Lately, I’ve been trying something new when I journal. Instead of trying to confess or make sense of my life, I’ve been journaling from a place of not knowing, of wonder, of questions.

Pages and pages of questions now fill the pages of my journal. The truth is I do not have many answers and to pretend that I do feels like a lot of pressure. So I started simply wondering…

What would it mean to open to more pleasure?

What would I be willing to give up so that others had more?

What might feel different in my body if I moved in this way?

How would a ritual in the morning feel as a way to more intentionally begin my day?

What would it mean to rewild ourselves?

What does it mean to slow down? Who has the privilege of slowing down?

On and on, tumbling deeper through questions.

Sometimes I find all these questions start leading me to very interesting places where feelings and fears begin to emerge. Other times the questions are simple curiosities that instead of becoming a goal or a To Do, get to stay an invitation.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes when I journal little expectations and stories creep in. The page becomes a place where I’m lecturing myself about the things I should be doing differently, things I should try, ways I should be, what I should know about myself.

As I open to the uncertainty that is this body, this life, our future, I find I’m more interested in questions, possibility, and exploring all of that enormous potential. And so now my pages are filled with question marks.

What if?
How would it feel…?
When might we…?
Could I?
Would we?
What might that…?
Perhaps…?

It reminds me of that Rilke quote: “Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”

This is one small way that I’m finding pleasure in small things, in simplicity, and offering myself new ways of relating to old habits and practices.

What questions are ready to be asked? Where might they lead you?

And what if you don’t need to know, but instead, simply to ask?