Just a quick one
As I sat on the bench, on the cold
fall day, somebody walked up to me who would change me. For better or for
worse, I could not say, but they would give me something new to add to my
collection, my collection of questions that I kept in the safe of my mind.
They walked up, and sat down on the
bench. They were old, and had that look on their face that just made one know
that they were truly set in their ways. They had a child with them, no older
than seven or eight. The older one turned to me, and said a long, seemingly
drawn out “Hello.”
“Hello. How are you today?”
They laughed and said “Why, I’m doing
just fine thank you. And you?”
“Well, I’m doing fine as well.
Except…”
“Except what? What’s on your mind
young man?”
“Well, you see, I have this little
collection of mine. And-“
They cut me off abruptly with an “Ah,
it’s nice to see young people collecting things as well. You see, I collect
things as well. Though, mine is more of a mental collection than anything.”
“Mine is too! You see, I collect questions,
just find some and store them in my mind. I constantly think on them, trying to
find new answers. However, this one question has been troubling me, which is-“
“Bah, what good are questions? What
you need are some nice solid answers for those questions of yours, that’ll
solve your problem. You young people, always asking questions. Crazy, the lot
of you.”
“Well, you see, I’ll have to
disagree. Questions are just as important as answers, and maybe even more
important.”
“Well what makes you think that?”
“Well, you see, the right questions
never really die. They just evolve to the circumstance, because the right
questions either never have solid answers or have multiple answers which can
all be thought on.”
“Yes, but answers can evolve too.
Just change a few words, a little phrasing here and there, and bam! You’ve got
yourself the same answer, just changed a little, and it still fits.”
“But
is that really changing? Answers are set in their ways, they can’t truly change. And if they do, then is it the same
answer? Or is it just a new one, while the old one died?”
He
sat there, pondering that for a while. After this while, he looked up and said “But
what of your questions? They are nothing without answers, because without
answers they are just frustrating and serve no purpose.”
“No,
no, I agree that answers are important. But without questions, answers are
nothing as well. Questions breed answers, which in turn breed questions. But
which is more important? Which came first, the question or the answer?”
He
ignored my last point, and just jumped a little and said “Ah ha! So you do
collect answers.”
“Well,
yes. Without answers, I would never act. I can’t be agnostic on every aspect of
life, constantly questioning everything. I need to have some answer, but most
of them are just temporary answers. Answers need to be thrown away for new ones
every once in a while, while questions don’t.”
“But
what if the question is over? Like what if the question was something like ‘What
should I eat tonight’?”
“Those
aren’t the type of question I’m talking about. I mean questions like ‘What is
the purpose of me being here?’ and ‘Is there a god?’ I collect evolving
questions, the ones that last. And you haven’t answered my question, which came
first, the question or the answer?”
At
this point the child piped up, saying “You’re silly, we’re here to help people
and make people happy.”
“How
do you know that?” I asked inquisitively.
“Because
when people are sad it makes everything sad, but when people are happy
everything is better.”
I
smiled genuinely at the child’s innocence. “Yes, I understand that. But what if
that’s not my purpose, but yours? What if you need to make your own purpose?”
The
child looked at my wide eyed, then smiled. “I know what I want to be when I
grow up! I want to be a happy fairy, and make everybody happy.”
The
old person and I smiled, and then he looked at me. “The answer to your question
is the question. The question came first, not the answer.”
“Exactly.
Without questions, there wouldn’t be answers. But without answers, questions
would have no purpose. At this point, it’s just a question of opinion as to
which one is more important.”
He
stood up, and took the child’s hand. “Let’s go, and leave the nice man with his
questions.”
I
smiled and waved goodbye to them, hoping to have changed them.
He
turned around though, and yelled back “But I have a question for you to add to
your collection. If you collect questions, does it help you or hurt you?”
I
smiled, and silently added that question, along with the one I never got to
ask.
