In class today we used the phrase "incarnational epistemology" to describe the way of knowing that comes about when a person moves beyond rote, formulaic, cut-and-paste methods to a deeper, intuitive, more personal and fluent way of knowing.
Along the way, I thought of the poem by Howard Nemerov's poem, "Because You Asked about the Line Between Prose and Poetry."
Sparrows were feeding in a freezing drizzle
That while you watched turned to pieces of snow
Riding a gradient invisible
From silver aslant to random, white, and slow.
There came a moment that you couldn’t tell.
And then they clearly flew instead of fell.
How does that happen for you? When does your knowledge of an area or subject move from "silver aslant to random, white, and slow?" In other words, when does your knowledge become deep, true, personal, fluent? How does that happen? Assuming that it has happened for you, in what areas, academic (math, science, languages, music, etc.) or otherwise (social, spiritual, interpersonal, romantic-relational, etc.) has it happened? Were you aware of the point when it happened, or only aware now that you look back on it?
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I'm not sure how to approach this. I don't think one really notices that it has happened until you take a step back. Take learning to read for example. It was a process that was laborious at first but i think reading or any skill becomes fluent when you do it so much that the thinking process moves into the subconscience.And once you don't have to think about the technical aspect of reading you can focus on the meaning and beauty of the words that you read.
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