The Question

The question is posed. There it floats, slowly evaporating in the center of the room. The question offers a truth, truth about what is alive within the questioner, thoughts driving the questioner’s emotions and animating her to speak. The question seems to suggest absurdity, to suggest that the current topic is unworthy of further examination. There we are, the four of us: me, the questioner, others listening, and the question.

The opportunity is fleeting. Will I react to feelings stimulated from the question? Will I focus solely on the question, on its challenge to my current story? Will I forget the questioner, myself, and the others? Will I miss this opportunity to acknowledge thoughts and feelings actuated by the foreign element, the question, suddenly entering the room?

Captured in my clinging, clinging to my current story, appreciation is literally unthinkable. My impatient impulse seizes the moment. I respond only to the question. Here it is; my arising regret for lost opportunity, my lost opportunity to respond in appreciation for the questioner’s contribution, to honor what is stimulated for those offering their listening ear, and to disclose, as a witness, my unseen feelings, my confusion and disorientation stimulated by the question. Oh, what a chance to commune, to connect.

Have you been there? Have you been challenged with an opportunity to respond from your heart to the unexpected? I wrote this to remind me about who is present in any discussion, to remind me of what is beyond my story, to remind me of my opportunity to respond first to the hearts of those witnessing our developing story, then to respond to the question that arises.

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