By stupid questions I mean ones that have known answers that I might be expected to already know. Someone throws out an acronym and I have a blank stare and ask: what does that mean? Ten seconds on google would return the basic answer. To some, this is a stupid question—you might even say an “ignorant question.”
My change of heart came from developing a right view of “ignorance,” which I see as a “known lack of understanding.” For example, “I am ignorant of online payment protocols” means I have not spent time coming to understand them.
I am on a lifelong quest as a learner—it excites and challenges me. This passion comes from inspiration from Charles Eams, about whom this was written, “Sell your expertise and you have a limited repertoire. Sell your ignorance and you have an unlimited repertoire. He was selling his ignorance and his desire to learn about a subject. The journey of not knowing to knowing was his work.”
Traveling on a journey of not knowing used to be one of my greatest fears—I had an idol of wanting to appear to be “in the know.” Now I realize that was a wrong view of knowledge—and a wrong view of myself. Along this process I committed something even worse: pretending to know, an offense widely committed that carries huge costs: you undermine the intellectual integrity of the conversation by not knowing what is being said, you deceive others about yourself, and, worst of all, you fail to learn. I now have the courage to “sell my ignorance” and travel with excitement and courage along a journey of not knowing. If you have not already, I hope you, too, may find that courag