I have too many questions and no answers; that’s what life is about. I remember sitting in elementary school in the fifth grade, quietly raising my hand hoping that I would get called on, because I knew I had the right answer. It was devasting when Mrs. Gumbs called on someone else, because I knew my answer was correct. Time passed by, but my passion to speak the right answer never disappeared. I sat in 8th grade English class with my hand held high waiting to express my favorite beat poet’s name:Lawrence Ferlinghetti. I can feel the stiffness in my arm from waiting, and I’m not longer 13, I’m 37.

My worth isn’t predicated on whether I know the right answer, but I believed it was at the time.

When my hand stopped flying up in high school, it was hard. When my confidence dropped, it was difficult. I wasn’t mastering pre-calculus and I couldn’t raise my hand anymore with confidence. I had more questions than answers and my feet were what I was looking at more than the teacher’s gaze.

In college my heart pounded when I raised my hand, even if I was certain my answer was correct. I was nervous and sought the validation of the other students around me, but more importantly I wanted to impress the professor at the head of the lecture hall.

Now that I’m 37, the opportunities to raise my hand are few and far between. I want to give my feedback, to be correct, to know something, but there isn’t anyone’s gaze to meet, or professional to impress.

In order to answer those questions, I have to find people out in the world to help me. But there are so many people out there. How do I know who to trust? The answer is inside myself like it’s always been. That’s why I’ve been raising my hand all these years.

questions or decision making concept

questions or decision making concept