drop the question in
This summer, I participated in an online retreat hosted by the Insight Meditation Society in the style of Sayadaw U Tejaniya. At the beginning of the retreat, one of the facilitators shared something that stuck with me: “For those of you in transition, I invite you to drop the question in, like a pebble into the water.”
The retreat facilitator acknowledged that these questions were likely to come up during the meditation sessions throughout the week. Instead of trying to “figure things out” in our heads or force an answer, we could instead “drop the question in” and observe what was coming up. Drop the question in, let the pebble go. Then take a step back and watch the ripples emanate in the water.
Transition brings with it uncertainty, often in one or more areas of our lives. In the words of Rilke, we carry questions that are unresolved in our hearts.
When we’re in transition, we simmer on these questions in the background. We could still be in our current role, starting to think about what’s next. We might be traveling or participating in an immersive experience that takes us out of our usual context. We might also be at home, adapting our routines to our transitional state. Whether we’re between meetings, in the sky or sea, doing the dishes in the sink, sifting soil between our fingers, or crossing the land beneath our feet, we carry with us questions about what’s next.
Like ripples of different diameters, some of these questions also have longer arcs. My coaching clients have taught me something I wish someone had told me years ago: some questions are addressed in different times–not necessarily to act upon in the transition immediately in front of them, but planting the seeds for the chapters to come. Zora Neale Hurston says it beautifully: “There are years that ask questions and years that answer.” In coaching, we practice the skill of identifying the questions and learn tools for listening for answers.
There are some questions you move through actively: hypotheses you test, experiments you run, and real-life data to gather to shape the next round of inquiry. There are also some questions whose answers you listen for over the years. You might catch glimpses of them once in awhile, perhaps in the sound of a bird chirping in the tree, a poem, a painting, a conversation with a friend, the melody of a song you hear. Sunlight briefly hits the mirror, illuminating it until it moves on again.
What questions are you dropping in? How are you watching for the ripples that form?