Twisted Logic

Yesterday, I was sitting in my living room with some friends musing about life. At some point in the conversation, one of my friends turned to the rest and said, I just want to know. Though this statement is taken out of detailed context, the context wouldn't have helped you much. For you grammar nerds out there, the direct object was ambiguous and nowhere to be found. I looked at her for a second, then asked, know what? She looked off into the distance and smiled. Just...everything. I just want to know everything there is to know. I half-nodded, probably because I only half agreed. There are many things in this world I want to know. From searchable facts to what other people are thinking and feeling to why things were said to what is going to happen. But sometimes, not knowing is just as exciting, or well, safe. Knowledge is sometimes a curse, though, I responded quietly, feeling guilty about bringing her down from her life-high.

A couple weeks ago, my cousin, who is commencing the college-admissions process, sent me an email chock-full of questions. What should and shouldn't I do? As I began typing out my responses, I realized that I could only make suggestions based on opinions and past experiences. Past experiences because of which, or despite which, I was admitted to college. I ended my email by saying there was no way to know for sure what would impress an admissions officer. Stick to your passions, I wrote. It sounds so wise, but I can just imagine how frustrated he must have been by my fluffy response.

That's life, though. There's no way of being completely sure of anything until it has been experienced. Towards the end of my sophomore year of college, someone suggested to me to apply to an open summer intern position at Hewlett-Packard. A tech-geek company? I scoffed. No thanks. I'm a Psychologist. I'm applying to a summer program in France. (Don't try to decipher the logic. Though if you find something, let me know.) After a lot of arm twisting and leg pulling (just metaphorical) from my "tech-geek" brother and father, I finally submitted my resume. Throughout the entire process, I was completely closed-minded. Unable to understand how I could possibly apply my then(still?)-primitive knowledge of human psychology. Those of you know me know that I received and accepted the position, despite knowing that it meant I had to shorten my summer abroad in France by two weeks.

That position, at the innovation center of HP with a psychologist-boss who continues to inspire me daily, has been fundamental to the initial discoveries of my life path. And it has been this process of discovery that has made the experience so fulfilling. Having known from the start would not have been nearly as rewarding.

We just finished reading Freud's case study of Dora in one of my classes. This was a situation in which Freud imposed his logic and analysis onto a patient who knew that his interpretation was completely incorrect. He was essentially telling her why she felt a certain way when she knew he was wrong. This resulted in the patient leaving Freud. Despite his "doctor" title, he simply did not know. Could not know.

Not a day goes by where I don't think, Thank goodness that happened, or more importantly, Thank goodness that didn't happen. No matter how stressful or disturbing an experience might seem at the get-go, it's only in looking back with perspective that we can truly value its worth. Even if we couldn't know from the very start. And sometimes (don't freak out, just sometimes), "knowledge" may taint the experience, making it less worth it.

Because I miss France and because she studied under Freud, I'm going to turn to author Anais Nin for her thoughts on "knowledge". The possession of knowledge does not kill the sense of wonder and mystery, she wrote. There is always more mystery. I like my friend a lot (she wouldn't have been in my living room if I didn't), so I'm willing to accept this as a compromise. There's a lot I want to know. But there's a lot I want to wonder as well.