I have a question. Actually, I have a lot of questions, and I have decided to ask them. To write them down and think about them. To that end, dear reader, I plan to pose a question each week in 2019 -- to myself, of course, but to you, as well, as I invite you to contemplate with me. Don't worry, there's no pressure. You may think quietly in the privacy of your own heart. I am not requiring answers nor am I expecting dialogue though, to be sure, I dearly love hearing from you and I'm sure I would be quite interested in your thoughts.
I have been writing my weekly letter for over six years now. I've written more than 300 entries. My goal in sharing my thoughts with you has always been to help you live with compassion for yourself and for others. That will not change. In fact, I think it's something we need more than ever. And, in fact again, that begs a good question: Why is it hard to be compassionate? I have so many questions. What is the function of depression? Why do we crave structure? Why do we cling to our beliefs even when they do not come from our direct experience?
My questions aren't all big, philosophical queries. Some are silly like, Why do I think paper clips are so amazing? Some are scientific like, Why does laughing make me feel so good? Some are confounding. Some painful. Some simple.
I have a lot of questions. I bet you do too. Come with me in 2019 and let's explore some 50 or so questions. Perhaps you'll have an answer to enlighten me, or maybe one that leads to even more questions. Perhaps I'll help you.
Join me in this deliberate detour for a year, and feel free to send me your questions if you like. What do you wonder about? What's worth examining as we go through the next 52 weeks, one week at a time? Like I said, it's perfectly fine if you don't want to send me any; I've got plenty of questions. Let me begin by leaving you with this one to ponder as you go through your week: How do you know who you are?
Maybe, after a year of asking questions, we'll have a good answer to this one and we'll be able to end at the beginning.