Living the Questions
“Try to love the questions themselves . . . Don’t try to find the answers now, for you would not be able to live them. Live the questions now. Perhaps you then, may gradually without noticing, one day in the future, live into the answers.”
—Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet, Letter 4
“The present moment is the only place where you can actually choose.”
—Joanna Macy (or possibly Anita Barrows)
“If you are faithful to a question, it will be faithful back.”
—Krista Tippett
“It’s a living world. We can listen to it . . . It’s a mystery. And we can meet the mystery. And then it talks.”
—Joanna Macy (or possibly Anita Barrows)
Hello Courageous Thrivers,
Recently I had a conversation with my eldest son about my early religious training, which was embedded in a version of Christianity that didn’t have much room for mystery. Or at least, the only mysteries it had room for were the ones that aligned with what had been decided to be Right Doctrine.
In that framework, one needs to know the right answers (and ask the right questions) in order to be saved from eternal punishment.
It’s very stressful in some ways—trying to know the right answers. But in other ways, it’s comforting to believe there’s one Holy Checklist of Right and Wrong. If you’re lucky enough to be born into, or stumble into, the community of the-ones-who-know-the-right-answers, then you don’t have to deal with the discomfort of the unknown.
I understand why many young people—especially young men—are gravitating toward dogmatic religion as the world shifts under their feet. Knowing the right answer feels really good. There’s a certainty to hold onto. And that can feel incredibly safe.
The problem is, as I suspect you know, that Life doesn’t offer us certainty. It offers mystery. It offers opportunities to trust. It offers beauty and pain. But certainty? Nope.
The quotations above come from a podcast I listened to on the plane back from visiting my son. A conversation between the late Joanna Macy, Anita Barrows, Krista Tippett, and the writings of Rainer Maria Rilke. They name so well what I’m just beginning to live into—the joy of living the questions instead of desperately searching for answers.
They didn’t use the word joy in their conversation, but that is, at least, one of the emotional states I find more accessible as I live the questions of this time—collectively and individually.
“Try to love the questions themselves…”
It surprises me even as I write this, that on this day (not every day, of course!) I am finding joy in the midst of uncertainty. I am experiencing curiosity about what will emerge in the coming months and years. I feel a deep relief in letting go of needing to know it all in advance—or needing to be sure about everything I think I know in this moment.
“The present moment is the only place where you can actually choose.”
For much of my life, I’ve struggled with indecision—whether it was as small as what to order for lunch (but what if I pick the wrong thing and I’m disappointed and it ruins my afternoon??) or as large as crafting a group coaching program that would be truly welcoming to all, especially those with marginalized identities.
When faced with the reality that I couldn’t know the future, I looked for someone else to give me the right answer—another book, another course, a sign from the Universe (or, in earlier years, the Bible)—anything to avoid making a “wrong” choice.
The result? There were many, many present moments I didn’t really live. Because I didn’t choose. I froze.
“If you are faithful to a question, it will be faithful back.”
I adore this reflection Krista Tippett shared. As someone whose job it is to ask questions to get answers, I’m deeply inspired by her commitment to Rilke’s invitation. She describes it as a dialogue, a reciprocal relationship.
It strikes me that when I demand answers from Life or the Great Mystery, it doesn’t feel like relationship—it feels like desperation. There’s fear, begging, urgency. It’s a vending machine, not a dance with a beloved.
But when I relax back into the question… when I seek to love and live it… when I surrender to the human experience of not knowing—something shifts. There’s often a subtler, deeper kind of knowing that emerges. It’s paradoxical and hard to describe. I feel it as a centering in my heart. In the Bible, it’s called “the peace that passes understanding.”
Somehow, from that place, I can choose my next step—with trust that all will be well, even if I make a mistake.
“It’s a living world. We can listen to it . . . It’s a mystery. And we can meet the mystery. And then it talks.”
Living the questions opens us to the mystery of the world. It’s a letting go of control. Of perfectionism. It’s a portal to Aliveness. And maybe even the key to seeing how amazing Life is—and how amazing we are.
At least, that’s what Joanna Macy and Andrea Gibson seemed to discover. Each of them passed from this world recently, just days apart. When it’s my time to go, I want to leave with a heart full of love for Life and humanity too.
During this time of chaos and change:
May we live and love the questions of our lives.
May we meet the mystery.
And may we hear the messages that arise from the unknowing.
Resources
Podcast episode with Joanna Macy, Anita Barrows, Krista Tippett, and Rilke’s writings
Rilke’s Book of Hours: Love Poems to God, translated by Anita Barrows & Joanna Macy