J is for jijnasu

Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known. -Carl Sagan

In 2008, I want to be a jijnasu, a seeker of wisdom, an inquirer.

When I was preparing to talk with Billy Collins the other day (doesn’t that sound casual?), Mr Brilliant was holding the paper bag while I hyperventilated, metaphorically speaking, helping me think about what questions I wanted to ask the dear poet of my dreams.

“Ask him what his favorite word is,” he said, excitedly. Mr Brilliant is a great cataloguer of such information.

I blinked at him.

Tess ran by. “Tess!” he shouted as she sped by. “What’s your favorite word?”

“WHY!” she yelled without stopping, making a tiny circular path from living room to family room to dining room and back. Just as Mr Brilliant started to answer her, she shouted again: “WHY IS MY FAVORITE WORD!”

He beamed.

“What a fantastic favorite word,” he murmured, contentedly. “You should tell Billy Collins that ‘why’ is your four-year-old’s favorite word.”

I blinked at him.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll do that right after I pass out when he answers the phone.”

I actually married Mr Brilliant because he was really the only person who asked in detail about the time I sailed around the world, who sat through a slide show and asked questions about life in the ten countries I visited. Well, maybe there were other reasons too, like the way he chopped up that red pepper and onion into tiny, tiny squares the first time he cooked dinner for me in his apartment on Mintwood Place.

But the fact that he is curious was a big part of the attraction. And there were those black cowboy boots, white starched shirts, and black levis, but I digress.

We are so schooled in cool disinterest—I can see the time lapse lifeline from exuberance to cool disinterest in my own household, from four-year-old to fifteen-year-old. As we get older, if we express curiosity and wonder and amazement, does it imply not-knowing? Is it uncool to get excited? Does it make us vulnerable?

We need to be more flat out curious. Sagan was right—something incredible is waiting to be known. But it’s hard in our modern “I’m connected” world. Information arrogance is a pandemic: “I just climbed Mt Everest backwards and barefooted.” “Really? Well Seth Godin mentioned the friend of a friend of a neighbor of my parent’s first grade teacher on his blog. Did you try this hummus?”

Have you ever noticed that people don’t ask questions? Or if they ask one question, there’s no follow-up question? Of if they ask questions, it is for utility’s sake (I need to know this for my job) and not for wisdom’s sake (knowing this won’t get me a pay raise, but will make my live richer or build relationship or change how I see the world or give this person in front of me the chance to tell their story). The Bhagavad Gita tells us that the jijnasu is blessed with the chance to work without expecting the fruit of activity. There is no end but the knowing itself. The knowing is enough—actually, the journey to knowing is enough.

There is a whole world out there, and right beside you. Ask about it.

Intentions: In 2008, I will follow lines of curiosity and inquiry without regard to outcome, not for the sake of “sale-ability,” but simply for the sake of deeper knowing, and for the sake of deeper listening.

From the last alphabet challenge: J is for jump