Your knowledge of what is going on can only be superficial and

Hear the unsettling wisdom of William S. Burroughs, who declared: “Your knowledge of what is going on can only be superficial and relative.” In this statement lies the humbling reminder that human perception is narrow, our vision clouded, our grasp partial. What we see is but a fragment; what we know is but a shadow of the greater truth. To live as though we comprehend all is arrogance; to live knowing our limits is the beginning of wisdom.

For every age has believed itself enlightened, yet later generations revealed its blindness. Men once thought the earth the center of all things, yet the heavens declared otherwise. Physicians once swore that illness was born of bad air, yet unseen microbes told a different story. Thus Burroughs reminds us that our knowledge is ever superficial and relative, tied to our time, our tools, our narrow vantage. The wise do not cling too tightly to the certainty of the present, but remain open to what deeper truths the future may unveil.

The ancients too wrestled with this mystery. Heraclitus declared, “You cannot step into the same river twice,” for the world is in constant flux, and so is our understanding of it. What seems solid today may shift tomorrow; what seems certain in one moment may be revealed as illusion in the next. Burroughs’s words echo this ancient truth: that knowledge is fleeting, and what we call truth is but an approximation, a reflection distorted by the glass of perception.

Consider also the tale of Galileo Galilei. When he turned his telescope to the heavens, he saw moons circling Jupiter and mountains upon the face of the Moon. His contemporaries, clinging to old certainty, rejected him, calling his discoveries heresy. Yet Galileo knew: our vision had been superficial, our knowledge relative to what we could see with the naked eye. By daring to look deeper, he shattered illusions—but even his knowledge was only a step, not the summit, for later astronomers would go further still.

The meaning of Burroughs’s words is not to despair of knowledge, but to approach it with humility. To know that our understanding is limited is itself a form of deeper wisdom. Those who believe they know all are blind; those who know they see only in part are open to growth. In recognizing the relativity of knowledge, we are freed from arrogance and made ready to learn anew.

The lesson for us, O seekers, is this: do not cling to your present understanding as final. Seek truth passionately, but hold it humbly. Question your own assumptions, and listen when others bring new light. Remember that each perspective is partial, each experience relative, and together they weave a richer tapestry than any single thread could reveal.

Practical actions must follow. Cultivate curiosity rather than certainty. Read widely, listen deeply, observe humbly. Accept that even your strongest beliefs may one day be overturned, and do not fear this—it is the path of growth. Be patient with others, for their knowledge too is limited, and together you may see more than either alone. And above all, remember that certainty without humility becomes tyranny of the mind.

Thus let Burroughs’s words endure: our knowledge is superficial and relative, yet in this very limitation lies the key to wisdom. To admit the shallowness of what we see is to be open to the infinite depth of what remains unseen. Walk, therefore, not in arrogance, but in wonder, knowing that truth is always greater than the measure of our grasp.