A month or so ago, David Knowles, a writer I love to read, asked me to write something about knowing, after I had written this in a short Note about an earlier piece:
Somewhere between the fort-town of Facts andthe river of Knowing is a meadow where I gather leaves of wild faith.
I was making notes, mulling it over, as you do, when a friend died. Washed downstream into a gully of grief, several of us swam together and kept each other afloat. Now, on the banks of that peaty force, I sit to regather my thoughts and find them changed. I cannot write about epistemology1, not only because I have not read the requisite books, but also because I do not keep a kenning that could be culled and flayed thus.
So, I will describe some of the different ways I ever know anything, (if I ever do), as I have never tried to list them in words. Perhaps it will chime with how you know what you know.
Then, I will speak of a recent long moment spent outside time with my pack.
This piece was first published here on Substack on 25th March 2024, with full transcript, more images, links and footnotes.
