Maybe Not Everything Needs an Answer

Five ways to quiet your questioning mind.

Your name is Lisa.

Your name is Steve.

Your name is Rick Sanchez from Earth dimension C-137, genius scientist and alcoholic grandfather.

You’re a gardener with shares in Boots Pharmacy. You’re a nursery teacher, you have been for twelve years now, and you haven’t been able to open a jar of beetroot once in your whole life. You’re unemployed and lonely, a little sad even, but every Tuesday around 4pm when your brother gets home all of that fades away because you’re not alone, you’re not unhappy, not when it’s Call of Duty night. You’re sixteen. You’re ninety-one. You’re undefined by age, refusing to accept a numerical label to dictate how you supposedly should or should not act. You’re from Texas. You’re from Tokyo. You’re from that northern section of England recently voted the city of culture, although you’re convinced it’s all fake, because your uncle does not look like the same bloke he was yesterday and it’s been really sunny recently, which is a little unsettling for the UK. You very well might be the protagonist in your own version of The Truman Show.

The point is — you could be anybody. Doing anything. From anywhere in this universe (or series of others existing outside of it). It doesn’t matter who you are or where you’re from or what you do, because the chances are that at some point, somewhere along your lifeline, you’ve all encountered a question that you simply cannot answer.

• “What is the meaning of life?”
• “Why are we here?”
• “Why can’t humans fly?”
• “How did time begin?”
• “Why won’t he love me?”
• “How do I make this last chunk of Cadbury’s Whole Nut regenerate in my chocolate-stained palm so that I never have to face the crushing weight of knowing that this is the final piece?”

And it’s likely that most of these questions were met with the answer; I don’t know (often rephrased as “it just is” or “that’s just how it works” or “just because”. It appears as though the word just has a lot of explaining to do).

But they’re not answers. Nor are they excuses. Nor do they serve any tangible purpose. They are merely placeholders, filling a gap that we have been conditioned to believe always has to be filled.

But. Well. I mean. It can’t. Not always. Some answers are just slightly too far out of our reach, destined to be found at a later date, but not in our lifetimes. Or maybe they don’t exist at all. Maybe some questions exist only to serve as an itch. You know, to remind us that something else is going on out there, along the surface of our skin and the fabric of outer space. It’s just that some itches we cannot scratch (like chicken pox. Or that one you get right in the sole of your foot but it’s just too damn tickly to successfully endure, you know?).

So how on this sweet and savoury Earth do we subdue that unending desire, that nagging need for an answer? How do we manage it? How do we soothe it? How do we make it go away?

Is there a cream for that?

The Remedies to Your Existential Eczema

It’s like that age old saying, that timeless phrase, that scientifically proven assertion; when in doubt, try five varying methods in order to increase your chances of figuring it out.

The incessant questioning? Don’t let it bully your brain. Square up to it. Stare it down. Insult its mom. Clearly this overthinking is immortal because no matter what you do it just will not cease, so surround your mind with garlic, inhale so much biscuit spread that your veins are no longer blood but Biscoff, then uninvite that brothersucker from your skull.

Try one of these five things:

Name and Shame

If you can’t find a damn answer, if history nor science nor Google can help you unearth one then really, it’s simple.

Make your own answer up.

Call it Emery. Give Emery a backstory (troubled childhood followed by an alien invasion and now she works in hotel hospitality. Shudder). And every time you find yourself struggling for a solution or a response or something tangible, something real that can fill this pulsating hole — just tell yourself it’s an Emery.

Biscuits, Biscuits Everywhere

Remind yourself that questions are endless, there are an infinite number of them, meaning an infinite amount of those we cannot answer. Just when you think you have finally resolved one, another materialises. Kind of like doing laundry. You’re never done (until, of course, you’re done done. Unless Satan subjects you to an eternity of scrubbing away at his fiery red hot pants as punishment for that time you lobbed your McDonald’s wrappers out the car window).

So just remember; it’s turtles all the way down. Or as I like to put it; it’s biscuits in every aisle.

Beneath one question, there will always be another. Why? Because questions are limitless. Why? Because there’s always something else to be discovered. Why? Because we don’t know even a fraction of what there is to know. Why? Becau — oh.

Don’t let yourself spiral alongside them.

Accept That You’re Wrong

Maybe some things don’t have to make sense.

Maybe nothing does.

Maybe you have no purpose, maybe you’re not going to fall in love, maybe you’ll never find happiness. Maybe you won’t ever perfect the cello despite how hard you try. Maybe you’ll never figure out how to become braver or kinder or stronger. Maybe you’re not destined to be who you want to be. Maybe thinking positively and altering your mindset doesn’t actually lead to a better life. Maybe taking care of your body doesn’t actually help you live. Maybe the things we dream at night really are much more than a projection of our subconscious, instead being this internal portal to an entirely parallel but equally as real universe. Or maybe they’re just a side-effect of the 300g of Stilton you ate directly out the packet at 4am this morning. Maybe nothing we do is real and nothing we know is correct.

