Living the Questions

 I’m experiencing a lot of unknown in life these days. I see the microcosm-macrocosm relationship between my life and what’s going on the larger world. In our world the way it’s always been is no longer working. Systems are collapsing. Our desire to continue doing things because that’s the way we’ve done them for hundreds of years is in conflict with the reality of now.

     I understand the tug of the familiar. The urge to recreate or cling to what was is a defense against the shadowy terrain of the unknown. I fell that pull to try to reconfigure my life into what was and what I’m used to.

    Beside this fear tinged urge to recreate the familiar and comfortable, I feel something else calling me. There is a startling freedom in standing on a precipice. I feel the open space around me. I feel curious.

     Recent events have pushed me question the assumptions I’ve taken on around what I need my life to look like. I’m more aware of the difference between needs and wants. I’m also very aware that I am not in charge or in control of squat.

     I have a choice to go with the fear and try to recreate what was or to stay with the questions.

     Much of what’s come up to be questioned are the beliefs I’ve taken around what my housing situation is supposed to look like and what I, as an adult in this culture, am supposed to own. How did I come to carry those ideas, even though I don’t truly believe them? I keep going back to a conversation I had with my stepmother when I visited my parents over the holidays.

     My stepmother said something like, “Older people don’t really get sick more. That’s just a myth.” My mind immediately jumped to all the ads I’ve seen advocating vaccinations and flu shots for the elderly because they’re more vulnerable.  I’ve seen those ads over and over. That belief is one that I’d taken on without questioning it. But the idea that the elderly get sick more implies that aging makes us ill. Huh?

      Yes, I know elders who seem to succumb to every germ that comes along. But I know people my age and younger who catch everything too. I also have older friends who get sick less than I do

     A ton of research has been done on the relationship between the immune system and our physical, emotional, mental and spiritual well-being. Both prolonged stress and depression weaken the immune system. So do poor nutrition and lack of sleep. In contrast, being fully engaged in your life and having a good support system strengthen the immune system.

     An article last fall in the Chicago Tribune stated “Depression is alarmingly common in older Americans.”  We’ve all heard stories about elders and malnutrition. The older people I know who get sick more often are largely inactive, eat poorly, spend most of their time watching TV and have minimal support systems. All of those factors contribute to a weaken immune system.

    My elder friends who are more resistant to colds than I am eat well and have solid support networks. Their lives are filled with things they find meaningful.

    So among the elderly in America, a number of secondary factors often combine, resulting in a weakened immune system. However aging, in and of itself, does not make you more vulnerable to getting sick.

    The conversation with my stepmother stuck with me because dismantling my beliefs around it let me see how those beliefs got cemented into fact. I heard the causal link between age and illness recited over and over. I probably even repeated it. Repetition reinforced the link until it became as solid and inevitable as gravity.

      I didn’t question what I heard; I just took it in. I forgot that just because two things often occur at the same time does not mean that one directly caused the other. This leads me to looking at where else in my life I’ve done and am doing the same thing.   

     Speaking is an act of creation that goes deeper than the words. It’s not only what I say but the energy and intention behind the words. When I repeat something I’ve heard I am recreating it for myself. If I do that with things I haven’t examined, I risk recreating something that doesn’t fit and isn’t really what I want.

    I’m questioning a lot of things right now; including the way I live with questions and finding
answers. With small questions like “where did I put my keys?” it’s important to find the answer. But that answer is temporary. My keys may be in my messenger bag now, but the next time I look for them they could be in my jacket pocket.

     With bigger questions when I find an answer, I often leap to that being the answer.  The answer isn’t temporary. I tend to set it in stone by hanging onto it for months or years. The answer reinforces my beliefs, shapes my experiences and informs the way I see the world.

     The answer also makes it hard for me to hear myself when I’m drawn to asking more questions. When I think I have the answer, it’s easier for me to dismiss further questions. 

     This uncovering has moved me toward a new intention of holding my answers lightly. An answer is temporary respite, not a permanent stop. I have a curious, questioning nature. There will always be things in me that are unresolved. I am better served by living the questions than by holding the answer as a place to arrive.