What I Know: I have so much to learn

When I set out on this project, I thought a lot about “Why?” And also, “Why now?”

Obviously, there is the whole dead, younger brother thing. It for sure makes the cliches like, “Tomorrow isn’t a guarantee!” and “Do it now!” ring a little more loudly.

But, something that also comes up for so many people who have lost someone is that they wish for more evidence of their person. My sister was quick to want to take more pictures. We were always big on photos, but now we really make an effort to stop and get out a phone for a quick snap. We even just did professional family ones, a regret of us all that we had not done one since I was in college (weddings excluded).

We were all sad to find that Dan’s computer did not, in fact, have much on it. We were hopeful for drafts of musings and recordings of him playing guitar, but after months of working to gain access to his Apple account we were underwhelmed by his simple, clean desktop. (A sure sign of his engineering mind.) 

We want more of the things he thought or sang or said.

Another thing that comes up when you lose someone, is that all of us have reflected on how we would like the days after our death to go. Adam and I have created documents with tangible To-Do’s (credit cards to pay and cancel, subscription passwords, etc.) and our desires for music and readings at our own funerals. I even have a dress code and menu ideas for a reception after mine. 

I know that sounds a lil’ crazy. Just trust me. I have the makings of a really great party. (And, honestly, after drafting it all up, I really wish I could attend!) I hope I made it so that my funeral is not so much about the fact that I died; but, that I lived. And, more importantly, I want it to not be so much how I was loved; but, how much I loved— small moments, this life, great food, and everyone in attendance so very much. That’s my goal.

So, in that vein and just like Tim McGraw says: “Live like you’re dying!” Here we are. Doing it. A project about what I love, but also what I know based on ~35.98 years of living.

I wrote a draft of a memoir in 2019 and when I shared that news I was met with a handful of people questioning how I could write a memoir in my early thirties. They believed I couldn’t possibly have lived enough, experienced enough, or known enough that was memoir worthy. 

That stung, but a pandemic, a collective racial reckoning, wrestling with my own privilege, thoughts on femininity versus (and maybe not so much versus…) feminism, my brother’s death and the aftershocks felt throughout my family, and a whole lot of growing up and perspective later, their cynicism wasn’t totally wrong.

I had a lot to learn.

And, I still do.

I know it sounds a lot like a bait and switch here: “Hi! Welcome to my new series of essays all about what I know. Oh. What’s the first one? It’s all about how I know nothing.”

Joking aside and a note to those cynics: I didn’t *need* the lessons from 2019 until now to have that memoir draft be worthy. I knew plenty of really great, important, memoir worthy things then. And, I still do.

But, I do know they will make that second draft better and starting this project with the knowledge that I always will have a lot to learn is right.

As we embark on twenty-ish weeks of “What I know…,” it’s important to note that though some of these things could be great advice, it’s not meant to be. 

I’ve spent a bit of time in the advice, “girl-boss,” hustle and grind, “expert” space. I have also spent a bit of time untangling myself from it all.

With that in mind, remember these are my lessons. They are not prescriptions. These are stories that are from my life that taught me something and are to be interpreted by you as if it’s folklore. The lessons come from books, movies, song lyrics, teachers, my parents (a lot are from my parents…), or a passing conversation. They are helpful little mantras or postures I try to take with me every day. You, as the reader, have the task to take what means something to you and filter it through your own life and lens. (As you should do even with something marketed to you as “advice,” too.)

In the world of “advice” there was (and still is) a lot of talk about Fixed Mindset vs. Growth Mindset. It’s an idea that some people have an innate mindset that tells them either, “My intelligence is fixed. I know all that I am going to know and am good at all that I am going to be good at right now, as it is.” Or, by contrast a growth mindset tells you that your intelligence and abilities can be developed over time.

If you know me, it’s no secret that I identify with the Growth Mindset. It’s such a natural posture to me that, even still, when I learn there are in fact people with “fixed” mindsets I feel like I turn into a blinking cartoon, unable to understand.

