Questions

The past couple weeks have taught me a fair amount about questions. We’re all meant to know how to ask them, who to ask, how to ask, and certainly how to write that weird backwards S with a dot at the end of a question sentence. So why then is all of these tasks (save the last) so difficult to really answer?

Innocence?
A conversation I had today with a 5-year old I babysit ignited this train of thought. As we were getting her brothers ready to play in water outback, she asked about swimsuits. “Why do boys only wear shorts and girls wear a swimsuit that covers everything?” Oh the birds and the bees-do I get paid extra for this? ☺ I explained in 5-year old terms the reason and on we merrily went, happily running through the water in a moment’s time. Oh to have her innocence that frees to ask about any and all curiosities. That’s what I miss.

Vulnerability?
One thing that keeps me from asking good questions is the fear of being vulnerable. Oh the assumptions one could make from my question. Oh the inner-character I’m revealing from this inquiry. Oh, the possibility of rejection. Telling it straight is a fine art especially when it comes to relationships. Somehow expressing those thoughts and questions seems as difficult as climbing Mt. Everest, but rarely is anyone that cold to warrant such a fear.

Ignorance?
Sometimes we don’t know what we don’t know. I took a friend to small claims court last week and despite the frustration of the reason for being there, I tried to stay calm when talking to the clerk. But for the majority of us who never have to file a small claim with the County Clerk for such was the case with me, this “talking” us really a lot of staring, searching the clerk’s eyes for any hint of help. What do I need to know? How does this process work? Am I making a good decision? Have I crossed all my T’s and dotted the I’s? I thought of every conceivable question I could and my friend, a refugee from Africa, certainly had no better idea than me.

Insecurity?
Who am I to be here, doing this, with them? I don’t want other people to think I’m stupid, uncultured, or naïve. Early last fall I began work as a stagehand. I handled equipment that was both expensive and unique, making it all-around very valuable. At points I was assigned to do tasks that boggled my mind. You want me to do what, how, where, why? And those questions, though elementary, might have reduced risk of injury and a blown circuit. Yet, among my colleagues, whom I assumed were wise and rolling their eyes at incompetent rookies, I clammed up. I just watched with extra diligence and worked slowly (this is a common trait for rookies seen a mile away). But now, as a seasoned rookie, but very much still a rookie, I learned that part of what make my colleagues wise are their questions and mine to them. We keep each other sharp.

So I offer up a few general questions to contemplate. What question needs to be asked? What keeps you from asking? What can you do to overcome that obstacle?
If you were an animal, what would it be? (Not a general question, but fun don’t you think?)