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I don't know. And that's a good thing.

  • Writer: Nicola Arnese
    Nicola Arnese
  • 7 days ago
  • 3 min read


There’s something I’ve learned over time, and maybe it comes with age: in life, not knowing can sometimes be better than knowing. I’m not talking about ignorance. I’m talking about our very human habit of trying to figure everything out too quickly.

“That guy’s got it in for me.”

“She’s so rude.”

“He’s doing it on purpose.”


It’s like our mind wants to slap a label on things right away, like a clerk in a rush to clear a full desk.


Just the other day, I walked into a shop to ask for some information. The clerk, without even looking up, gave me a sharp, annoyed reply.


And boom, the script in my head started playing. “Here we go. Another jerk.”


But this time I stopped myself. Not because I’m some enlightened soul, but because lately I’ve been trying out a little experiment. I call it the game of not knowing.


I took a breath and thought, “What if he’s dealing with something I can’t see?”

That was a small miracle. I didn’t change him, but I changed how I felt.


It turns out that when we’re under stress, our brain behaves like that one uncle who always needs to be right. It makes everything black or white, good or bad, friend or enemy. And it does this automatically. Not because we’re bad people, but because our brain wants to keep us safe.


Daniel Siegel, a neuroscientist who really knows his stuff, explains it well. When we’re triggered, the rational part of our brain slows down, and the survival part takes over. That part doesn’t want to reflect. It wants to react. Fast.


But there’s a remedy for this rush to judgment. It’s called curiosity.

It’s free, but not always easy to practice.


When someone does something that hurts us or gets on our nerves, instead of thinking, “I know exactly why they’re doing that,” we could try asking, “I wonder what’s really going on with them?”


It happens in families too.

My daughter, for example, sometimes comes home and slams the door.

Before, I’d immediately think, “How rude. What is this, a hotel?”


Now, I try to take a second.

I ask myself, “What if something went wrong at school? What if she’s upset with herself? Or maybe the door just slipped out of her hand?”


Sometimes, a slamming door is just a door that slammed.


Later on, I might ask her about it. Not with a heavy tone. Just a simple, “Hey, everything okay?”


I watch her face, her eyes. Sometimes I realize it’s better to say nothing. Other times, once she’s calmer, we talk.


We can give ourselves the gift of not knowing right away.

Of pausing.

Of looking a little closer.

Of being curious.

Of talking.


Because sometimes, we discover that the person in front of us wasn’t rude after all. Just human, caught in a tough moment.


And sometimes we too, when we speak sharply, aren’t being mean. We’re just tired. Or hurt. Or lost.


So maybe it’s worth hitting pause before deciding we’ve understood it all.


Because maybe we haven’t.


And in that not-knowing, there’s a quiet kind of peace.



 

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