A simple insight, made many times before, but it ties into complexity and uncertainty.
Life is always incomplete. There is no way that I can read or even gain access to everything that is important, or everything that might illumine my thinking, change my mind, or improve my art. I am incomplete, I am uncertain in my understanding. I am unfinished.
No matter how many books I buy, my collections will always be incomplete. There is always more philosophy to think about, facts about life to know, novels to read, music and different performances to listen to.
Partly this occurs because life is finite. You are unlikely to get more than 120 years or about 6,000 weeks of living, which is not much. But even if you lived forever, the chances are high that you could not get, read, look at or hear everything you wanted, as it would keep being produced as you lived.
The attempt to gain all this experience or knowledge is self defeating, because it consumes the time you could be living, or developing what you do know, and have experienced. It takes time away from life, and diminishes life.
Of course you have to learn some amounts of material, and you are always learning, but there is a point at which the returns diminish and the loss through seeking accumulates.
The art is recognising when you are hitting those limits, and have to put up with incompleteness and uncertainty.
Those of a more mystical bent, would probably tell you that, once you have attained supplies of food and shelter, you already have most of what you really need, you just have to realise access to it.
