The Never-ending Question

Why? Why is the sky blue? Why is the grass green? Why does anything exist at all? Why are you there and instead of here? Why do you think that instead of this…and it goes on and on and on.

You know that really annoying song that starts “this is the song that never ends…” – I am that song personified.

Why? Why is the sky blue? Why is the grass green? Why does anything exist at all? Why are you there and instead of here? Why do you think that instead of this…and it goes on and on and on.

You know that really annoying song that starts “this is the song that never ends…” – I am that song personified.

I have always been one to ask questions. From as far back as I can remember I have been “that person”. I’m the annoying kid whose hand always shot up in class. I’m “that guy” who keeps the meeting going on forever with question after question.

It’s annoying but mostly for others. For me I just need to know why? Why make this decision? Why make it in this way? Why not make it in this way?

The antagonist. The (insert less praiseworthy word here).

It rarely wins me friends so you would think I would learn. I mean I am honestly seeking to understand things. If the question does not feel answered it gets asked louder and to more people. I have learned that questions are harder to ignore when you involve more people.

I have always believed in the mantra “Question Everything”. Perhaps that’s what drew me to journalism. Question faith, not just others’ but your own. Question life. Question politics. Question decisions of all kinds.

Question everything. Learn something. Answer nothing.” Said the great Greek playwright Euripides.

Maybe Euripides understood the idea of the question better than most by pairing it with “answer nothing”. The point of the question is the question itself as the point of the trip is the journey and not the destination as some say.

The questions of course are not all outward facing, contrary to appearances. Most of my questions are inward ones. I question myself, my motives, my value etc. in the spirit of the other great quote from the Greeks inscribed at the temple of Apollo at Delphi – “know thyself”.

So far I have failed miserably here but I keep at it hoping for a breakthrough.

People do not like questions. Questions make people feel, often mistakenly, like they are being questioned or attacked. This causes them to react defensively and rather than engage the question or questioner they either hide or react. Either way the point is lost.

Of course there is something to be said for how the question is delivered.

I have been, not unfairly, accused of delivering questions like a bull in a china shop. Subtlety and deftness having been lost on me somewhere and replaced with blunt, indelicate hammers sewn onto my hands.

And so I suppose I am still seeking to perfect the art of the question and probably will be for life. Why do you read my columns? Why do you NOT read my columns? Why do you like them? Why do you hate them? To be or not to be?

If I had to guess I suspect my very last words in life will be a question.

Why do I think that? I wonder – should end this post with a question?

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