"Each person holds their own fate in their hands, like a sculptor with the material that will become a figure. But with that kind of artistic activity, it's the same as with all others: we are born only with the capacity to perform it. The skill to shape that material into what we want must be learned and cultivated attentively."
~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
This article tackles an uncomfortable and difficult topic—something akin to talking about religion, politics, or football at the dinner table. If only it were as simple as telling—and proving to—a wild pseudoscientist that they are indeed one. As previously mentioned in other writings, these characters often arise as the unwanted consequence of trying to be "smarter" than everyone else.
However, our thirst for knowledge, like every rule, has its exceptions. Sometimes it leads us into even more uncomfortable territory, where many are afraid to point out mistakes for fear they lack the "authority" to do so.
"Even the bitterest food, eaten in freedom, is better than the sweetest delicacy gained in servitude."
That was the phrase I used to begin The Duende and His Garden, and now it returns to my mind, prompting me to ask: What if we are slaves to our own ignorance?
Ah, yes… the "educated" are exempt from that. They are the enlightened ones of the modern era!
They are precisely the ones I want to talk about. But let's add some context.
Through conversation, we can learn from other perspectives, gain new knowledge, and even grow as individuals. Moreover, when there is trust, we can share profound personal experiences.
Out of respect for privacy, I'll avoid giving too many details, but I won't refrain from recounting what happened. I was told that after an evening gathering among colleagues, a friend was chatting with her host, who apparently foresaw a bright future for her. But it didn't take long before he added:
"Follow in my footsteps. Be like me. I'm a wine sommelier, a sake sommelier, a coffee roaster, a tea and coffee specialist…"
Quite the impressive résumé, right? But the story doesn't end there. He went on:
"I can educate you in all these areas. That way, we'll make a great team."
At first glance, it sounds like an incredible opportunity. But even without knowing him, I can say with complete certainty: he's nothing more than vinegar, son of wine.
I've met enough examples of "gurus," "specialists," "mentors," and other fancy titles. Many are just words printed on a piece of paper (if they even have that). But of course, no one can deny their status—they have a certificate to prove it, like so many technicians, graduates, engineers, master's holders, PhDs, etc.
Titles are plentiful.
What's scarce is attitude and aptitude applied to knowledge.
If it were all about titles, you'd be talking to a mythical cat with a hat and five whiskers right now.
I'm not saying this to undermine or invalidate the effort behind those achievements. But I also can't ignore the rise of a dangerous trend: "I know more than you because I have this piece of paper that says so."
As Gu Shu rightly recalled in Un Chapeau, Cinq Moustaches:
"My tasks are in the city; his are in the field. I wake up early to go to my duties, and he does the same for his. He doesn't pretend to do my work, and I don't pretend to do his."
We've forgotten the humility needed to make knowledge truly transversal.
Vinegar comes about when wine ferments beyond what's desired. Instead of remaining a refined product meant for enjoyment, it turns into something acidic, pungent, and often seen as "ruined" if wine was the intended outcome. That's precisely what happens with those "enlightened" ones who forget that they were once just creatures of the shadows.
Now, they supposedly know—and master—years of traditions, interpretations, and changing contexts over time. And not just in one subject, but in three, five, or more. These beings are the living embodiment of efficiency!
But let's be honest… isn't the phrase "Jack of all trades, master of none" quite common? Let me put it more plainly: what's the use of having ten cups of tea if I only ever drink from one?
Well, one might say it's about having variety to choose from. Fair enough. But while one cup is in use, the others just gather dust. It's the same when we become "cardboard experts" in wine, sake, coffee, tea, etc. We may have knowledge—up to a point—but it's fragmented. And in that state, we're unable to truly grasp or live its interconnectedness.
So then what? Should we become slaves to knowledge? Absolutely not.
What we must do is specialize in one topic, understand it, and truly grasp it. Little by little, that knowledge will be like a flower bud, gradually opening to reveal its many petals: paths and applications that grow from the same root.
Take a simple example: tea.
Studying tea can eventually branch into wine or coffee. But that doesn't mean a tea enthusiast automatically knows everything about those other realms. They can, if they wish, begin exploring those topics in relation to tea. They may look similar, merely wearing different costumes. But it's like baking: the sequence and manner in which ingredients are integrated determine the outcome. And in that process, there's no one to blame but the baker.
I'm not against degrees—far from it. Nor am I opposed to lifelong learning.
This piece, in fact, aims to rescue the real reason behind the certificate: to know, understand, and apply knowledge…
And most importantly: to know how to share it.
Nowadays, many of our so-called enlightened gurus are so focused on the ink that marks their certificate that they've forgotten to cultivate the knowledge in their minds.
"He who never ceases to be a pupil, repays his teacher poorly."
~ Friedrich Nietzsche
Therefore, choose your teachers wisely, and learn how to learn, so that even as an expert in one subject, you remember that we are all just pupils in this life—a life far too short to ever learn and understand everything.
Satoricha ~