Reflecting on Why I Rarely Question 

Recently, a friend told me he has always “questioned” things. Obviously, that is a trait leading directly to intelligence, and likely the reason he was always in advanced classes in school.

Only when he said that, did I realize I have never been one to question.  Oh, I wonder a lot, yet, never question rules, laws, or theories already in place.
It’s true.
I simply accept.

Realizing I rarely question made me wonder:
Why don’t I question more?
I was initially inclined to go all Freudian, and blame my mother. She really did forbid me to ask “why?”  However, that was limited only to those occasions when I had asked permission to do something, and the answer was “no.”
I might have asked “Why?” once in my life, at which time, Mom made it perfectly clear I was to never-ever ask her “Why?”  (Anyway, the answer was inevitably:  “Because I said so!”)
However, if I did press too much, Mom would ask me, “Can’t you take no for an answer?”  
That rhetorical question guided me, not-so-subtly to the understanding it would definitely be in my best interest to just take no for an answer.  So, there went my career in used car – or any other kind of sales.
Yet, clearly, I cannot blame Mom.  It’s not as if she had forbidden me to ask, “Why is the sky blue?”
Therefore, I am left to wonder (but, not question) whether it is simply a lack of inquisitiveness on my part.  One would think a writer would question everything.  Not this one.
I wonder, and primarily, I reflect. I would add, I am also largely introspective.
While wondering, reflecting and introspection are key characteristics for a writer, I’m going to rationalize here, and postulate that questioning is more of a scientist thing.
Based on that hypothesis (look at me, doing sciencespeak!),  we all should be grateful I was born in the 20th Century, and not a minute before.
One can only imagine the primitive state of the world, had discovery, inventions, and innovations been left to the likes of me:
  • The world globe would be just a placemat:  “They say the world is flat.  Okay.  I wonder how they know that… Oh well, I sure hope I don’t sail over the edge before I finish writing this poem.”
  • There would be no wheel:  Me pushing a square boulder out of the way:  “I wonder how this could be easier. Maan, these corners sure do get in the way!”
  • No fire:  “I sure am cold.  I wonder what these wood sticks with the red tips do… I guess I’ll never know.  Mom said not to play with matches, and I can’t ask why. Besides, if I discover fire, I may burn the whole darn cave down.”
There it is.
My reflection on a conversation of wondering why I rarely question things that appear to already have answers.
Any questions?
Okay.
Just wondered.
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About nancsue

Writer - Former newspaper columnist - lover of all things nostalgic, collies, music, humor, snowy places, & grateful to those who defend American citizens at home and abroad.
Image | This entry was posted in Humor, Writing and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Reflecting on Why I Rarely Question 

  1. Dudley says:

    I had no idea I was so inspirational! I enjoyed your article. (And I don’t have to wonder why you wrote it.)

  2. Denny Kinnaman says:

    I enjoyed your blog, always insightful with humor! Please continue to keep up the good work.

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