It is a bit of a curse to be born inquisitive. When I began to challenge the religious thinking that I was raised with it left me feeling terrifyingly untethered, unsettled and deeply unsure of myself and the world around me. The amount of questions I had seemed to anger and annoy most of the folks that I knew in the religious community and they saw them as aggressive, and my asking them an act of rebellion. It made no sense to me that we were unable to discuss our thoughts and fears openly so that we could all gain from the experience and wisdom they provided. It became obvious that other people did not look at questions in the same way, when I got a lot of furrowed brows and blank stares. It taught me that if I am in a situation where questions are not allowed, or my asking of them is mocked or ignored, then I am not in a good place, and should leave. For the most part I have found it to be a profound liability to be aware of different thoughts and ideas and to know that the mere mentioning of them could be met with very negative reactions. 

When I first found The Republic by Plato I was in high school and very much in the middle of a long and drawn out wrestling match with Christianity that had left me wanting very little to do with church, and even less with Christians. I was blown away by a book written by a guy in ancient Greece, that pre-dated Jesus no less, and the way he spoke of life and how we can look at and deal with it. The paradigm I was raised in was now shattered as was the religious identity that I had created. Was it possible to be an authentic, thoughtful and compassionate person without religion? Suddenly there was an old man in a toga telling me yes.

“The unexamined life is not worth living” When I heard this famous quote from Socrates it went off like a firework in my soul. I now understood it was my job to look within and see who I was, and wanted to become without religion telling me what to do, or how to do it. For the first time I was able to look at myself with fresh eyes and non-judgement. The questions that hounded me for so long now became a life line and a saving grace. 

Over the years it became abundantly clear to me that it is just as important, if not more so, to know when to ask a better question as it was to find an answer. I’ve heard people say: “there are no bad questions” but that unfortunately is simply not true. For example the question: “what does blue taste like?” is bad because it lacks a deeper understanding of the nature of color itself, and can never be answered. How then would I know if something I am thinking is an inherently flawed question as well? Perhaps asking “what is the meaning of life?” is the same way, and it can’t be answered because it shows such an obvious lack of understanding of the nature of existence itself? 

With more time and the weight of more internal scrutiny, I thankfully came to another critical conclusion about questions and the perfecting of them, and it was to find a way to be able to get comfortable while doing it. Tuck them in and find a way to wake them with a smile, because it is vital to become a good friend with those things I do not know, and perhaps never will. Much like happiness, it is in the pursuit of them that I find peace and fulfillment, not merely in the discovering of potential personal truths. If I can find a way to confront and embrace my own ignorance and uncertainty than the value in questioning far outweighs any desire for answers and always will.