Being Breath

stories from the wilderness of everyday life

Questions Without Answers

 

I took this picture recently at our State Fair.

Immediately after, my very dear friend who was with me asked why I just took a picture of broken glass.

Instinctively (to avoid silence and look as though I had an "answer"), I responded that it provides a good layer in Photoshop.  (This is true, but isn't the intention I had when taking the picture)

He seemed satisfied and we moved on.

 

I couldn't.

 

Truth be told, I don't know why I took the picture.  I just saw it and was drawn to capture it.

Truth be told, I don't know why I answered as I did.  I immediately felt I needed an answer, that "I thought it looked cool" seemed too childish, and that silence would somehow display my ignorance of the photographic arts.

I didn't mean to lie - to him or myself.

 

There is such wisdom in silence.  Such freedom in not knowing.  Such release in admitting this.

But for most of us, it is so uncomfortable to be in this space.

We are unaccustomed to flowing with life, to not having control, to not having an answer.  Creative exploration - be it taking a photo, bending over to examine the life coming through the cracks on sidewalk, painting without an image in mind to portray, or even brainstorming in a business meeting - seems like a waste of time, or worse - ignorance.  

What if I - if we - could envision life simply as exploration --  A continuous mindful experience?

 

Another dear online friend once wrote, "I've stopped explaining".  I smiled when I read that.  

I wish to stop explaining to those who are looking only for an answer.  My life does not have answers.

Why do I praise my children one minute and yell at them the next?  Why do I live in clutter while advocating simplicity?  Why do I paint chairs and roses and faceless people?  Why do I blog or run or meditate or drink Diet Coke.....

Why do I take pictures of broken glass?

 

I breathe and live in the questions.

 

In your life, what has no explanation?

Namaste.