I am stubborn. I need logic, reason, and justification. I need to know, so I always ask that special little word. So minuscule – with only three letters, yet they bare the weight of everything. This interrogative serves as a guide for how I move through conversations. The world is so filled with wonder but I must upturn every stone to see for myself the dark, gritty mud that becomes animated with the anxious and writhing bodies of maggots and worms. My tool in this project, the most intimate adverb, interjection, conjunction, or noun. 

In the grammatical world, it is completely unsure of itself. Oblivious, it swings between vowel and consonant. Yet, in conversation it brings fourth a deepened conclusion. If you would like to perform an exercise in psychology – try the lens “why” on for size. This practice can be held in any setting – whether you interfacing with a stranger, or an individual who you believe has given you a window into their inner world. I am just a blogger so it is just a simple task. Ask the “Why?”

“Why” is a door – would you like to open it? Behind the door, there are things that you may not want to see. A sharpened scalpel, this is a dangerous tool for some. You must first prepare yourself for the imminent surgery in conversation or thought. This procedure begins with a cautious cut. “Why?” A deep slit in the skin. Often times you will find that below the incision, more skin remains. “Why” has learned to hide itself extremely well. “Why” wears many masks, some are even robed in seemingly real “why” costumes. However, beneath all of it’s coverings, you will be able to peel back the flesh to reveal a delicate and pulsating bulb. For some, the surgery will exhibit an abundance of “why” organs, floating in space, filling the entirety of the cavern with an undulating mass of glowing pink. For others, the flap shall divulge a singular spec. Heed my warning, your findings may disappoint you.

In a extremely dark conversation I had at a party this week, an acquaintance was discussing the years in which she was coming of age, and specifically, her relationship with her father during this period. I used my tool as a sculptor would. In the words of Michelangelo, “Every block of stone has a statue inside it”. As I continued to ask my newfound friend, “Why?”, She revealed that her father is a Lutheran pastor. She does believe in reincarnation, but is not religious otherwise. As her dad has now reached his late seventies, his health is in a decline, hence the reason my fellow conversationalist has begun to ponder deeply about the innate character of her parent. After nearly an hour of discussion I had retorted that the Bible is merely a story, to which she replied “How could he possibly accept this story as truth? Is he simply stupid?”. Her face contorted with concern in the long moments that she stared at me. We did not speak about this topic again after this moment. Her skin was cut, and her “why” was revealed.

Why (Y) is a disruptor. I have let it drive me through unthinkable lengths of vast plains. It is the guiding light of curiosity. If you so choose to embark on your psychology experiment, you may discover individuals who are void of “why”. These souls may be on a quest, scalpel in hand, seeking a bulb which is worthy of the self-mutilation of ones own skin. Some may have already given up and made peace without their “why”.

I am quite a fan of synchronicities. Moments after finishing this piece, I opened Max to find something to help me unwind. I was compelled to rewatch season one episode one of “How to with John Wilson”. The cold open struck me deeply.

“There are countless opportunities to make small talk in a big city even though some people seem to avoid it at all costs – it is the glue that binds us all together, and the armor that shields us from each other’s darkest thoughts.”

Slice a slit into your skin. Show me your “why”, and I will show you mine.