|Art by Lynda Barry.|
"How is a thought like an iceberg?" Ponder, contemplate, consider, weigh, think. Good thing I'm not a zealot for quantifying. I don't want to know how much of any day I spend asking myself rhetorical questions, posing conundrums, seeking answers where perhaps none exist. It is not time wasted, however. If we don't wonder about things, we are marooned. Mulling gives us bearings or at least tells us where we are not.
"My apologies to great questions for small answers." From her poem "Under One Small Star" by Wislawa Szymborska.
|Painting by Quint Buchholz.|
To mull is not to deconstruct (shudder). If I arrive at any truths, ever, it is by widening the screen, not narrowing my focus. It seems to be a process of allowing rather than intention, clearing space on a shelf then leaving the room to see what comes to settle in the empty spot. Mulling, contemplation generally, is similar to my approach to writing fiction. I stand at the curb waiting for a car to pull up, then watch to see who gets out.
Rilke told us to love and to live the questions. Do not forget that being comfortable with not knowing isn't the same as not asking.