The dark power of "I know".

“I know” seems so innocent, worthy even, and yet can be so dangerous.

“I know what you’re like…”

“I know what’s best for you…”

“I know best.”

“I know The Truth.”

After all, knowledge is power, and power corrupts.

Counter-intuitively, “I know” delimits knowledge - it dismisses curiosity, denies new information. It’s shorthand for “you can stop talking now – I’ve already heard what you’re going to say and made up my mind about it.”

“I know what you mean” and “I know how you feel” may be intended to convey shared understanding and empathy, but how often do they mark the end of someone listening and the start of them talking about what they mean and how they feel? And how often does that lead to a failure to truly understand what’s meant and felt?

A blind conviction of our self-knowledge risks leaving us stale and stuck.

“I know my limits” starts as a means of protecting our energy and peace, but can keep us playing small as we tell ourselves we cannot do more or better.

“I know what helps me” starts as useful information that helps us look after ourselves, but can end up blinkering us to new and different options for doing that.

“I know what I’m like” starts as insightful self-awareness that helps us better manage our patterns of thinking and behaving, but can become a denial of our capacity to continue doing this.

“I know what I want” starts as a vital sense of purpose, helping us move forward in life, but can end up trapping us on paths that no longer feel right for us.

To believe we know something based on the information and evidence available to us at that time is not unreasonable, of course. What is unreasonable is to refuse to consider the possibility of new data or understanding that could lead to knowing differently, or better, or more.

Because knowledge is not a finite, static achievement. Knowledge is a process – an ongoing, unending, intriguing, delicious evolution of knowing. Surely the only thing we can ever know for certain is that we don’t know everything?

The worst of “I know” reflects the lines we draw in the sand and refuse to cross. Even as the sands shift beneath us and obliterate the lines, we cling to their memory and congratulate ourselves on our steadfastness, until those shifting sands bury us and we suffocate.

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Initial image by Image by Erdenebayar Bayansan on Pixabay