Ask Dumb Questions
My current juicy question – What would it be like to make a ten fold increase in my contribution and fulfillment in the world? – recently took me to Phoenix, Arizona to participate in Lift Off, a retreat for entrepreneurs who want to take their creative business to the next level.
Ideas are not my shortcoming. I needed help getting them launched. Masterfully guided by Pam Slim and Charlie Gilkey, Lift Off promised the structure I was looking for with a group of people to learn and play with who are doing cool work. Four days later – ka ching! – and then some.
As much as I enjoy and thrive in group learning environments, I still suffer from occasional pangs of self-doubt. I had an early eek-squeak-freak moment when the contact list of participants arrived and I was the only one who didn’t use Twitter. Truthfully, I really didn’t get this tweeting business. Seemed like another distraction to me and I already had enough of those. Bowing to self-imposed peer pressure – from peers I hadn’t even met yet – I got a Twitter account before leaving for Phoenix.
As I looked around at the group the first night I had the sinking realization that I was the oldest person there. This was new territory. A territory that offered fertile ground to practice what I teach – love my own path and ask lots of “dumb questions.”
“Dumb questions” are anything we’re afraid to ask for fear of looking uncool, out of touch, unskilled, old, young, or, well, dumb. The question only feels dumb to the person asking it. Frequently, it’s the question others are sitting on and afraid to ask. It can be the question that opens your mind to a new idea, a deeper sense of understanding, or the chance to create connection among diverse perspectives.
One of my major goals at Lift Off was to learn how technology could enhance the next level of my work. A veritable gold mine for dumb questions. The surprise was the freedom that came from asking and the treasure received when I did. I came away with new allies and pages filled with resources.
When we have the guts to ask, we are all the better for it. Your willingness to ask and be open and honest about your needs invites me to contribute my wisdom, perspective, ideas, and experience. It becomes a playground of joyous co-creation; a vibrant learning lab of smart, talented and funny people who are as generous with their ideas as they are rich in creativity.
To paraphrase the Borg: comparison is futile. Not only does it suck the joy and life out of learning together, it blocks us from appreciating the great work of others and thereby feeding the greater good we all serve. We were each in different places in our businesses and needed different things. The reciprocity was a ton o’ fun as I gave freely from my experience while learning from others.
As we were wrapping up the final session of the workshop, I heard a voice (that turned out to be mine) say to the group: “I want to learn to tweet before I leave here.” Within minutes, eager volunteers had me on line and set up. My earlier eek-squeak-freak moment was forgotten in the delight of receiving what Jill and April were so happy to give.
When we have arrived at the question, the answer is already near. –Ralph Waldo Emerson
There is one dumb question you can ask. It’s any question you already know the answer to. The reason you’re asking it is to posture yourself as smarter, better, or hipper than someone else. No one is served by that.
PRACTICE
Ask some dumb questions this week — questions you don’t know the answer to, that you’re afraid to ask.
Ask open ended questions – avoid those with a yes or no answer.
When you meet someone new, ask different questions than you would normally ask. Avoid the common: “So, what do you do?” Experiment with questions that evoke the heart of what people care about and what brings them joy.
I’d love to hear about your results.
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I am a speaker, teacher, writer, and artist working at the convergence of self-care, spirituality, and self-expression.
A Creative Conspirator - an inciter of whatever makes you come alive, an excavator of buried gifts and talents, a fresh breeze that fans the smoldering embers of abandoned creativity. Read More>
Your wisdom was a gift to every one of us!
Thanks, Jill!