Swimming in New Waters: My Wiki-Story

I open my browser, type the word “Casa” press Enter, and wait for the page to load. This is my way of checking my connection when the internet seems to be acting up. If all goes well, the first link that appears on the screen is http://es.wikipedia.org: Casa – Wikipedia, la enciclopedia libre. Online, most searches related to knowledge lead us to Wikipedia. I’d even go so far as to say they’re all of them.

For a long time, the platform struck me as a kind of “meta-knowledge”: a complex and abstract entity, clearly beyond the capabilities of any user.

My first real encounter with this “meta-cognitive power” took place a little over three years ago. I must admit that at first it wasn’t a pleasant or smooth experience; on the contrary, I found it extremely confusing. I’m not referring to the act of consuming the content, but rather to that of creating it. My first attempt at editing showed me that I was truly facing a complex, incomprehensible system.

But in every entertaining story, there’s a plot twist that changes the course of events. Mine has a name and wears glasses: My Friend “Wikimaster.” Her invitation and her genuine interest in getting me to give the platform a second chance—patiently explaining to me how collective creation works—led to my first effective interaction.

As I kept uploading photos, describing them, captioning them, and adding captions, I realized two things: first, that the process isn’t that difficult and that every small contribution counts; second, that I had become accustomed to immediacy, to the simplicity of fleeting results, and to the pleasure of instant gratification. On Wikipedia, things don’t work that way.

In a socio-digital environment dominated by instant gratification, collaborating on Wikipedia forces you to slow down and understand the value of permanence.

Today, after having edited, written, and proofread articles—as well as contributed photographs intended to spread knowledge rather than chase the “likes” that typically drive social media—I feel confident in saying that Wikipedia is not a metapower; it is a horizontal space where we share what we know and where, by interacting with the knowledge shared by others, we also learn. I don’t consider myself an expert, but rather an enthusiast—someone who experiments with and enjoys an ecosystem that opens doors to connect, create, and achieve.

Something that really surprised me was discovering that every meeting is guided by the Friendly Spaces Policies. At first glance, they might seem like simple rules of basic coexistence: respect for each person’s ideas and circumstances, non-discrimination, valuing others’ opinions… the usual, right? …Well, no! That’s not what we experience on a daily basis. In our daily lives, we’re used to empathy for others’ well-being being seen as an exceptional act of altruism, not as a common rule of coexistence that triggers protocols for action and response. Here, empathy isn’t an obligation, but the foundation for building the environment. It’s not the voice of the strongest that prevails, but dialogue and genuine free expression. At least, that’s what I experienced.

Under this structure designed to allow multifaceted freedom to thrive, it becomes clearer that building free knowledge is not just an academic task—it is a vision and a methodology. Here, the end does not justify the means; rather, it is the means and the methods that, step by step, build it. Thus, the final result ceases to be a static goal and becomes a living process that constantly renews, grows, and diversifies.

I recently completed the “Green Digital Skills in Wikimedia” course, organized by Wikimedians of Uruguay (WDU), where volunteers of different nationalities were able to share their knowledge. As with every Wikimedia gathering and experience, you could feel the enthusiasm for sharing, for spreading knowledge, and for helping others. So: Does this “META-KNOWLEDGE” exist? Definitely yes, but it is not a singular achievement; rather, it is a shared responsibility, shaped by every contributor—every editor.

Now I know that it is a tool within everyone’s reach and for everyone to build upon, one that is not limited to the digital realm; it is a community that facilitates and shares the wisdom that each of us already possesses. What is truly “Meta” lies in every editor who builds, click by click, a reference encyclopedia that—without claiming to be a primary source—disseminates what is closest to the truth: knowledge that is the product of a collaborative effort, which seeks to be free from individual biases because it belongs to us and is created by everyone.

How did I go from being a clumsy photo uploader to promoting inter-institutional projects (a pursuit that now has me swimming in deep, sweet waters)? I don’t know—maybe by applying what I’ve learned, or perhaps because I want everyone to see what I now see. Most likely, when you have the support of people who know that connecting, doing, and achieving are the path to follow, the road becomes smoother, and the journey is a lot of fun.

And that’s how my WikiAdventure (no longer just a story) begins.

How can I end an article that describes a beginning?

(A.— It’s paradoxical, because this adventure isn’t over—only the first few pages have been written and read. I just hope there’s enough ink and paper for what’s to come.)

A.— I won’t do that.

Oh, by the way, I’ve shared a couple of photos above; you know, for someone who lives in and enjoys the visual world, there are no good adventures without images either.