Today's posting stems from an odd combination: a visit to a children's playground and a book about genes.
I finished reading a book I've had for several years, but only just recently got around to reading. The book is The Divine Code of Life by Dr. Kazuo Murakami, Ph.D. Dr. Murakami is a geneticist who decoded the genetic makeup of the enzyme renin, which is responsible for high blood pressure.
Dr. Murakami's position is that genes can be "turned on" and "turned off", in opposition of the long-standing theory that genes are fixed and cannot be changed in any way. There is also a minor spiritual element to the book, in that Dr. Murakami states that the complexity of genes points to a non-human creative force; he calls this creative force "Something Great". Although some of the science presented in the book went over my head, I found the book to be a fascinating read.
In a chapter titled 'Life Lessons from the Lab', Murakami draws a distinction between what he calls "day science" (i.e. classes, class-related lab work, lectures, etc.) and "night science" (i.e. intuition, chance-taking, etc.). He argues that most scientific discoveries stem from "night science" -- sometimes out of sheer curiosity, sometimes out of sheer frustration.
His furthering of this distinction can best be described by the phrase "ignorance is bliss". He cites a conversation between him and Masaru Ibuka, one of the founders of Sony Corporation regarding the secret behind his success. He quotes Ibuka as saying:
"In retrospect, I think that I was lucky not to be an expert. If I had fully understood tape
recorders or transistors at the time, I would have been far too intimidated to attempt such
a thing. When I learned more about them later, I was aghast at my own foolhardiness."(pg. 85)
Murakami argues that too much "day science" can get in the way of "night science". In other words, too much scientific knowledge can actually be a hindrance to scientific pursuits. One example was his entering into research of the enzyme renin. He states that his students with higher grades were far more resistant to this pursuit because there was so much uncharted territory. He does not suggest that those with lower grades or lower intellect are more open to new ideas, but rather the accumulation of massive amounts of knowledge can persuade one to be less curious and, by extension, less persistent.
Murakami answers the question of how excess knowledge can sometimes be a hindrance:
"It is not that information itself is inherently bad; rather, knowing more than others can
delude us into believing our judgment to be superior. Overdependence on knowledge
dulls our intuition and can make us look too far ahead. When an endeavor does not
proceed smoothly, excessive knowledge can cause us to jump to conclusions; the
conclusion reached in such a situation is likely to be pessimistic; and we assume the
project is doomed to failure when there is still a prospect for success." (pp 87-88)
Here's where my visit to a children's playground comes in. I was at an outdoor crafts festival last weekend and it was sunny and hot. The area the festival took place was out in the open. The only shade to be found was just outside the festival space. A friend of mine, who I had not seen in some time, and I sought relief from the sun on a bench blissfully engulfed in shade next to a playground.
While we sat on the bench catching up the other on the goings-on in our lives, we watched the children playing. I thought of their sheer delight and pure abandon while climbing steps, sliding down slides, swinging on swings, etc. I thought of how we, as adults, for the most part, lose that sheer delight and pure abandon. Certainly, many of us engage in recreational activities in which we can experience such things, but we have to plan when it will happen (i.e. weekend, days/nights of the week, vacation). (No argument here about planning, as long as you can find the opportunities to feel that delight and abandon.) All a child needs is a parent or guardian willing to say, "Let's go!"
Children come by such things so much more easily, don't they?
Obviously, it is because of their age, which means less responsibility and less knowledge than an adult. Then, "growing up" -- not getting older, but "growing up" -- happens. We have to go to school; we have to try and get good grades; we have move out on our own; we have to go to work; we have to meet responsibilities, such as doing out job well, paying our bills, saving money, and so on. If marriage is in the cards, we have to be faithful to our spouse and meet familial responsibilities.
During this time, we also add to our accumulated knowledge. We learn the proverbial "readin', writin', and 'rithmetic"; we learn chores are a part of family life and how to do them; we learn going to bed late when you have to get up early is a really bad idea; we learn how to do the duties of our job; we learn that frivolous and unrestrained spending leaves little to no money for paying bills and that not paying them is a big problem; we (hopefully) learn that money does not grow on trees; we learn to love and that love can be as beautiful as it can be hurtful; we learn the value of truthfulness, honesty, integrity, and loyalty, etc.
We also learn the down side of humanity and of life. Life is hard; life is not always fair. People can be helpful; people can be hurtful.
Just as Dr. Murakami finds excessive knowledge a hindrance in science, so too we might say the same, to a degree, in terms of life itself. If I was playing in a playground and the size and height of the equipment were adjusted for adults, I might to be so keen to try some things. Why? Because I might not have the abandon because I am aware that could get hurt, like landing funny and injuring a foot or an ankle. Keep the equipment kids' size, I'd be more apt to climb on board. Knowledge (i.e. an injured foot or ankle hurts a lot) is a hindrance. Not necessarily a bad hindrance, in terms of caution and safety, but a hindrance of sorts.
Just as those who have a fear of failure, the same may be argued. Someone who has tried a similar course of action(s) and failing at them, whatever failure would mean, might be less likely to try again because of their knowledge of their past experiences. Similarly, someone who has never tried a particular course of action being afraid to try is likely basing it on his/her knowledge of failure as a whole. Neither past experiences with one result nor the general knowledge of failure are logical reasons to not try, but those forms of knowledge, in addition to fear, of course, become hindrances.
If you are familiar with the phrase "the more you know, the less you know", you may have guessed that was where I was going with today's posting. It would seem that Dr. Murakami's corollary to that adage would read as "the more you know, the less you're likely to try".
Smarts are one thing. I would not trade the knowledge I have gained through life experiences and formal schooling for anything, and am truly grateful for them. I try to not let that accumulated knowledge get in the way of experiences. I admit I do not regularly engage in a lot of "jumping off cliffs", but I try to at least push myself to try new things and, possibly, to learn new things along the way.
It is not hard to imagine the scientific discoveries that would have been abandoned had it been that knowledge held scientists back time and time again. The same can certainly be said for ourselves in our day-to-day lives. We are not meant to simply learn and apply knowledge. We are meant to engage and to experience new things. In other words, do not let the more you know keep you from the more you can try.
Terry
No comments:
Post a Comment