By Min Yu
“Our lives are limited,
But knowledge is limitless.
To pursue the limitless
With the limited
Is dangerous.” – Zhuangzi
Ever since grade school, worrying about not knowing enough has heavily presented in my approach to learning and the world around me. These feelings grew stronger over the years – the more I learnt, the more anxious I became – and reached a tipping point when I came to the United States for graduate school. I always found myself anxious about who and what article I could cite at the end of a sentence in almost everything I was writing. I worried that because English is not my first language I couldn’t say it better than anyone who published their work in English. I also worried that I had yet to learn so many studies and theories that I couldn’t make a convincing statement.
I didn’t realize how dangerous these worries became for both my personal life and my work until I reached the tipping point. Oftentimes, I would not stop reading and digging through articles on various databases until I found the seemly “perfect endorsement” of my words from other scholars’ work. I would find myself swimming in piles of articles to look for specific phrases to put in my writing. I would be so angry at myself for not knowing certain theory that I would stop whatever I was doing at the moment to look for more.
There were certainly consequences of these moments. I often forgot to eat or sleep at regular hours or leave my desk unless I absolutely had to. Even more critically, I found myself not remembering much of what I read and what I wrote. I started to forget what my key argument or statements were in the middle of the panic reading. Eventually, I realized that I forgot what I had already known and where I had drawn my strength from.
After reconnecting with my Chinese root, both emotionally and intellectually, I reminded myself of Zhuangzi’s words, especially the discussion in his Inner Chapters on the relationship between limitless knowledge and limited life one has. For this blog post, I resist the urge to read more on how other people understand his philosophy. Instead, I focus on my own reflection and lessons I have learnt over the years to explain what I quote at the beginning of this essay.
For me, what Zhuangzi points out through the quote is that while our life is limited, knowledge is limitless; pursuing the limitless with the limited will lead to troublesome/dangerous consequences. I have several reflections in mind when thinking about his idea of limitless knowledge and connecting it to our way of living in academia. I don’t think he suggests that pursuing knowledge is necessarily a bad thing – it may be difficult. Instead he cautions that it will mislead us in our way of living if we value pursuing endless knowledge above everything else in our life.
On one hand, what he says relates to the anxiety we as academics have about feeling unprepared to do anything, such as writing and teaching. One could find themselves stuck in the endless circle of needing to learn something new and fail to recognize what they have already known or what they could contribute, like I did.
On the other hand, it points to the reality that no matter how much we advance certain theories or develop related practices, there are always elements we will miss or be inadequate to. In this case, one might overlook their own ego and fail to recognize their lack of certain knowledge because of the limited experiences they have. The natural way of pursuing knowledge and nurturing our life is to acknowledge that we have limits and recognize the limited goals which we can achieve.
Reflecting upon these words, I have started to ask myself about working in academia and the purpose of reading and writing: am I writing for self-validation through publications, or am I writing to call attention to the bigger issues that I care about?
The stakes are higher when I am concerned more about how many times my name appears in how many top-ranked journals. But focusing on social and educational issues that I care deeply, I feel much more comfortable sharing what I have known with readers and reviewers at my own pace.
Take the process of revising a manuscript based on reviewers’ comments for example. I think this process truly represents the anxiety and insecurity that I often have in academia. I am still easily agonized by the comments from reviewers that don’t seem to understand my work. I feel hurt by what-appears-to-be belittlement between the lines.
Taking time to think instead of rushing to read more helps me identify where the limits of my work might be and where the limits of others’ perspectives are. I started to realize that I am also contributing by sharing with others certain knowledge they lack.
Furthermore, taking some steps to slow down also allows me to listen to my mind and body. I have also reached a crucial point where both my mind and body are calling for help. I know I have to do something. Slowing down–either going out for a walk, or enjoying a good meal with family and friends–helps me recharge and refocus. For me, balancing life and work is also about knowing where the limits of my mind and body are.
I know there will still be moments that I let the anxiety and insecurity take over my life. Nevertheless, it will be more important to remind myself to take my personal life and my work back and maintain it with humaneness and kindness to the work I do and the world around me.
Featured image by Comfreak