Do things need to make sense to be meaningful? I don’t think so. This poem for self-inquiry is about not needing to know, about what it can be like to delve a little deeper into the questions without asking that they rearrange themselves into answers right away.

“When inquiry is alive inside you, every thought you think ends with a question mark, not a period. And that is the end of suffering.” — Byron Katie 

How can you live in between the lines? Communicate with the questions? Keep curiosity alive? Feel free?

Just the Questions, a Poem for (Compassionate) Self-Inquiry

You can’t understand it all;

Rhyme and reason escape a closed mind.

Curiosity is a mind in the process of

opening to the questions.

That is where we find rhythm—

not in the answers we think must be true but

in the softened edges of the questions themselves.

Shut to one thing because it’s

tethered to another is not

an opened mind.

Awakened inside of you,

inquiry takes the head and gives it

some heart;

it does the same for the heart, and

balance happens naturally.

It’s amending and a melting together of

all imbalances—an illumination of the

questions.

It’s as if we are made whole again,

remembered, because we

question the notion that we are

parts and pieces,

limbs and discernment.

Question everything and more rises.

Instead of certainty,

feed your heart inquiry.

Ask questions where you traditionally

keep to periods.

Instead of demands,

try desire, which holds its own quality.

The flower is beautiful in its own right,

but what is the fruit like?

Don’t stop with the obvious.

Go deeper. Go past definitions.

Dig into the sky.

Stay longer and uproot.

It’s okay to be confused.

Confusion is the perfect

playing ground for transformation.

The alchemy is in the evolution

from confusion to enlightenment.

To be okay with being confused,

dear heart,

is enlightenment.

Illuminate the questions,

wonder at what’s beyond what you know.

Discern and prefer, but

you are more and there is more

to melt into.

. . .

Tell me:

Which part of this poem is your favorite?

Tell me in the comments. I read every single one, and I’d love to know!

With love,

Jen

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