There is a question I’ve been pondering of late… and I thought I’d share it with you:
“What if this is not a problem?”
I've been drawn to problems for as long as I can remember.
Cultural problems. The problems of our world. And the personal problems people have.
I've observed them. Researched them. Written about them. Tried to understand them.
I even earned a PhD in a program where, rather than studying within a single discipline, you chose a central problem and learned to examine it through multiple fields of inquiry.
I've long been interested in what problems might reveal, where they might lead, and what else might become visible through them.
And lately, that inquiry has turned slightly.
I've become equally interested in what we designate a problem in the first place.
It would be silly to suggest that problems don't exist, if we only see them differently. Sometimes a problem is a problem. The pipe bursts. The car won't start. A bill is due tomorrow and you don't have the money to pay it.
Not everything requires a philosophical inquiry. Some things simply need attending to.
But other times, what we've called a problem may be something else entirely.
A decision still forming.
Something that belongs to somebody else.
A transition that may make more sense in hindsight.
A legitimate interval of grieving.
The inevitable uncertainty of being alive.
Or simply life refusing to observe our preferred timetable.
Which leads me back to that deceptively simple question:
Is it actually a problem?
Because we can move remarkably quickly from I don't like this or I don't know what to do about this to:
I have a problem.
And the minute something becomes a problem, we know what we're supposed to do with it:
SOLVE IT.
But if we turn and look again, we see that…
Something can be unwanted without being a problem.
Something can be difficult without being a problem.
Something can need our attention without being a problem.
Something can eventually require action without being a problem yet.
And sometimes, something is still in the process of revealing itself.
Imagine, for instance, you're trying to make a decision.
You've thought about it. Talked to people you trust. Researched. Waited for clarity.
And you still don't know.
At some point, almost imperceptibly, not knowing becomes the problem.
So you try harder to know.
More research. More advice. More analysis. Maybe a search for the sign that will finally tell you what to do.
But what if all that's actually happening is:
I don't know yet.
That doesn't mean there is nothing to do.
Sometimes a decision needs to be made. There may be a deadline. Other people may be affected. Waiting may itself have consequences.
But different realities call for different responses.
Grief may need to be grieved.
Uncertainty may ask for patience.
A transition may need to be lived through.
A decision may require discernment.
A boundary may need to be drawn.
And a problem may indeed need to be solved.
So before rooting too deeply in the land of:
How do I solve this?
There may be an earlier question worth asking:
What else might this be?
🗝️🌀
Love + Oneness,
Naomi
