Skip to main content

Questioning the questioning


Waking up in the morning, asking yourself the same question once more: Who am I?

You stand up, walk towards the door, encounter your mother, your father or your beloved one, and you ask yourself: where is all of this going?

A shower, a breakfast, you leave the house for work and you catch yourself wondering: what am I doing with my life?

Do you know the feeling of emptiness towards questions you postpone to answer? The same, consciousness drilling, agony triggering emptiness that haunts you with those other question marks in your life.

An infinitely long string of troubling, nerve-racking questions that serve only the purpose of enlarging the hole of darkness within.

Over and over we roll and we seek for the answers. But with every answer ten new questions rise and we find ourselves trapped within the devil’s circle.

A terrible situation to be in and a state no one would trade you for. The abyss of the unknown and uncertainty, the life of mystery evoking only negativity. And if one would dare to raise their hands towards the heavens and their tears might drop on the hot floor beneath they are caught upon, evaporating the drop of hope in an instant, none would help and everything would be left to final despair. The thoughts of those lost in the circle…

Chained beneath the earth, in a deep cave, face front towards the wall showing a play of shadows. The allegory of Plato. Maybe it is the guilt of the one who seeks a resolve through the shadows on the walls. Would he turn around and detect the light shining through the entrance of the cave, he might drop the questions and start the climb.

But life isn’t as simple as that a body turn could lift you out of the cave. It’s a struggle. A fight against the chains at your feet, at your hands. A climb that will wound you, make you bleed and is in general related with all sorts of pain. Your close ones will try to hinder you, because they themselves are waiting at the bottom of the cave, chained and in trance by the play of the shadows on the wall. Some do not question them, some just enjoy them, declare them as truth. Their truth. And anyone trying to escape the pit they regard with animosity and insult them with wasting time.

Indeed. The fall into the pit might be a hazy process one might not keep track of. Not realizing the fall, one feels the hit and finds a different truth beneath the earth. A fact of life they gladly accept, if it only means for a moment to escape the world outside. And why should they not, there are plenty of like-minded souls sharing the same fate, enjoying the play on the walls.

But what argument is there to not give up, to not be content with your place in the cave?

Maybe, and just maybe, it’s not about asking questions all the time to get out of that dark place. Maybe, it’s just about asking the right questions. Because the amount of questions you can ask is infinite, but the amount of questions you need to ask, is not.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Tears

There in the distance a faint glow - a red flickering ball in the blue sky above. I see black smoke rising and a whisper of men and women screaming resounds in my ears. “Where am I?” I wonder, scoping my surroundings in curiosity. The floor is tinted in a bluish gray - the ground I’m seated on feels hard. I look to my right and see a steep hill rising. There are lush greens on the top, but the rising is a deep brown. “Uh- ah-” A tiny voice awakens left to me. I turn around and am amazed. There is a small girl lying just next to me dressed in an all gray gown. I observe her for a moment. I wonder if she’s alright. “Who are you little girl?” I ask her. Maybe I should have started with how are you doing, but my curiosity got the better of me. “Where-” she starts “am I? Who are you? What!” She stops in mid-sentence as she catches a glimpse of her clothing. “WHAT HAPPENED TO MY DRESS!” she calls out to me. “Calm down, will you? How should I know, I’m just as surp
1 comment
Read more

A cycle of introspection

A voice from deep within asked him: "What is it that makes you whole?" In an empty desert, on a path chosen long ago, he stopped for a moment. He didn't wonder who the voice belonged to, he already knew. He always knew when his conscience was talking. As always, it kept taunting him or at least he thought it was. "I've given up on being whole long ago, I've accepted it... to be broken, to have fallen..." His voice was weary, tired even. Not from the endless walking, but from this ever repeating cycle of questioning. In a way, his answer felt rehearsed. This didn't justify thinking, so he didn't. An auto-response to an auto-generated series of questions. He had no answers, so why bother. "Must be nice, running away, avoiding the difficult questions, but there is an obvious flaw in your reasoning." Sometimes it scared him, this invisible voice. Ever so often, it would try to break the cycle by approaching him from new angles.
Post a Comment
Read more

Words inspired by a failed year...

What do you want me to say? I have nothing for you. I have nothing for anybody. I have failed so many times at so many things I stopped counting. You want me to be “normal”? To behave “normal”, to act like society expects me to? I’m not that guy. I’m not that person. I’d rather wallow in dirt rather than accommodate to what the people around me expect me to be. Yes, I know what that means. I know what this kind of way of thinking will eventually lead to. I don’t care and I mean it. It’s not that I’m unaware of the consequences, I am, don’t worry. It’s just that I stopped worrying about things I may or may not achieve. A diploma, a marriage, a good life and a good fortune… no, everything I need is simple. If there is one thing I need to be aware of it’s my lack of submission to the truth of my existence. I’m not afraid of dying alone. I’m not afraid of never finding love. I’m not afraid of not making enough money. The only thing I can do is try. And as long as I try, it doesn’
Post a Comment
Read more