When something is bothering us, we don’t see it fresh. We see it through the lens of our past experiences — what we already believe about ourselves, about the other person, about how these things usually go. That’s confirmation bias, and it is running quietly most of the time, which is exactly why we don’t catch it.
And “why” feeds it. Why am I like this. Why does this keep happening. Why can’t I sleep. It feels like investigation that includes within it striving and judgment. Which is why it can make us either defensive or go down a spiral of rumination.
Notice where answers to “why” questions come from. They come from what you already believe about yourself and the situation, because that’s the only material a why-question has to work with. So you go around and around, and you end up more convinced of what you walked in with. Ask yourself why you can’t sleep and you will lie there generating reasons, wider awake than when you started.
Curiosity is what disrupts this, and what-questions are how we practice it. They widen your container of knowing by inviting in information and insight you would otherwise miss when you’re rushing and reacting. What is here. What is important. What is possible.
Now, why does have its place. When I want to get clear about something I already know like what is my why for this project? is a wonderful question to ask. But when you need new information about a situation, when you are looking for a perspective you don’t already have, that’s when asking what will widen your understanding.
One trap to watch for. Plenty of why-questions come dressed as what. What is wrong with me? What made me this way? Those still point at cause and blame. Here is a quick test: if the answer already exists somewhere in your head, it’s a why. If it requires you to go and look, it’s a what.
And if your question is pointed at the problem, turn it toward what you actually want. One of the practitioners in my class started with what can I do to not be so controlling — which keeps their attention on the controlling. Turned around, it became what can I do to be more at peace with what I can’t control. That one has somewhere to go. Other directions curiosity can take: What are my intentions for this relationship? What are my expectations for the other person and what if I let go of those? What are the consequences of my actions and inaction?
The question bank for clarity
We generated these together in class this week, and I’m sharing the whole list because the best question for you may not be the one you would have thought of. Mine certainly wasn’t. Borrow freely.
Return — what is actually here
What happened?
What am I seeing?
What is happening in my body?
What am I feeling?
When did I start feeling this?
What am I telling myself about this situation?
What are my automatic reactions?
Listen — what is underneath, and what am I missing
What do I need here?
What did I need at the time?
What am I not letting go of?
What assumptions am I making?
What might be going on for the other person — what do they know that I don’t?
What is their lived experience that I don’t know?
What are their needs in this situation?
What other explanation is possible?
What am I giving up in order to do this?
What are the consequences of my actions? Of other people’s actions?
What are the consequences of my inaction? Of other people’s inaction?
What is important here?
What are my intentions here?
What are my goals?
What am I protecting?
Begin — what now
What else is possible?
What is the both-and possibility here?
What can I do right now to get my needs met?
What can I offer to this situation?
What can I do differently in how I’m communicating?
What can I do to align my speech and actions with my intentions and values?
What can I do to be more at peace with what I can’t control?
What would self-compassion look like right now?
How to use them
Here is how we do it in class. Bring one situation to mind — a specific one, not your life in general — and write down every what-question you can think of about it. All of them, however stupid you think they are, without stopping to edit or judge. The list above is there to borrow from when you run dry.
Then read back through what you wrote and pick the one that speaks to you. You will know which one it is, and not because you decided in your head. You feel it in the body as a release, something letting go. That’s your question. Carry that one through your day — before a meeting, before you open the message you’ve been avoiding, before you say the thing.
And two I’d point you to, because they’re the ones people skip.
What am I giving up in order to do this? That question stops me now when I feel the pull to jump into something exciting that isn’t mine to solve.
And what are the consequences of my inaction? Action announces itself — we weigh it, we second-guess it, we feel its cost. Inaction is quiet. The conversation not had, the boundary not drawn, the thing not said to the doctor. Nothing happens, so it registers as nothing. It isn’t nothing. It’s just invisible.
Not every question wants an answer today. Some are the kind you live with.
Return. Listen. Begin. Stay Sama. 🪷
A note on access
Today’s session was open to all.
Daily Sama runs every day — one skill, one micro-practice, brought into an ordinary day. This week is Curiosity. In the previous two weeks we covered Awareness and Compassion. Next we will practice and play with Energy.
If you’d like to join regularly and have all the micro-practices and the recordings, a paid subscription is what makes that possible. My commitment is to keep this accessible to everyone, and it’s subscriber support that lets me keep offering it across the different channels.
And if cost is the thing in your way — send me a message and I’ll give you free access. No conditions, no explanation needed. I would rather you practice.
Return. Listen. Begin. Stay Sama. 🪷
PS: I discovered later that my audio wasn't working so I added a video from an earlier recording.
