Navigating life as it is framed by personal ontological beliefs, social frames, and ecologies, and even global dispositions of collective humanity (neoliberalist values, for example) reminds me of a life in a city. I now live in a single-family home and must drive everywhere, even to a store. But I grew up differently, and therefore, have the freedom to transport myself to my hometown any time I please through my memories.
Some streets are well-known and I rely on them to take me to my routine destinations. They are also starting routes to bus stops or even train stations or airports that transport me to places yet unknown. By traveling through these neighborhoods, I can predict where I will be if I take this road or this particular street. I can plan my route and calculate the time it will likely take me to get where I need to go. More often than not, I visit these destinations because of certain obligations or necessities: work, school, store, a meeting.
Yet there are always neighborhoods and places I have never visited before, whether they are a block or thirty blocks away. Occasionally, life will demand that I visit these places for whatever reasons, so I ask for directions, I pair up with another person to find my way, I consult a map. Sometimes, if I have a general idea of where my destination may be, I may even take risks by just trying to find the spot heuristically, using signs, clues, and just plain common sense; it all depends on my destination, the nature of my visit, and my time frame.
Positivism is like a map–it is created using rules and measures. Its utility is tied to its accuracy and rigid assumptions of accuracy. To serve its purpose, a map cannot be too general or ambiguous or mislabeled; otherwise, it is just a bad map. It is UNRELIABLE. Of course, there are maps that attempt to identify places that are still being developed or not even yet explored (Columbus, for example, was in the business of doing just that). Yet, life is more than a map. Some of my most satisfying adventures happen when I just walk and explore, take in the sights and the sounds, and smells, ask other people for help and their opinions, when I connect and create new memories, and when I EXPERIENCE my journey.
Therefore, I can say that I create knowledge about a place either through familiarity or through experience. Both methods are valuable. Both are needed.
I fear, however, that if I live my life by the map, afraid to be lost, I will be no better than a hamster in a wheel. A hamster’s hope is that it is stupid; I, on the other hand, may develop unwanted regrets to haunt me on my deathbed. Similarly, as a researcher, I wonder that if I follow maps and prescriptions, I may just miss my chance at greatness, and join the multitudes of garden-variety scholars (all lovely people, I am sure!) afflicted by the “poverty of complexity” (Manning, The Minor Gesture, p. 17) for the fear of being judged and not found worthy by other scholars, to attain tenure, to survive budget cuts, to publish or perish, to please, to appease, and for any other reason they stay clear of the “confused heap” (Manning, p. 17) that sometimes represents qualitative research.