How do we know what we know?
I asked this question to a group in the Conversations that Connect class I ran last night, in pairs, in an inquiry process. Participants found it quite intriguing to explore the depths of how they know stuff, how they understand the world. The question asked how their opinions are formed and how they make decisions. In each group, each person brought up different ways they learn and know their world. I was surprised by the degree to which everyone resorted to ChatGPT and how that has revolutionised their curiosity and research.
This was inevitable I guess, with the way technology has captured us.
Not one person in the group admitted to just sitting and listening, or being in nature, or learning from their group of friends, or the stories their nanny told them when they were young, and how the whanau made sure there was enough fish in the lagoon for ongoing harvesting.
And yet, isn’t this an important question to ask in times like these, when we are flooded with information from the news and social media, captivated by sensation, clinging to fragments of knowledge so we have something to add in conversation? Our awareness has expanded into a vast and complex global field, but at the cost of not noticing the relational and local. Not prioritising the relationships.
100 years ago, we would not have known that there was a catastrophe in the village of Monschau (for want of a village), but we would have noticed that our neighbour had not put her washing out that day, and the fruit was lying on the ground around her orange tree. We would have quickly recognised that this was not typical and tapped on the door to check that she was all right.
These days, people don't really notice what's happening in their neighbourhood, because they're inside on the screen – or otherwise employed fulfilling the demands of modern life and gathering the resources for it. We are not noticing because priorities have changed, and we have lost the ability to be present to what and who is here-now. The consequences are becoming evident.
Noticing is a powerful act. Noticing is a lost art; noticing takes time to cultivate, and time has been snatched away from us.
Imagine becoming more conscious of what surrounds us, adopting a truly relational way of knowing. Imagine being more present with those around us, sitting down to have dinner with our families each night, spending time in conversation with others, noticing the trees on the corner and the birds that visit them, or simply attuning to the subtle changes in our everyday environment.
I’m drawn to learning through relationship, whether with people, nature, or the objects that fill our lives. How much richer might our world become if we gave more time and attention to the relationships that truly matter? The kinds of intelligence nurtured through this way of knowing could guide us toward a far more harmonious and sustainable future.
Kaye Avery