I remember one day in Grade 5, when I came home and told my mother what I had learned in science class. I was on fire with it.  This was in the 50’s, long before we all heard about quantum physics

‘Mum,” I said, “When you look at that chair and think it’s solid, that’s not really how it is!”

“What do you mean?” she asked me.

“It’s just how it looks,” I told her. “ But really, that chair, and everything else, is made of tiny little particles called molecules and atoms, that are zooming around all the time.”

My mother looked quite stunned. “Are you sure that’s what your teacher said?” she asked me. “And what are these little zooming things made of?”

“Well,” I said, saving the best for the last, “molecules and atoms are really nothing but space.” After that my mother was very quiet. She just walked around, touching things and shaking her head, for the rest of the day, in a state of wonder, curiosity and deep bewilderment.

I have always remembered the feeling of that afternoon. It was as if my mother and I reached a precipice, over which our minds could not carry us; and we stood there together, peering into the mystery of Being.

There’s an ancient yogic scripture called ‘Tripura Rahasya’ that describes this kind of awareness. The yogis called these moments ‘samadhis’ and valued them highly. A samadhi can happen in a moment of great shock- when an accident happens, or a death, or profound loss. It can also happen when the mind is arrested by great beauty, or love. It happens to athletes when they get ‘in the zone.’ When this space opens up you are just here, in this moment. There is a feeling of dynamism and stillness at the same time. You are not knowing, but simply being. For most of us, these moments pass, and we get back on the treadmill of our minds, moving around and around in the world of what we we know, believe and expect. It’s often a small and confining world, without a lot of joy, curiosity and discovery.

Working with people, I’ve noticed how many carry a great longing to let go of what they know and believe and move into something vast and mysterious. At the same time they hold a lot of fear about it. I had a good conversation with a friend of mine over the weekend, about how hard it is to let go of what we know, or think we know. ‘Maybe it’s not so hard,’ my friend said, ‘maybe that’s just another belief.’ I’ve been pondering that ever since. What I’ve come to is that it takes some practice. It’s a bit like what the Red Queen said to Alice in Wonderland, “I daresay you haven’t had much practice. Why some days I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”

To me it seems like the practice has several aspects. At first it is just learning to appreciate the actual state of not knowing in itself. It’s not just this static, empty thing we imagine. It’s actually a dynamic and graceful place, full of openness, courage and vulnerablilty. We have not been taught this way. We’ve been taught to fear and avoid the place of not-knowing and vulnerability, as if we’ll get stuck there forever; instead of appreciating it as the place out of which deep knowing emerges. Look at a child and you’ll see the incredible aliveness that happens when we live in a state of constant discovery. “A child came to me and said ‘What is the grass?’ And I did not know, anymore than he did.” (Walt Whitman)

In order to appreciate this vibrant, innocent place of discovery, we have to let go of wanting to be right; we have to release the urge for certainty. “Live with the question. We can never find a specific answer, it is the living with it that is the answer.” (Jean Klein) Wanting to be right and certain is a deep human conditioning. Being wrong or mistaken can make us feel like a small and foolish child. We long to assert ourselves in the face of this wrongness and feel strong, implacable and right. In fact, our thirst for certainty is part and parcel of our collective survival system, connected with our wish to be safe, to protect ourselves. I think it’s a good idea to respect this system. It’s built into our D.N.A. and we’re not going to get rid of it in a hurry. But if we allow it to dominate us, we lose our willingness to explore, to open, to be tender and fully alive.

What works for me in the face of this urge is to attend to the wisdom that lives in my body. It happened the other night, when my partner and I were looking for a house in the dark. He had one idea and I had another idea, and he wasn’t listening to me. It turned out that I was right, and I really wanted him to know that.  In that moment of wanting to assert my rightness, I felt my whole body became hard, as if something was closing and clenching. I disengaged from the moment and retreated into my head. Even my breath closed down. And I realized I’d rather relax and let go.

It’s important to realize that the whole quality of our intelligence depends on our ability to ask questions and suspend assumptions. I’ve noticed all my life how often people are afraid to ask their real questions. Sometimes that question will be sitting in the middle of the room like an elephant, and nobody is asking it.  Did that ever happen to you?

I started asking those questions a long time ago, and the more I asked the easier it got.  Whenever I get stuck I just stop and ask myself what I am protecting. I realize in that moment that I have made a self-image more important than the awakening of my own intelligence and wisdom. I see very clearly that I am choosing to sit here and look good, rather than ask the question that will expose my not knowing.

Our questions happen on two levels-the deeper ones cannot be answered by anyone else. Some of them can be answered, if we are willing to ask.  I’ve discovered, over and over, that most people are delighted and honoured to share their wisdom. In a course I did once, we had to walk down to the main street in town, and ask someone on that street where the same street was. It was amazing. Not one person in the course received a response of “You idiot, you’re standing on it!” These days I call it the art of the dumb question. So does Marilyn Waring, the revolutionary spokesperson for global/feminist economics, who brought down her own government by asking the right dumb questions.

‘Questions
that can make
or unmake
a life,

questions
that have patiently
waited for you,

questions
that have no right
to go away.’ (David Whyte)

Of course, sometimes the opposite is true too. Sometimes we pretend not to know things that we really do know. Here are some questions for you to contemplate:

* Is there a question you need to ask that you have not?
* What is stopping you from asking that question?
* Do you equate vulnerability with weakness?
* What are you pretending to know that you really don’t?
* What are you pretending not to know that you really do?
* How much mystery have you allowed into your life?

Sources and references:

Walt Whitman-’Leaves of Grass’
‘Who’s Counting?’ Marilyn Waring on Sex, Lies and Global Economics.
‘Tripura Rahasya’-The Secret of the Supreme Goddess
‘Transmission of the Flame’-Jean Klein
David Whyte-’Sometimes’

with love
Shayla