This is all true, but it is also an analogy about religion and tradition.
When I was young, I was a pretty good programmer. This was back when nobody would laugh if you studied COBOL to secure your future employment. Anyway! I also did take an interest in microprocessors, reading about the new models, and I even wrote a little bit in assembler code as a hobby. I think most of us didn't do that, though. And we certainly had no need to. As long as you knew a specific high-level language and understood it deeply, you could make mighty good code without knowing what a processor was made of. If you thought the computer was powered by magic crystals possessed by demons, you would certainly be a nut, but you could still write excellent programs as long as you stuck to the code.
With computers, the development has gone toward greater abstraction, more distance between hardware and software. The early developers needed to know their processor inside and out to squeeze the most performance out of it. Now, you just wait a year and buy a new processor that is twice as fast.
But in the realm of mind, it is the other way around. We learn more and more about the processors, our brains. This causes some people to think that traditions from before the Decade of the Brain (1990es) are worthless. But this is not necessarily so at all. Within their own domain, sets of knowledge are largely self-contained. You may be convinced that you are thinking with your heart and your brain is there for producing mucus, but as long as you follow the rules, you can still thoroughly rewire your brain, even to the point of causing visible physical change over a large enough number of years, as seen in Tibetan monks.
If something works, then knowing WHY it works is optional. It is probably still a good idea to know, if you can, but it should not unduly distract you from actually doing.
