Writing with Rox WEEKLY—WHY ASK WHY?

Am I a bad mom for not getting Jude's warmer coat this morning when we stepped outside at 6:50 am and realized it was colder than yesterday and we had only enough time to walk to the bus stop?

We could drive? he said.
No we can't, I said.
Why not?

Will getting up at 6am ever get easier?

Will I always be tired no matter how early I go to bed when I have to get up at 6am?

Are things as hard as they seem? Remember the story about building bridges by hand, Jude? (That is hard; sitting down to do a page of math is not hard). Or is it?

Are things harder now then when they were for our elders?

Is first grade too young to be doing math homework or any homework? Does homework, like my friend who is a father aptly points out, rob a child his time to just be a child and be in childhood after a long day of work at school?

Is this why so many of us never stop working?

Or, like an old friend once asked, is childhood an institution?

Why are the brilliant ones of heart and mind so often unsung? Does that make most of us unsung?

Is everyone tired?

Have we lost our ability to slow down?

Why do I know so clearly what's "good" for everyone else but hazy when it comes to knowing what's good for me?

Why?
Why?
Why?

This morning, we started writing together by just writing down our questions. Whatever they were, about anything. There was quite a range; each one read like a poem, each telling a story, each begging a memoir.

Then we wrote again and answered any question (s) that held our energy . Or went deeper into our questions. There were all kinds of answers. Some came in the form of a memory or story or deeper questioning. One of us, completely surrendering to the song of the page, wrote how writing is the answer. I, to no one's surprise, ended up writing about Ma getting all dressed up and going out on the town when I was a kid and me never really knowing why she did that instead of staying home with me and my brother. Then I asked why I never said anything to her about that at the time. Have I asked her lately?

As writers, this is what we do. We ask, we figure it out. We answer what we can. Sometimes it takes many pages, sometimes just a few. Sometimes it takes our entire lives, sometimes just a few days. Maybe it's a memoir; maybe it's an essay.  Sometimes our asking presents another question or the answer. Sometimes the answer is an opening for another question. We never have to know, one of us writes this morning, that is the pleasure in asking.

Which of course takes us to another question.

Does that explain why as kids we always ask why?

What questions went unanswered and are unanswered still from when we were kids?

What does your little you still wonder?

What does the Fox Say?

What DO YOU WONDER? WHERE DOES THAT WONDERING TAKE YOU? YOU NEVER KNOW WHOSE QUESTION YOU ARE ANSWERING IN THE ASKING OR WHOSE LIFE YOU ARE REAWAKENING. As always, follow the energy! Surprise yourself... you never know where you'll go on the page!

Hope to write with you soon!  ROX