“Why” is my favorite word when I deal with my love for Science and mathematics. “Why” opens many new ways to reach a conclusion for the final answer; “Why” makes me think of another magical word “How” and together they help me to cross every boundary that my knowledge drew for itself.
But “Why” is my least favorite word when it’s about life because most of the times my search for perfect answer limits my own question, as if the world is all of a sudden a wonderland and we’re too ignorant to accept the specifics.
Sometimes the answers in life are like those puzzles without a solution. Sometimes the analysis makes truth suffer so brutally that it escapes far. Sometimes the answer lies in us and that introspection is a lonely journey that we constantly avoid. Sometimes the answer is deep inside our patience to accept the unsolved question in our heart. Sometimes the answer is just in living in the question. Sometimes answers exist because nobody has proved that they don’t exist.
Sometimes we search for answers everywhere, except inside our life, because the perfect answer may not be the one that the world gives us. We create our perfect answer, in our way, the way we like to accept the world, the way we call it perfect knowing that nothing is perfect, the world is still not perfect, we’re not perfect.
The path to connect all dots to reach the “Why”, in real life, is dull, ordinary, and unimpressive.
For a few years now, I set one answer to a few unresolved “Why”s I came across; I don’t know if the answer came from suffering, introspection or acceptance of reality; “I don’t want to know” is my answer to myself when the words are vividly, regressively ignorant about correct answers, when living in questions is more peaceful progress.
Why is someone’s merit treated differently? Because of her gender?
Why do some women talk nasty about other women all the time?
Why don’t we still look at kindness and intelligence while judging someone’s beauty?
Why do we celebrate narcissism by hash-tagging the word “selfie” every single day?
Why don’t we switch off TV and cell phones at the dinner table to enjoy family time?
Why do some people spend time in pointing fingers at others, without reflecting their own flaws?
Why don’t I see love and smell warmth in words when I receive an email instead of a handwritten letter?
Too many wandering questions that look like failures, because answers to them are without crispy clarity of the reality. We’ll never have perfect answers for any of them.
There are times when we live in questions, we pause on a sunny day and ponder “Why me?”; “Why did that happen to me?”: then the questions collide with each other every time we open our door. We do all our research, we taste our past, test our present and long for a wintry future to unfold the answers.
Sometimes not knowing answers brings happiness, sometimes meandering around questions gives us joy.
At the end, choice is ours; either we can continue living in questions or we can find a simple answer to stop the search for now; life is pretty wide and full of wonders; sometimes only curiosity keeps us alive. There will be more questions, always. There will be less answers, because every heart has its reasons that reasons do not know.