At what point in our lives do we stop asking why?

Since I was a little girl, I asked questions about everything. I wanted to know why, how, when, who, you name it…I was always looking for answers.

The problem lies in that there is no question that has one absolute answer.

Socrates, the most interesting and influential thinker in the fifth century, knew this. He never stopped asking questions. He would hassle a person with a reputation for having some knowledge, and he would talk to them until they realized they had no clue what they were discussing anymore.

In looking for an explanation, where we come from, where we are going, what we are supposed to do in life, many rely on God. If you think about it, we ask God questions that as it seems, no one else can answer.

Even now, as a seemingly functional adult, all I can think of is “why”.

I have always been a kind of seeker. I am truly fascinated by concepts such as space and time and the universe. I am eager to learn more about the world, about God. Naturally, I gravitate toward people that can stir up an interesting conversation. I can do the whole who-is-getting-married bit just fine, or talk about the latest gossip. But at the end of the day, I need stimulation. Challenge me. Make me think. Don’t just settle for who you think I am because most of the time when people claim they know me — they don’t. I actually laugh at the hear of it. Through writing, I have discovered I am much more complex than I can possibly describe here. I don’t know what goes on in my mind sometimes.

Back to my original dilemma. The problem lies in that I have a thirst for knowledge, and for some reason the land out there is dry and weary.

Often I think my soul is too ancient for this life. Like I am a pointless 200-year-old alien trapped in the body of a young woman and nobody can speak my language. According to my friends and my family, I’m very mature. According to me, I’m so lost in my maturity to the extent that nothing surprises me anymore. I’ve been through so many things that have molded me into who I am today, that when a bad thing happens to someone else, I’ll say, “Yeah, so?” I come off as cold and calculated and logical, and lately, I’ve been wondering if I’ve just lost my ability to give things its due consideration.

Oh, and I obsessively relate to Calvin and his imaginary tiger friend, Hobbes.

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Copyright © 2014 Elisa Marie Hopkins. All rights reserved.


3 thoughts on “At what point in our lives do we stop asking why?

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