My brother liked the GI Joe cartoons, but I was only moderately interested. Usually, I’d only sit and watch if there was nothing else to do. But I’ll never forget the classic PSA line at the end of every episode:
“Now you know… and knowing is half the battle.”
That line still comes up all the time, in fact.
I actually found a page with a list of all the PSAs they did… I pretty much DIED at some of the “advice”:
Don’t take drugs without your parents there.
Don’t jump your bike over downed power lines.
Maybe you stink at baseball because you need glasses.
Blind kids can find lost kittens too.
Don’t be in a hurry to build your tree house.
They’re almost Zen.
I always liked the idea that knowing the solution to a problem was half of the solution itself. It seemed like such an encouraging and self-congratulatory way to look at life.
“Something sucks? Well, at least you know it sucks. You could be totally delusional and not have a clue!”
People often tell me that they admire my level of self-knowledge… my capacity to figure out what’s happening in my head and heart, and put it all into words.
I always say that I’m a writer — that’s my job. But inside, I’m either thinking, “Holy crap, glad it makes sense to YOU!” or “Yes, I sure do know myself. And knowing is half the battle.”
But half the battle?
Does not win the war.
I don’t look at myself as someone with a heaping ton of inner conflicts, but I know there are struggles raging on some fronts. I also know that I have troops stuck in places where there hasn’t been action in forever (no pun intended… but FAIR ENOUGH.)
I can write and write and write about all the things I’ve figured out and share all my self-realization anecdotes and all my personality quirks and pages of my past experiences, but those words don’t necessarily do anything but sit like oil on top of water — easily seen and wide-reaching, but surface-stuck.
Developing pride in my capacity for self-disclosure is dangerous. It makes me think that’s “enough for now”, and that I don’t have to take action. I’m really good at giving excuses for not taking action, too. I can talk in giant crop circles about what I “need first” and “how I am” and “what it will take to move forward” and even that starts to look like some sort of deep understanding of my own dilemma.
But it’s just talking, in the end. An important thing to talk through, mind you… but just words.
I need to act.
Now.
To actually walk forward and claim what’s mine. To DO something with anger or hope or compassion or frustration or any other up or down I feel. To be passionate enough to step into the void and make things happen… and let them happen TO me. To exist outside of a thinking state.
And not knowing the next step isn’t really much of an excuse, though truly, I’m not quite sure where to go from here.
Which brings me to my other point, and one that my roommate drove home to me this morning: no matter how much you think you know about yourself and how you are and why you do things… there are 100,000 things you don’t know about yourself.
Some of them will remain mysteries your entire life, in fact… except perhaps to the slightly exasperated people around you.
There’s no such thing as comprehensive self-knowledge, or self-knowledge that is “enough.” You have to keep learning, keep acting, keep your ears open and heart open, keep listening… all of it.
And then act. Because you’re still not even close.
I don’t know why I am finally figuring out all of this at 33, but I suppose that my brain is not unlike my hormones.
In need of a boost.
