When someone asks me a question, I notice that I have predictable patterns of response. Sometimes I have a quick answer, believing that it’s a factual matter and I know the correct response. I rarely stop to look for any elaboration or dig any deeper. I am instantly ready to move on to other matters.
Other times my quick answers can be defensive, though I don’t see this. Only someone who knows me well and cares about my growth is likely to force me to slow down.
“Hey,” says my friend, “you’ve answered before you’ve even had time to process the question. Slow down and absorb it. Take a deep breath and let the pitch of your voice relax. Consider it. I’m not attacking, you know.”
This, of course, is frustrating. It takes effort to do as she, or he, suggests. Still, I try to follow those suggestions because I respect my friend and sense there is wisdom there. I have to sit with momentary discomfort and learn from the examination of possibilities. Such moments can lead me to change my instantaneous reactions into something deeper, more real and much more helpful to my grasp of a so-complex reality.
Then there are the times when questions trigger a moment of mild terror when I sense, deep inside myself, that I have NO IDEA what the answer might be and, worse, no idea of where I might dredge up an answer. For seconds I feel helpless and not very swift. But if I can hold on for a moment, a secondary comprehension creeps in: This is important. This is a true opportunity for discovery. I can listen. I can admit a gap and open myself to input that may fill gaps in my understanding.
If I stay calm, questioners may become coaches, sharers, truth tellers because, in their asking, they’ve given me space to expand my own understanding. Miraculously, in these moments, sometimes an answer comes to me, my own answer, even though I didn’t even know it was in me until I paused and let it begin to surface.
So it occurs to me that I need to place greater value on the questions that I face. They are gifts from life. They offer me the chance to crack open my own assumptions, blind spots, ignorance or narrowness. Without resistance, my muscles cannot gain strength; without questions, my mind cannot gain wisdom. And that is my quest, really, to use my experiences in this life to develop my own potentialities, and then turn and offer assistance to those coming behind me so that they can gain wisdom too. So let me now welcome questions as important signs in my life quest and treasure the spaces they open up.
I believe I can benefit from this approach in all areas of my life, but this is particularly important for my teacher-self. Students’ questions are often probes for more information to truly understand the material. Colleagues’ questions allow be to expand my thinking about my practice. But if I react defensively, assuming that they are challenging me, I miss the opportunity to grow, to learn, and to improve my teaching.
