For a long time, I’ve had a writing prompt sitting my desktop.
My writing process isn’t much to speak of. Ideas I have usually start when whatever improbable spark in my dumb brain-meat conjures forth things like “euthanasia coaster death penalty ethics”[1] or “Are foot fetishes rational because feet are everywhere?”
Frequently my writing prompts come from people smarter than me: Anthony De Mello, Seneca, Aesop Rock. I read things they say, and I try to reflect on them. I wrestle with the ideas as best I can. One of the lovely things about writing is that it offers an excellent avenue to talk to oneself; Writing helps to clarify and to bring forward understanding. English teachers assign essays for a reason.
When I am done writing, I post my work for the public to see – that’s basically all my website here is for. I do this because I don’t think most people will read Karl Rahner. I don’t think everyone will have the opportunity to sink hours into Frederic Gros’ examination of security principles. And because most people won’t experience these things, where the experiences or the ideas are worthwhile, I feel like I have an obligation to share, to discuss, and – with humility – to explain and to teach.
That basic idea was the prompt of one of my dumb brain sparks – the simple summary phrase: “You can’t let it die with you.”
To teach and to share is a moral imperative. Life is short, time is fleeting, and knowledge is hard-earned. Human beings are born knowing nothing. They must learn everything through experience or study. Knowledge doesn’t spring ex nihilo – it is gradually created. Sure, humans have some innate knowledge, but my point is more this – all the cool stuff is learned. Nobody knows a priori how to pray or to paint, or do karate, or write music. These learned skills are what I’m interested in here.
And when you figure out something difficult - what Plato was talking about in his dialogues, how to throw a left hook, how to cook something delicious for your family – you really should pass it on as best you can. Someone taught it to you, and you should share it with other people. Knowledge is its own evangelical mission.
This is how humanity gradually learns. Humanity is a super-organism, a web of people and shared, accumulated knowledge. You are the recipient of a great, intricate chain of knowledge, an ancestral birthright passed down through the eons, passed down to you for safekeeping. You must care for it and add your own links to it. You must share your thoughts, your wisdom, your experiences. You must never break the chain. You must teach what you know. You can’t let it die with you.
So that was the prompt on my desktop. For a long while, it sat blank. Then, someone died.
I won’t say much here; it isn’t the venue, and it wouldn’t be appropriate. What I will say is that she was a teacher, and she didn’t let what she knew die with her. She lived the lesson of her life, and she inspired a lot of people.
And now the prompt isn’t blank. That’s its own lesson. All of this is time-bound with uncertain limits. You need to do it now.
I would also like to add that your life is the best lesson. My friend taught me things about martial arts, but the bigger things were in how she lived her life. As such, this call to teaching is also a calling to live your best, highest life by being your authentic self and sharing yourself with vulnerability. I bet you’ve learned a lot of hard lessons in your life. Places where existence has cut you deep, where you’ve earned wisdom from putting your hand on the metaphorical stove. Addiction that ravages the soul, healing from trauma, how you’ve gotten through the worst day of your life. There is something there. And where you’ve learned the most, your obligation to teach is the greatest. I’ll leave you to ponder what this means for your life and your most authentic, vulnerable self.
So too, your responsibility to teach increases the more specialized your knowledge is. If you understand microbiology, like my sister does, you have a duty to explain about it to your dummy little brother when he asks questions about mitosis and meiosis. If you are an engineer, you need to share your engineering skills with the world. I have more than ten years of Krav Maga experience, and that means I have a responsibility to be a good training partner who passes on lessons about what I’ve learned about that martial art. The deeper your knowledge in the weirder or harder the subject, the more duty you have to pass on the knowledge. If you don’t, who will?
I hope you’ll take something from this. I hope you’ll take something you have and give it forward. Share something personal about you that can help someone through difficult times. Participate in the great chain of knowledge. I strongly suspect these practices contribute to a more meaningful life. People will remember you and your lessons.
Don’t let it die with you.
[1] Can you kill guilty people via deadly roller coaster and are methods of execution more acceptable the more whimsical they are?