Knowing I Don't

There's this saying. It's a bit of a brain bender, but I find it incredibly accurate:

The more you know, the more you know you don't know.

As I write this to you, I find myself 2/3 the way through an advanced degree program. I have more knowledge than ever before, and I've never felt more dumb.

Logically, this makes no sense. My brain is so full, yet it feels utterly empty. So empty in fact, that I struggle to find the words to describe it to you.

See, it is as if my mind is a bucket that has been placed under an eternally running faucet. At first, it started to fill with beautifully clear liquid knowledge. Then, as it came faster, the solution inside stirred up. The pressure of incoming information muddied the water with an influx of air bubbles. What was once contained safely in my mind began to spill over the edges; making room for the fresh supply.

The inherent dilemma is that I can't hold it all in. As the deluge continues to build, the bucket will start to rust and eventually it will wear down because of the weight it contains. Knowledge will leak out at an increasing rate. It's a giant mess, and I find myself frantically trying to mop it all up. Only, I can't because patching holes is nearly impossible while it pours in, and there seems to be no stopping it.