Telling someone, “You knew what you were getting into,” is a lot like saying you know how to parent because you read “What To Expect When You’re Expecting”. Ah, I remember being such a great parent…until I became a parent.
When I had kids of my own, all my observations and acquired knowledge fell short because I came to understand how difficult raising kids is. How emotionally compromising they are. I just never understood until I was responsible for two humans. Like anything in life, a collection of facts does not create understanding.
Knowledge and understanding are two distinctly different concepts. The knowledge was there before we had kids. We read books, talked to friends, babysat their kids, and aunt and uncled like champs, but actually having our own children revealed the gap between knowledge and understanding and proved the difficulty of parenting.
Parenting is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
Kids are harder than combat.
A close second is marriage. Marriage, as it turns out, is also challenging under any circumstance. Marriage while serving in the Army during the GWOT was even more challenging than expected. And when things came crashing down around us, I recall pulling out that barb and leveling it at Kelly with bitterness and wrath, “You knew what you were getting into!”
No, she didn’t. And neither did I. Nobody did until we experienced the reality because experience molds our knowledge into understanding. I’ve seen this across a number of settings.
Sales Reps leave training educated on the product and the process. However, applying the knowledge in the territory closes the distance between knowing how to be successful and actually being successful.
Mothers read baby books until they’re blue in the face, but until they’re tracking their baby bumps, managing morning sickness, and trying to get ahead of indigestion, they don’t truly understand pregnancy. I certainly don’t, and I never will!
And War Fighters read books, watch movies, and train for combat, but all of that can only prepare you so much for the moment when you’re participating in a two-way live fire. When the rounds are cracking overhead, you understand most of the movies were bullshit, the books were embellished, and the training was as good as you can replicate. Nothing compares to the real thing.
Experience converts knowledge into understanding, and mastery over time converts understanding into wisdom. When encountering the limits of our knowledge and the challenges of gaining understanding, empathy is the best approach; sympathy is even better.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot since last week when I read a comment on a podcast spot I did earlier this year. I shouldn’t have read the comments. I know. But I did. In the podcast, I shared the devastation that my experience as a young husband, father, and Ranger leader in the war created for my family (all of this between the ages of 22 through 27). I also wrote about this in our book. The commenter wrote, “You knew what you were getting into. Do something else.” What a jerk!
The comment irritated me. Oh, I wish it hadn’t, but it did. I’ll admit it. It got under my skin. It made me feel weak. It made me feel like an imposter. It made me question why I speak out about the aftermath of traumatic events, such as combat or missing a child’s birth. And I stewed about it for a bit, nearly missing some other, more important comments out there. I focused on the negative instead of the positives.
Like a long and thoughtful email sent to Blayne by a senior executive. It read, “Your story and Brandon's both had me choked up…I love your book for its openness and honesty.” The email was a heartfelt and detailed message of the points that resonated with him and how they are helping him view the prospect of being a Dad while also operating at the top of his field.
Or the direct message I received from a flag officer in command of an Army Division that read, “Wrapping up your book. I have found the clarity and simplicity of the message to be potent. Keep up the fire. Exceptionally well done with this project.” This from a man I have followed and would willingly follow again.
“Information is not knowledge. The only source of knowledge is experience. ”
Two leaders, whom Blayne and I respect and who genuinely understand what we’ve experienced and what we aim to achieve in sharing our stories, get it. They sympathized with our experiences because they’ve shared those experiences. They could feel with what we felt (sym - “with” + pathos “feel”) in those moments that forged us. They’ve been there. They understand. Sympathy comes from understanding, but you don’t have to understand to empathize. You just have to be willing to try to understand where someone is coming from. A point someone on Goodreads helped me see through this process of strangers reviewing some pretty raw and personal aspects of my life.
The commenter wrote, “I loved the ending chapters showing the hardships of reintroduction to civilian life and the uncompromising drive. It’s a book that shows so much into people, adversity, real scenarios, ways to really live life, with truth, and a way to size up the hardest of moments professionally or personally.” This from someone who never served in the military, but has many military family members (as her review went on to state).
Our vulnerability and willingness to share are helping her better understand their experiences. Wow. That’s it right there. She truly empathized with us by feeling into our experience (em - “into” + pathos “feel”). That means a lot to me. I suspect it will mean a lot to her family members, too.
Speaking of which, while it’s nice to have these reviews and comments online, it’s nicer to seek and receive feedback in the real world from our family and friends. Real-life feedback in the real embodied world from real people who really know us is what matters most. Like my friend, Shannon, who I’ve known for almost twenty years, who said (to my face), “Well done, brother. I find this book super useful.” Or my Ranger Buddy, Justin, who said (also to my face) some version of, “You nailed it. You shared some tough combat situations–without exaggerating–and made it helpful for others.”
Here is the reality: Real with real feedback matters; so does real experience. It’s easy to let our knowledge fool us into believing it’s enough when, in fact, understanding and wisdom are what truly matter in life and leadership. A collection of facts does not lead to understanding; experience does. And even if we don’t experience to understand, our empathy is enough to help us try to understand. That’s how I aim to be every day. That’s how I hope to love others in a world where we can so casually hate from behind the comfort of our keyboards (1 Cor 8:1), thinking a collection of information creates understanding or mastery.