Thanks to some of the untangling I have done from “Girl Boss America,” I am now much more of a “you do you” kinda gal (more on that another week…), but this is one where I stick my feet in the sand a bit.

I think it is so good to always be open to learning.

When my mom suggested going to the library to sad-little-newlywed-in-the-country me, I kind of stiffened at the idea. We had gone to the public library a lot as kids and I enjoyed it as a “special” class in grade school, but I was never a “reader” like some kids are. Or, at least I thought I wasn’t. I often wanted to read the things I liked over and over— frustrating teachers and my parents. I did well enough in AP English classes, but didn’t make reading and books a big part of my life outside of assignments and the occasional trip to an airport kiosk for a vacation read. 

More exciting to me than a degree and my own bedroom after years of living in the sorority when I drove away from Purdue after graduation, was the idea that I would never have to study (see also: cram) for a test again. I wasn’t great at traditional learning: the retaining to regurgitate. And, I was so glad to put it behind me.

But, twenty years since the start of college and a little over ten years after my mom’s suggestion: I am a reader and I am still so very much a learner.

Reading and the library has made my mind open to learning and thinking about many ways of life and living. But, I have also come to see, it’s not just in books that you can be taught. 

Grappling with the icky feeling of sharing “What I know” and wary to be considered a “know it all” after a childhood of being called, “bossy,” I went to a wise friend of mine, Sara. (Sara will show up in a later essay, too!)

She encouraged me to take more of a posture of knowing. She reminded me that I do. She told me it’s good and right for me to be in a position of offering my experiences and saying things like, “I have done this” or “I have experienced that” and “here is what I know” because I have done and experienced a lot. A lot that my peers and even those a few steps ahead of me and those behind me in age have not, but they will.

She also reminded me that I am a writer and often we can’t see our own experiences, thoughts, or even opinions until we see them in someone else’s writing. 

She is right, of course. Being a writer is being willing to go first. To show readers they are not alone. To help give others words and offer up stories so that that the reader can see the ones they have in themselves.

I know this.

In fact, I know a lot.

But, I don’t know it all.

And, I never want to stop trying to learn as much as I can.

I want to keep reading and keep thinking. I want to take in so many more stories from others and experiences of my own and see what I can glean from them all.

I only know what I know because I have been open to learning. Keeping this posture of eagerness to notice and to observe and to learn is how I want to always live my life. I will always be learning.

Where this has shown up:

Shauna Niequest’s most recent book is “I Guess I have Not Learned That Yet” and the thesis stemmed from their family’s move to New York City from the Chicago suburbs. Her middle school aged boys, frustrated by the city’s transportation system and everyone else’s seemingly inherent knowledge of the inner workings of the city, felt defeated and “dumb.” She knew better than that— despite the city being completely new to her as well. She wrote “I guess I have not learned that yet” on a piece of paper and pinned it on the wall of their new apartment as a reminder that they are not dumb, but just new. They have a lot to learn still and that is an okay place to be. And, “yet.” Powerful “yet.” The reminder that they will. Love that “yet.”

A line I love early in Barbara Kingsolver’s book, “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle” is, “We cannot be expected to know what we have not been taught.” I read this at a time that I was just learning about how food is grown and produced and was living in a rural area where it was expected to know the difference between corn and soybeans, that a stalk of corn actually only had one (maybe two) ears of corn on it, and that carrots grow in the ground. These were all things I had not learned until I was in my early twenties and only because I lived there. Because of location and interest, I was able to see and learn from people who worked in agriculture; but, this was not taught to me prior. So, how would I have known? Just because someone doesn’t know something, doesn’t mean they are unintelligent. This has been so helpful to serve as a bit of grace to me, but also to others. And, I can see this line serving us well as my kids move through the “school years.”

This post contains affiliate links.