Knowledge as Awakening: Reframing Learning in Leadership and Growth

Knowledge as Awakening: Reframing Learning in Leadership and Growth

In our age of information, we are conditioned to see knowledge as a commodity. It is something to be acquired, stored, and showcased. Degrees, certificates, and credentials are badges of this acquisition. Libraries are filled with it. Search engines offer it at a keystroke. Knowledge, we are told, is power.

But what if this is a partial truth?

What if knowledge is not something we gain, but something we awaken to?

What if learning is not about accumulation, but being in harmony?

In the modern context of leadership, coaching, and human development, these questions are not simply philosophical—they are revolutionary. They challenge the foundation of how we teach, how we lead, and how we grow. They shift the focus from control to connection. From conquest to communion.

Let us explore this shift more deeply. Because embedded within it is the potential to change how we learn and how we lead.

We often approach learning as a ladder. Step by step, rung by rung, we climb toward mastery. This metaphor dominates education systems, corporate training modules, and leadership development frameworks. Growth is viewed as progression. Each step is based on what came before. Knowledge is constructed linearly.

This model has utility. It creates structure. It supports measurement. It allows for replication and scalability—critical features in institutional settings.

But it has limitations.

It assumes that knowledge lives outside of us. That it must be pursued. That only through effort, strategy, and systems can we hope to grasp it.

In such a model, we risk reducing knowledge to information. We confuse memorization with insight. We celebrate speed over depth.

But there is another way of understanding knowledge—one that does not originate in Western pedagogical systems, but rather in ancient contemplative traditions. It is the view that knowledge is not acquired. It is revealed.

This is not a minor distinction.

In the Tamil Siddha tradition, Thirumoolar—a mystic and yogi of profound insight—writes in the Thirumanthiram:

“Jnana has no death, nor Birth

Jnana has no foundation but Jnana

It is Jnana that knows Jnana

Thus they conclude, in the ultimate, Vedas all.”

— Thirumanthiram, Verse 2358

Here, knowledge is not seen as a product. It is a field. It is omnipresent, timeless, and self-existent. It is not waiting to be built—it is waiting to be noticed.

This reframing has powerful implications. It removes the ego from learning. It disrupts the idea that some possess knowledge while others lack it. It invites us to approach growth not as conquerors but as collaborators.

And it calls on us to listen.

When knowledge is seen as a field, our relationship with it changes. We are no longer the hunters. We are the attuned. Awareness becomes the key.

To become aware is not merely to observe but to enter into relationship with what is. It is an act of resonance. In deep awareness, insight arises—not because we forced it, but because we made space for it.

Carl Jung alluded to this when he said:

“Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart.Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.”

— Carl Jung

Jung understood that the deepest truths are not found by looking outward for answers. They are seen by awakening inward.

This is not a denial of learning. Books, teachers, and experience all matter. But they serve not as givers of knowledge, but as mirrors for it. They reflect what we are ready to perceive.

This is why the same book read twice yields new insights. Not because the book changed. But because we did.

The Vedic tradition calls this jnana—a knowledge that is not intellectual but experiential. The Upanishads speak of Atma-vidya, the knowledge of the Self, as the highest form of understanding.

This is recursive wisdom. Knowledge knows itself. When we align our awareness, it reveals what was always there.

Modern neuroscience, too, nods toward this ancient truth. Studies in consciousness suggest that insight—the “aha” moment—often arises not from focused effort, but from stillness. From stepping back. From allowing the brain’s default mode network to activate.

The insight doesn’t come to us. It comes through us.

In leadership, coaching, and mentoring, this shift is vital.

When we believe knowledge is external, we position ourselves as the source. We become experts, authorities, problem-solvers. While this can be valuable, it often creates hierarchy. It limits collaboration. It shuts down curiosity.

But when we understand that knowledge is emergent, our role changes. We become facilitators of insight. We hold space, not just give answers. We listen more than we speak.

This is the essence of transformational leadership. It is the move from control to presence.

Otto Scharmer, in his work Theory U, writes:

“The quality of results produced by any system depends on the quality of awareness from which people in the system operate.”

— Otto Scharmer

This insight is profound. The outcomes we create do not depend solely on strategy or intelligence. They depend on awareness. On presence. On our capacity to sense what is emerging and respond from alignment.

This is what great coaches and mentors do. They don’t impose truth. They create the conditions for truth to arise. They trust that the knowledge is already present—waiting to be revealed.

They practice deep listening.

They ask better questions, not just offer quick solutions.

They model humility over certainty.

And they teach us to trust the inner unfolding.

In this way, knowledge becomes less about facts and more about frequency. It is not a possession. It is a presence.

This view does not diminish expertise. It elevates it. But it reframes expertise not as accumulation, but as attunement. The best leaders are not the most informed, but the most in tune—with themselves, with others, and with the moment.

This changes everything.

We stop competing for ideas. We start collaborating in discovery.

We stop clinging to answers. We start deepening our questions.

We stop managing knowledge. We start serving it.

Because ultimately, knowledge is not a trophy to win. It is a voice to hear.

And often, it whispers rather than shouts.

As we quiet ourselves—beyond distraction, beyond ego—we begin to hear what was always speaking.

As we grow in awareness, we awaken to the knowledge that was never lost.

It was only waiting.

Reflections and Action

For Introspection:

1. What beliefs do I hold about knowledge and expertise? Reflect on whether you see knowledge as something external to be acquired or internal to be awakened. How does this belief shape your leadership or coaching style?

2. When have I experienced insight that felt more like remembering than learning? Consider times when a truth seemed to arise spontaneously. What were the conditions that allowed this to happen?

For Action:

1. Create a practice of intentional stillness before key decisions. Before making an important choice, pause. Reflect. Create space. Notice what emerges without forcing it. This cultivates awareness as a source of clarity.

2. In your next conversation as a leader or mentor, ask more than you tell. Use open-ended questions. Trust that the other person carries insight. Let your role be to reveal, not resolve. Watch how this transforms the interaction.

“Insight doesn’t arrive by force. It appears when we become still enough to notice what has always been present.”

The journey of growth is not a race toward knowing more. It is a return to deeper knowing. One that requires humility, stillness, and trust.

Let us lead not from the pedestal of knowledge, but from the presence of awareness.

Let us remember what we have always known.