I Understand Less
There comes a point in life when the complexities seem to magnify, and suddenly, we find ourselves understanding less. It’s a strange realization because it’s supposed to be the other way around, isn’t it? We age, we learn, and we’re supposed to get wiser, but here I am, feeling like the more I know, the less I understand. Maybe it’s just me, or maybe it’s everyone, but I’m at a point where I’ve made peace with this bewilderment.
When I was younger, the world appeared to be so simple. Good was good, bad was bad, and everything seemed like it had a logical explanation. Fast forward to today, and nothing feels so black and white anymore. The more I delve into things, the blurrier they become. Life itself has turned into a confusing matrix where every decision feels like it’s layered with uncertainty, every relationship is more complicated than it once was, and every day brings new questions with fewer answers.
I used to think that with experience would come clarity. But the truth is, as I gather more knowledge and experience, it only expands the awareness of how little I truly comprehend. I understand less now than I did when I thought I knew everything. Maybe that’s the irony of life — the older you get, the more you realize you don’t know. The more you try to simplify, the more you realize the world wasn’t meant to be understood in all its intricacies. It was meant to be experienced.
People talk about mastering things as they grow older. Mastering the art of conversation, relationships, business, or even oneself. But let me tell you this: I have mastered nothing, and I understand less of everything. And it’s not for lack of trying. I’ve spent years attempting to understand people — their motives, their feelings, their actions. But the more I try to wrap my head around it, the more I realize I can’t predict or control anything. People are messy, and that mess is something I’ll never fully decode. Relationships, friendships, even family dynamics — all seem to have hidden layers I’ve yet to grasp.
Work is no different. I used to believe that working hard was the key to success. But now, even in my professional life, I see how little I really get. The more I engage with it, the more it reveals its layers of complexity — politics, hierarchies, motives. Success itself, a concept I once thought was so clear, is now a blurred vision of personal fulfillment, external validation, and hidden agendas.
The beauty of this strange realization, though, is that it takes the pressure off. The more I admit I understand less, the freer I feel. There’s something comforting about not having to have all the answers. I’ve started to embrace the idea that not everything needs to be understood. Sometimes, it’s okay to let go and accept the ambiguity of life, rather than wrestle with it. Not knowing doesn’t make me weak or inadequate; it simply means I’m human. And perhaps, at the core of it, understanding less might actually lead to understanding more about what matters.
Maybe understanding less is a gateway to peace. When you stop trying to solve the puzzle, you begin to appreciate the pieces for what they are. There’s no rush to figure everything out because the truth is, you never will. The unknown becomes less of a monster and more of a companion. You start to welcome the confusion instead of fearing it. Life doesn’t have to make sense all the time. It’s okay to live in the questions rather than always seek the answers.
So here I am, understanding less and less, and yet feeling more liberated than ever. I don’t need to dissect every decision or calculate every relationship. I don’t need to untangle every emotion or find answers to every dilemma. I don’t need to pretend that I have life figured out. I don’t. And the more I admit it, the lighter I feel. There’s beauty in the chaos, wisdom in the uncertainty, and freedom in understanding less. In a world that often pushes us to know more, achieve more, and understand more, I’ve found solace in the opposite. I understand less — and that’s perfectly fine with me.
