…Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves…”(R.M.Rilke)
I go through the world with a question that is always on: a question for Infinity, a question for Life. I have always preferred questions to answers, in which I cannot abide long except to make the necessary steps to my inexhaustible search.
I don't know if you've ever wondered deeply, for example about the meaning of a meeting, an event, an idea ... and someone comes up with an explanation, with an answer. As enlightening and satisfying as it may be, after a while you feel that it 'tightens' you, it is as if it wanted to compress, tame and in some way 'liquidate' your question.
No book of wisdom, no guru or enlightened master perhaps will ever give us the definitive answer, the one that once and for all exhausts our existential thirst. That's why, as Rilke says, we need to know how to love questions, to live patiently, affectionately in their company and with the discomfort that sometimes they raise. It is precisely this subtle restlessness that, once it has become a flame, will burn the chains of habit, wiping out the grey of apathy or the emptiness of the useless frenzy.
It is the questions, rather than the answers, that are capable of breathing and opening glimpses of Infinity. Answers tend to 'age', especially those that have not been lived, not experienced, that have not yet resonated in our bones and flowed into our blood.
I love, therefore, the unresolved - and perhaps unresolvable - restlessness of certain questions, because they keep me in my favourite role: the one of the student. I conclude with the last words of Gertrude Stein who, shortly before dying, asked: "What is the answer?" There was no answer. She laughed and said, "In that case, what is the question?" Then she died.
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