It’s the Questions We Ask that Change Us. No?

What could you possibly hope to accomplish by spending 90 minutes a week, online, with a group of disparate people from all over the world?

That was the question whirling around my head when I first joined The Friendship Bench some years ago now. I wasn’t asking it from a place of enthusiasm, as in wondering what all the benefits might be, more from doubt.

I had doubts about who’d be there, what they’d be like, what would we talk about. Especially how we’d talk about topics without descending into polarised shouting matches that depict so much of the discourse we see in our politics today.

Doubts about me too – would this Brit fit in on a Bench largely made up of Americans? What could I bring to the table? Will I be accepted? The usual imposter syndrome stuff.

It took me a few months to what I call “settle”. In other words, feel at ease seeing familiar faces each week. Especially those that belong to Dennis, Melissa, Mac, Craig, Phil, Colin, Shara, Ipek, Laura, Byron, Victor, Chris, Lesley, Carolyn, Amy, and Susan in those early days.

I started to feel a sense of anticipation as each Bench began. Not because I knew what we were about to discuss, but because I didn’t. I find the show-up-and-see-what-shows-up idea appealing. It’s like those conversations we have where we have no idea where it will end up, but it’s fun finding out, nonetheless.

I experienced the respect people had for one another. Folk would ask for another’s permission to be frank, before…well…speaking frankly. Ditto the way differences were handled when, inevitably, seeing things clearly got tricky at times and the occasional kerfuffle broke out.

I watched people listen to each other, deeply and soon found myself doing the same, as if by osmosis.

I didn’t feel that obligation we can all have sometimes to verbally contribute every week. Sometimes I don’t, sometimes I feel moved to speak. What’s reassuring about that is it doesn’t matter either way on The Bench. Your silence is respected and welcomed, not judged on The Bench. We’re present to what is, more than what ought to be. It’s being present that matters.

All in all, looking back, I settled into what felt like a home and still does.  And that’s when I stumbled across something that was both surprising and insightful.

As often happens when I settle in, and the doubts dwindle somewhat, I found myself thinking about what we discussed a lot. Not just while on The Bench, but long after each meeting ended too. I reached out to some folk, on a one-to-one basis, and we got talking. In two cases we entered into a long and thoughtful correspondence. Others reached out to me to get my take on specific topics too, much to my surprise.

You couldn’t call what we talked about flimsy or trite. We’d inquire into our individual experiences of hate, unsheltered people, love, trauma, abusive families, gender, consciousness, humanity at work, race, more vs. enough, redemption, religion, wokeness, chaos, death, and dying, among other topics. Each having ripple effects in the conversations I have with myself and those around me at work, and at home.

Such exchanges feel so natural and yet are rare in my experience. I began wondering why they’re so scarce. And as I did new insights began to stir in me. They brought these questions into sharper focus:

..We humans rarely change our lives by sticking to what we know, we do it by stepping into what’s unknown to us first. Don’t we?

..Could we find that step easier to make if we have a helpful question front of mind – one that offers breadth, depth, and the possibility of new answers?

..The answers we discover for ourselves – either in natural-if-rare conversations with that voice in our head, or loved ones, friends, colleagues and those who are equally curious in the circles we move in more widely in society – matter most because they change our sensemaking. No?

Questions that reflect my own journey on The Bench you could say. And feel insightful to me, by which I mean they appear in my head alongside a compelling feeling to act on them, to test them out, rather than just let them be fleeting ideas.

So, with this insight centre stage, and the usual imposter-syndrome doubts backstage, I’ve set up a new Substack called Helpful Questions Change Lives. My intention is to make it a home for curious inquirers keen to explore why they experience different aspects of their personal and professional lives as they do.

If that speaks to you or someone you know, a very warm welcome awaits RIGHT HERE.