Or maybe it is.

We’ll never know unless we try.

The point is: all we can do is what we can, with what we have, from right where we are (big fan of that quote. Not enough of a fan to remember exactly where it is derived from, but definitely an intermediate fan. Like, I wouldn’t pay for a meet-and-greet, but I’d definitely arrive slightly early to get to the front of the queue before the show. That kind of fan. You feel me?).

Because maybe all those maybe’s are the outcome. Or maybe they’re not. Perhaps they’ll happen, perhaps they won’t, perhaps there’s another option entirely, that the human mind just doesn’t have access to right now. But regardless, we’ll never know until we know. And even then, we might not truly know, because these answers we unearth have a tendency to fit the frame of reference we are currently in. They suit the set of variables they are measured against. They are appropriate for the moment, but in years to come, they might not necessarily apply.

The year is 1964. Scientist Erwin Schrodinger is laying out cat food in his kitchen, a little on edge though, because he hasn’t seen him sauntering about the house for a while. There’s a mysterious looking box in the corner of the room with a Geiger counter attached. Probably unrelated. Anyway. He picks up the newspaper having recently finished the last few chapters of his thesis regarding his latest depiction of the atomic model. There’s a headline, stark and bold and completely unfamiliar. Erwin frowns in confusion. “What the f is a quark?”

We once thought the atom was the smallest thing. And then (in the profound words of beloved singer/song-writer Phoebe Buffay) we “split it open, and this like, whole mess of crap came out”. We were wrong. Crammed inside were these tinier things named quarks, thus rendering our initial answer redundant.

That’s the thing; answers might exist for everything. And they all might be wrong. Or they might not exist at all. Maybe not yet, not in our lifetimes, not ever. Not just undiscovered, but unreal. Maybe everything we think we know, we just don’t.

Live in the Moment and Question the Rest

I don’t think we will ever truly be sure of anything — but who says we need to be? Why do we need answers? (I realise the irony in that being posed as a question). Isn’t the notion, that question-answer partnership something that we, as humans, designed anyway? Life is about exploring our curiosities, expanding our knowledge and embracing new experiences, all of which are carried out by questioning everything. And I think it’s the act of asking, the process of investigating, the journey of the discovery that matters the most. Not the outcome. Not the end result. Not the answer.

And I think we all know that, deep down, too. Because that’s how we live our lives, we work with what we have. Because that is all that we have; the here and now. We’ve been doing it all this time.

Until the day arrives in which everything is proven wrong, we make the most of it. It’s our choice to accept what we cannot control and live in the present moment. Even elephants are doing that. They’re eating when they’re hungry, sleeping when they’re tired, focusing on surviving the hour. Even your regal white oak desk is existing in the now. It’s stood, stable and solid and supporting your things, right here in this room. It might have only been built yesterday, it might collapse this time tomorrow. But for now, it remains. Right now, it is happening.

Do you see?

Even the universe, and all its constituent bits and bobs and biscuits, is out there existing right now. Even the parts we don’t know of yet. Things that have already occurred we know of only through the lens of our lives — our perceptions of reality are what define it for us. And the future? Think about it in terms of the present. You don’t know what tomorrow will bring, so do what you can, here, today, to make tomorrow a good one. We have to find that balance between letting our curiosity soar through space, questioning everything, but also accepting that we just might never know.

And then? Then we move on.

Keep on Questioning

The very best way to stop questioning is to keep questioning. But with intention. With purpose. With care.

Be thoughtful in where your mind roams. Be aware. Remember that Emery’s got your back. Affirm with yourself that you are okay with not having the answers, but never stop seeking them out anyway. As long as you know that there is a difference between questioning with curiosity and questioning with distress. Explore the planet because you want to expand your horizons, stretch out your skies, thicken your atmospheres. Don’t do it because you’re afraid of what’s out there, but because you’re ready to put yourself out there, too.

If you can’t resist the temptation of questioning everything, if it’s calling out to you like your delicate little grandma beckoning you downstairs for a fresh batch of chocolate chip scones, then at least ask yourself this; will it contribute to the bettering (or buttering) of your life? Don’t spend all your time Googling why. Look into how it can help you, how it can improve you, how it can enhance you.

And if it can’t, sack it off. Accept that it’s a waste of time (we’re big on reducing waste here in 2020, am I right?) and spend it elsewhere, on something greater. Like a Segway. So use your quenergy (question energy. You’re welcome) resourcefully. Beginning first with what matters most:

What can I do today that will make me the very happiest I can be?

(And does it involve snacks?)

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