A secondary question popped into my mind recently, as I was pondering a related primary question. I find this often happens to me: I find myself mulling over a primary question for which there seems to be no immediate or obvious answer. As I continue to contemplate that question, a secondary question often comes to mind. When I shift my attention to that second question—which is usually a more profound one—clarity sometimes comes.
The initial question that spoke to me recently was “What should I be doing right now?” At any given time, we face choices. We must choose what to do or how to respond to something, hundreds of times a day. Our response is most often an unconscious one, and we do quite well with most of those kinds of choices. They are also usually rather straightforward and don’t require a lot of attention on our part.
There are other times, however, when it's not at all clear what we should do… when things get complex, and we find ourselves wrestling with the issue at the conscious level. This can be especially true, when we've had a question bother us for some time, and we've just not been able to come up with a good answer. Often it's because the primary question that appears before us is not really digging down to an essential level; it’s not getting at the real issue.
So, as I pondered my primary “What should I do?” question, a secondary one came to mind. I realized it was more fundamental: “What do I need to know?” I think this secondary question came to mind, because I feel that knowledge must often precede action; in order to do something right, I need to have the appropriate knowledge first.
We need to have some basic kind of knowledge, in order to choose wisely; to thrive, or even to survive. If I have a reasonably accurate knowledge about something, then my response—my action—will be smarter. In contrast, I can't expect to do things well, if I'm confused or deluded. Thus that more fundamental question came to mind: “What do I need to know?” Maybe I was getting somewhere.
In fact, this more basic question is an appropriate one for any creature. Every critter wants to survive, to stay alive, and therefore needs some crucial knowledge about how to do so. For example, any animal “knows” it needs to avoid eating poisonous things. A bee “knows” how to locate pollen. A bird “knows” to avoid hawks. And those creatures who have acquired the necessary knowledge (by surviving) pass it on to their offspring. This is an excellent example of the process of evolution, as well as the origin of natural intelligence.
While most animals naturally respond to what they need to know and thus what they need to do, we humans have been granted a more advanced level of cognition. So, rather than respond inherently and immediately, we ruminate on the question. We imagine various alternatives and envisage the future. We try to factor many possibilities into our choices. We are driven by the fact that we not only want to survive—we want to thrive. This is a special quality we humans have. It has brought us to the dominant position we occupy today.
All this cognitive power of ours can lead to complications and problems, however. Some of us, when we wonder about what to do, decide to try to seek control. A major objective of our technologies has been to deliver that control—whether it be over Nature or each other. Technology has given us the power—we believe—to secure our welfare and safety. The danger is that, although we've gained some command over our existence through the use of technology, it often becomes a greater threat, which may come to control us. Technology has a way of getting out of hand. It’s not necessarily a smart way to survive.
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