This morning – I mean the quiet dark morning before anyone else wakes up, the kind of morning that feels like night, my favourite. I like this very early morning, because it feels like the only part of day that truly belongs to me, the one I don’t have to share. This is the time, when I am very quiet, when I function with minimal light and just as little movement. This is the time, when I am very alive. I believe, there are parts of me that are only alive during this time, the hidden, mysterious, exciting parts. This is the time when I write.

This morning I, while writing an essay for my university course, I somehow arrived to comparing the French verbs connaitre and savoir. Both verbs translate as “to know” into English, but connaitre means relational knowledge (to know someone) or practical knowledge (to know one’s trade), whereas savoir means theoretical knowledge, knowledge about something. Similar dichotomy exists in Mohawk (and, I suppose, other Indigenous languages?) and in German, but not in English or Ukrainian. As I learned today, it also exists in Greek. Definitions in French dictionaries and encyclopedia place savoir on a higher level than connaitre. Savoir is a deep, reflective, detached sort of knowledge. It’s a sort of knowledge one arrives at after years of diligent study. Savoir has a reverent ring to it, no matter its subject. Connaitre is more casual. It is knowledge of people, knowledge that comes from experience, also familiarity with the subject.

As I was muling these words in my head, thinking how the birthplace of the Enlightment, the nation of Rene Descartes and “je pense donc je suis,” of Napoleon and the dreams of universal conquest, the harbour of colonialism, chose to elevate the disembodied knowledge over the relational one, I thought, is it a coincidence that the verb savoir is only one letter different from the verb avoir (to have) whereas the verb connaitre sounds like the verb être (to be) and also naître (to be born). At this very early time of morning, this didn’t feel like a coincidence at all. Rather, it felt like revelation. The universe showing its pattern.

I know (I have checked) that linguistically speaking my proposition is nonsense. Both savoir et connaitre stem from latin roots. Yet, I still think that I am right. I think that maybe understanding… feeling the difference between the knowledge as possession and knowledge as a way of being is a key to transcending the paradigm that holds us captive.