A short while ago, two Seekers brought me a conifer branch they wished me to identify for them. If I did so, they would have their answer and likely be content, learning little about neither the tree nor the learning process. So I turned the question back to them, along with some guidance as to where to find their answers.
I discouraged their use of field guides, as books can give answers almost as quickly as I can. Instead, I encouraged them to ask the plant who she is — why she is growing where she is, who her neighbors are, why she is structured the way she is in consideration of her neighborhood. Then I suggested they flow into the plant so they can feel thirst and sun and wind as does the plant.
A person’s potential to learn is more important to me than what he already knows. I gain a feel for that potential by the questions he asks rather than the answers he gives. His questions give me insight into how his mind works, his perspective, and his potential adaptability.
Questions unfold your future; answers reflect your past. So your growth would benefit more from an insightful question than a knowledgeable answer. Both your time and that of your guide would be better spent questing the unknown than restating the past.
I do not give the Seekers whom I guide, tests in the standard sense. I give them challenges and scenarios that stimulate them to ask themselves the questions that will lead to the knowledge they need. This is seldom the knowledge they seek, for they are looking into the unknown—their own future, and know not what they will find. One thing they do find with this approach is that their life with Mother Earth unfolds as a series of questions, one blossoming into another, rather than graspable answers, as they had been taught in school.
Questions reflect flow, answers are concrete. Questions stimulate, answers state. Questions travel, they carry you like the flow of a stream; answers sit, they hold you as would a weighty stone upon your back. An insightful question reflects depth; a knowledgeable answer displays storage.
An answer feeds you; a question teaches you how to find food. A question honors your time, your ways; an answer asks that you adapt to its time and ways. An answer shows you a facet of the crystal; a question takes you inside the crystal, where you are bathed in a kaleidoscopic rainbow of its faceted light.
The root of the word ‘question’ is quest. Quest!