Brush and Sword

The newsletter by Sameer Sharma

Issue #8

Live The Questions-It's the search that matters; not the answers.

Living the Questions

"I want to beg you, as much as I can, dear sir, to be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer."-Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters To A Young Poet

As an artist, I can attest to Rilke's advice. Creativity is an act of living the question. When I paint, I’m painting questions, not answers. This advice was also given by my art teacher when in class he once said, “Paint questions, not answers.” But to paint questions, I have to live them. The paradox is that the questions must be lived without any insistence on an answer. Why? Because I have no control over when and how the answer may appear. I’ve found that the answer is not as valuable as the question. The wisdom and growth are all in the question. The answer is its confirmation. If I can live the question, then as Rilke states, I may one day live the answer. Even if I don’t, it is the living that matters.

A Doorway Into Wonder

When you live the question, you become permeable like gauze that allows things to pass in and through you. You’re open to receiving because you’ve surrendered your sense of knowing. When I know something or have “figured it out,” I exclude all other possibilities and limit myself. My beliefs and assumptions make me impermeable to possibilities. But when I can give up the fight, my ignorance becomes the catalyst to wonder.

Wonder is where the magic lives. It’s that state of potentiality where anything could happen. And whatever does happen seems like magic to the rational mind. Wonder is above the rational mind’s pay grade. As useful and essential as the rational mind thinks itself to be, it pales in comparison to wonder.

The state of wonder is like a child experiencing something for the first time. The child's faculties are attuned, sensitive, and present. The elusive “flow state” that we artists and athletes chase like a drug is here in wonder. That sense of timelessness is here in wonder. Insights and breakthroughs appear here in wonder. I’ve used the word, “here” when describing wonder. Wonder only occurs in the present moment; never in the past or future.

Wonder is elusive because we are usually ruminating about the past or future and are never present. The act of creating anchors you in the present moment. I can't think about tomorrow and paint the right brushstroke in this moment. The more time you can spend in wonder, the more timeless things seem.

“Sell your cleverness and purchase bewilderment.”- Rumi

Negative Capability

As beautiful, magical, and timeless as wonder can be, it is also uncertain and can feel downright scary. This uncertain, mysterious quality of wonder is what also keeps most people away from it. Our reptilian brains are wired for survival. We seek safety and security, which is the antithesis of wonder.

In my previous article, I discussed how vulnerability is an artist’s real talent. When I am vulnerable, I’ve taken my armor off and exposed myself to what I fear. Like a muscle, vulnerability strengthens repetition. The more I can be with my fears and doubts, the less power they have over me. The poet, John Keats, called this, “Negative Capability”.

"Several things dovetailed in my mind, & at once it struck me, what quality went to form a Man of Achievement especially in Literature & which Shakespeare possessed so enormously — I mean Negative Capability, that is when man is capable of being in uncertainties, Mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact & reason — Coleridge, for instance, would let go by a fine isolated verisimilitude caught from the Penetralium of mystery, from being incapable of remaining content with half knowledge. This pursued through Volumes would perhaps take us no further than this, that with a great poet the sense of Beauty overcomes every other consideration, or rather obliterates all consideration." - John Keats

Living the question is living with the uncertainties, fears, doubts and mysteries that are inherent to being human. Suppressing, avoiding, and denying them takes more energy than walking alongside them. When I’m chasing the answer, I’m actually running away from my fears rather than towards wonder. But I can never outrun my fears. They always catch up.

What works for me is to invite the fear long for the ride. At first, it will be that annoying backset driver. This is when you get to practice Keat's "negative capability". Let the fear kick and scream. In time, it will subside and loosen its grip on you. The discipline is to not fight it. In time, fear transforms from a warning alarm to a background white noise. It comfirms that I've stepped out of my comfort zone and am living my questions.

The Sound of One Hand Clapping

When you can live them, questions transform from a problem to a meditation. This is akin to the study of koans in Zen Buddhism. The koan is a nonsensical question whose purpose is to still the chatter of the rational monkey mind. One of the most famous koans is, "What is the sound of one hand clapping?" One of my favorite koans is, "What was your original face before your parents were born?"

The original face koan inspired this painting, "The Illusion of Both Selves". If my rational mind had a clear answer to the koan, then I would not have painted it. The painting was an act of living the question, "What was my original face before my parents were born?" I still don't know. But the question gave birth to the painting. For me, living the question was making the painting. The koan or question’s purpose is the living, experiencing, feeling, and creating.

"The Illusion of Both Selves" Self-Portrait. (Click for details)

The koan is like bait. It lures the rational mind to find the answer. Eventually, the rational mind gives up because the questions themselves are irrational. They can't be solved like a math equation. The koan throws a monkey wrench in your rational machinery and brings it to a grinding halt. This makes space for intuition, wonder, and creativity.

This is space is where genius lives. The shouts of our rational monkey mind drowns the soft whisper of creative intuiton. It's not until the rational mind accepts defeat and gives up can we hear our intuition. My breakthroughs often occur after I've hit a wall, exhausted my intellect and proclaim, "I have no idea!"

"My barn having burned down, I can now see the moon." -Mizuta Masahide, 17th century Japanese poet and samurai

I Have No Idea

“I have no idea!" is one of the most liberating things I can say to myself. When I can admit that I don't know, I can surf the question like a wave and let it carry me. In that moment, I’ve dropped the burden of being right and looking smart. I feel lighter and more relaxed when I say this. It's like the euphoria after an intense workout. Your body is exhausted yet you feel lighter, relaxed, and at ease.

The rational mind doesn't want to live the question. It sees the question as a threat. But the heart doesn't care about the answer. It sees the question as an invitation to open and feel its way through it.

In a previous article, I talked about the difference between connection and attachment. When I can live the question, I am connected to the present and open to wonder. When I am attached to finding the answer, I am motivated by fear and no longer present. It's ironic that when I can live the question, I am more secure than when I'm searching for the answer. Living the question lowers the stakes. It gives me permission to experiment; which is vital for creativity. When I can admit, "I have no idea!", I connect to this moment and create space for myself to just be. It's not a statement of ignorance but rather one of courage and wisdom. "I have no idea" frees me from the burden of knowing. Then I can play and create.

"I know that I know nothing."- Socrates

Growing Into The Shell

I like to think that the now 52-year-old me is wiser than the 20-year-old me. Yet, this wisdom is not because I have more answers. It's because I ask better questions. By "better" I mean questions that today are too big for me to answer. By living them, I grow into them like a snail grows into its newfound larger shell. The space inside the new shell is akin to the question. To live the question is to inhabit its space and grow into it.

Answers can become limitations like the snail's old shell. They provide a short-term solution. Yet, they can hinder long-term growth when you are unwilling to trade them for bigger questions. Answers can feel claustrophobic. They crowd out wonder and possibilities. When I'm too sure about myself, I know it’s time to abandon the known and step into the Unknown.

"The road to human development is paved with renunciation. Throughout our life, we grow by giving up.” -Judith Viorst

Now, I understand more because my questions reveal how little I know. Experience has taught me to hold my beliefs and assumptions lightly. When I can do this, I am free to live ever bigger questions and allow the answers to come whenever they do, if it all. If the questions are like Rilek says, “locked rooms”, then I knock and wait patiently.

Yet, some doors never open while others swing wide open. Some questions may remain closed shut. Others will unravel and bloom into an answer. Live the question, and allow the path to unfold on its own. You'll end up somewhere far more exciting than where your rational mind could take you. Walk on the firm ground of the question rather than the quicksand of an answer.

Best,