There once was a pig who wallowed in the mud. Socrates happened to notice from the roadside and thought to himself, “That pig cannot be happy. It does not yet know the distinctions that I know. I have discovered very many things in life, and, although none of the ideas which I have probed generated true and lasting fulfillment, at least I am not a pig! I know that I know nothing– whereas the pig actually knows nothing! Although the pig smiles when he tosses mud about and rolls playfully in his own feces, he does not yet know how fleeting his pleasure truly is. Such a behavior cannot truly produce a deep and abiding happiness!”
The pig, which at that very moment frolicked snout-deep in the mud and joyously used his muzzle as a shovel, watched a sad looking old man stand by the roadside. The pig thought to itself, “Wow, that man sure looks unhappy! I don’t know what it is like to be a human, but it doesn’t take much more than a pig brain to realize that man is miserable! Perhaps he is miserable because he is not a pig? That would make sense. I really enjoy my life, wallowing and mating and eating and playing all day long. Of course I don’t know what happens when the farmer takes my kind away to the shed. I hear squeals, perhaps of delight or terror– I’m pretty bad at distinguishing those! Maybe that man is sad because he doesn’t know that he desires my way of living! Perhaps he is sad about his ignorance!”
The pig’s error was to think that something you don’t know can make you sad. If you don’t know it, you can’t possibly know what you’re missing out on– unless, of course, that you are aware that you don’t know!