they're exploding sexually!"

Louis C. K. on teachers

But students must practice and… seek. Actually trying to compute the cross product of two vectors — and then having an experience that requires that knowledge in your own life — comprises the other half of the knowledge puzzle.

Parents are always trying to figure out how to teach their kids the right lessons, but somehow they always seem to resist this well-intentioned effort. Little Emily just doesn't care about the value of planning ahead until she forgets that the Taylor Swift tickets went on sale yesterday.

Try to teach someone the 17 different ways to play a C-major chord on a guitar and they may just tell you to "fuck right off!" but if they slowly find those shapes by playing songs, connecting them through an evolving understanding of the fretboard, they'll eventually obtain that knowledge in spite of the fact that it seems basically impossible to learn at the outset.

The C-Major scale on the guitar fretboard. Thanks, teacher!

You may find it ironic that I share my thoughts on this site, but also purport not to be able to teach you anything. True enough. But you may well not yet be conscious of what you already know. I'd be willing to bet you're harbouring thousands of thoughts and ideas… fugitives clamouring for daylight… but as of today relegated to the ironic (and hilarious) "unknown knowns" quadrant of knowledge. Surely we can set some of them free together :) .

If you want to be wise, listen to teachers, but make sure you become a seeker. Immerse yourself in your curiosity and engage with whatever it turns up. Your a-ha moments are coming. Life, your practice, will eventually connect the dots and make you a sage.

Source: Reddit