Hey look! The hoopoe is back! See him perched up there on top of the wall just outside my window yesterday. I was born and lived most of my life in Scotland, so the hoopoe seems a very exotic bird to me. They aren’t that uncommon in this part of France. In fact, their outline is used as a symbol on the main autoroute from here, through the Charente Maritime to the coast. They are migratory birds, so they disappear from the garden as winter approaches and fly off to Africa. Yesterday was the day they returned. A pair of them. Now I’ve no way of knowing if these are the exact same birds which I saw every day last summer but chances are they are. Two of the things we do know about migratory species is that they tend to travel enormous distances every year, and that they begin and end their journeys in exactly the same locations. What we don’t know is how they do that.
It seemed quite appropriate that I read an article in Le Monde this morning about the tenth annual conference on migration hosted by the Institute of Navigation in London. The main message in that article was that although these are probably the top experts in animal migration what they came to share was what they didn’t know. Oh yes, of course, they’ve got their theories and they’ve even got the results of some experiments. But it seems those very results often throw up more questions than they provide answers. The bottom line is nobody knows how these migratory creatures do it. How do they navigate? Where are their maps? Their compasses? Their GPS units? What are they using to navigate by? The Sun, the stars, the Earth’s geomagnetic field, odours? We don’t know.
Do you find that exciting or exasperating?
I find it exciting?
I love to stumble across what I don’t know. It stimulates the dual senses of wonder and curiosity. And luckily for me, there turns out to be a lot I don’t know!
Many, many years ago I read a lead article in the British Medical Journal about Medical Education. I remember the main message. It was that the one statement which best served learning was “I don’t know”. When a medical student discovered they didn’t know something it served as the driver to find out. Of course, medical education was, sadly, not like that. Instead, when a dozen of us stood around a patient’s bed in the hospital, we all did all we could to avoid direct eye contact with the teaching consultant. Because if he (and it was almost always a “he” in my days) picked us out to ask a question we knew we’d better know the right answer or we’d be mocked and humiliated shamelessly. “Ritual humiliation always worked for me and I’m not about to change” a Professor once whispered to me during a training session in “Problem Based Learning”.
Now, I’m not advocating ignorance. It doesn’t strike me that it’s a good idea to find out what you don’t know then add to that an attitude of not caring! In fact, I’d say it was my understanding that I could never know all there was to know about anyone which made me a good doctor. It kept me humble, kept me curious, and kept me attentive. As well as supplying me with daily experiences of wonder and curiosity.
There’s an opposite, isn’t there? The one which seeks and claims certainty. We often hear people claim that they know things for sure. They might be politicians who haven’t the slightest doubts that they are the best people to make the decisions for us all. They might be journalists who splash across the front pages the news of the latest “miracle drug” which is going to save thousands of lives, or the latest food item which is either going to kill you or make you live ten years longer. They might be people who claim “the evidence shows that…..” and conclude that the evidence reveals certainty so there’s something else we don’t need to be curious about any more. You get the idea.
Again, I’m not advocating ignorance, and I’m not knocking rationalism or science. What I’m saying is that if you aren’t aware of some of the many things you don’t know, then you’re going to pass through life missing out on a whole load of wonder, amazement, curiosity and discovery.
At the end of this piece, the famous phrase of Montaigne pops back into my head. In his essays, time and time again, after describing or explaining something, he’d say “Mais que sais-je?” – “But what do I know?” I love that about Montaigne.
So here’s my recipe for today – become aware of something you don’t know, enjoy the amazement, then get curious, see what you can find out…….
- become aware of something you don’t know
- enjoy the amazement
- then get curious
- see what you can find out…….