What Questions Are All About

When in the presence of somebody on stage I understand I am to listen. They come with knowledge or stories, and I come empty, a clean slate, ready to absorb like a sponge. I'm impressionable, fragile to the formalities of a grand room and comfortable dropping into reverence. As a way of listening, I write: quotes, questions, notes, things to google later; I learned in high school that it helps me stay engaged. Sometimes, I read back through what I've written, and there's a gap. Or, other times I know the speaker's work so well their work is a voice in my head. When I pose questions to that voice, a reply comes, but I can't trust its loyalty to the original source. In their presence, I have the opportunity to ask. My internal furnace heats up, every molecule moving faster, energized. Excited. My hand shoots up, I make eye contact with the microphone deliverer or the person themselves. Attention, whether amplified to a larger audience or a feeling of many eyes, makes my voice shake. Out of me pours the question, not typically rehearsed, but thankfully, surprisingly cohesive. The wave crashes, and we (the audience) study the specimen on stage, their saintdom intact but somehow more approachable, that fourth wall breached. White seafoam fizzes and the water runs thin over a large expanse of beach, wetting new territory, smoothing over sand. Sandcrabs burrow deep, the moisture opening up what was previously compact. Where they go, I don't know, but as the water recedes, and the speaker collects their voice, the answer comes. They speak to me, and now we are in conversation. There's this beam of energy between my seat and theirs, the futile spiderweb of expressing an idea that has been thrown up in the room gets stronger along certain paths. It's like we both dove deep and together examined some underwater curiosity, them as a guide pointing out a shape or color I didn't see before. Sound travels certainly underwater, the increased density of material between the listener and the speaker accelerates the deposit of understanding. I see it. Kicking to the surface, I relax, a smile on my face in appreciation for their time and attention. Bursting the thin boundary between the water and sky I notice the details of the room, the bustling city, the world, that exist outside of the question. The question lives in community with problem, but for a moment we got to just experience the question, and interrogate it. This pattern continues, each interaction like a new set of waves ready for me to dive beneath the surface to inquire.