Know What?

“Letting there be room for not knowing is the most important thing of all.  

― Pema Chödrön

 

"I vow to live a life of Not-knowing, 

giving up fixed ideas about myself and the universe."

-- The First Tenet of the Zen Peacemakers

 

 

The Summer of '62

 

" I know not, your majesty." -- Bodhidharma

Over the years, the assumption that I absolutely understand what is going on, and know exactly what to do about it, has tripped me up -- a lot.  

 

Even worse, the assumption that I know exactly what is going on and what someone else should to do about it, has wrecked havoc.

 

Assumptions, especially the one's buried in our subconscious belief structures, can cause a lot of unnecessary suffering.

 

My first boss, Charlie Winchester, foreman of the maintenance department at a small factory in a small town north of Chicago, had, perhaps, a less delicate way of making the point.  The memory brings a smile and warm glow to my heart.

In the summer of 1962, I was able to get a relatively good paying union job at the factory where my dad worked.  At that point in my life, I was drawn to become a public school teacher.  So, it was time.  

 

I couldn't rely on family wealth.  I had to start saving money for the college education that would, perhaps, propel me up a notch in social status, if not in income.  

 
Charlie was a kind and able mentor.  His spirit pervaded the maintenance crew.  During the seven summers I worked there, I was well supported by a small team of guys willing to show "the kid" the ropes.  They taught me a lot about how things work -- on many levels.

One particular lesson emerged when Charlie came around the corner to find me standing in front of a piece of production machinery.  I'd been trusted to replace the belt that connected it's electric motor to the drill assembly.  I assumed it would be a simple repair. 

 

It wasn't.

Belching smoke, the entire machine was lurching erratically and making threatening noises.  As soon as I saw him, I began to explain what I had done and why.  Interrupting me mid-sentence, he walked past me to shut the machine down. (Duh!) 

 

Then, with the ever-present cigar stub clenched in his smile,  Charlie took a pencil and a small spiral bound notepad from the plastic pencil holder that always rode in his front shirt pocket.  He opened the pad to a blank page, and then, in large, capital letters, he wrote the word "ASSUME."

"You know what happens when you assume?" he asked.
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