Man who asks himself
Each human being carries a luggage of questions. We can walk through our lives without opening it, without seeing its contents, not even trying to touch its lock.
While being part of a culture that priories the immediate and the instantaneous, questions are considered obstacles to be dodged instead of rungs to climb on and see further.
Ever since we were kids, we were taught to answer quickly, and the prize for that achieving was a high mark, a tacit symbol of “intelligence”. That unhealthy pressure for obtaining quick answers conditioned us for the rest of our lives without noticing that sometimes the answers constrain human imagination, while the questions expand it.
Despite this, in our childhood we were able to question ourselves about the really important issues. The fact that we didn’t had the right tools or the appropriate environment made us thought that those questions could never be solved, and then we decided to put them aside and buried them in the depths of our consciences.
And now as adults, when significant questions come to surface again (those that can’t be answered with a pencil or a keyboard), we realize that we hadn’t been taught in the art of patience and introspection.
I believe that we all long for certain crucial issues of our existence. And that those who quitted searching or simply decided that there’s nothing to search for, have a subliminal load that limit them.
I also believe that those of us who decide to wander through the questions’ unknown paths, no matter how slow we walk, we reach a place from where maybe we don’t see the Truth, but from where we get an ineffable feeling of certainty.
And maybe that this could be the moment when, as coming out from the hard shell of a lifetime full of programmed answers, it finally could be understood that all our questions can be reduced into only one.
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