Why do People Say that, Do that, Be that…?

One of the questions which has invariably gotten me into trouble in life usually begins with a – Why do people…?

This question doesn’t always get me into trouble, it depends on how I ask it… problem is I often ask it the same way and that way includes a genuine desire to know the answer to the question.

Ask a question without a desire to know and the answer… isn’t important. The question isn’t important either. You’re just asking a question which really isn’t a question and you don’t want an answer because the question isn’t really a question.

It’s not even a rhetorical question… which at least has some sort of desire powering it.

If a question has no energy behind it, it’s like a boat without a sail or an engine, or a rudder, but it does have an anchor which is bigger and heavier than the boat and nothing moves. No, it doesn’t sink either because it just doesn’t move. So nothing is going to happen when you ask that question.

And you’re fine with that because you didn’t want anything to move, or anything to happen, you just wanted to say some words and those words were said as though they were a question.

Are you following me?

That, above, is one of those questions.

However ask a question which has a desire to know the answer powering it,

and it’s not just a mental desire (which can be strong but is pretty weak compared to other kinds of internal desires to know), an idle curiosity, a whimsical wish to know something someone else doesn’t know, have an answer to a question neither of which you give a bleep about, so you can show off that you know something they don’t (even if you have no idea how that knowledge is and was accrued, works, or anything else about it – you just know that 4 is the answer to 2 + 2 because you looked it up online, but someone else did the maths, and someone else created maths so others could do the maths…

that’s a bad example,

what about 42 being the meaning of life. No one knows what the meaning of life is… lots of people say they do, think they do, believe that they do… maybe they do but how do we know for sure that their answer is THE answer… and 42 is just as good an answer as any of the theories, philosophies, beliefs, and other calculations about it. So since everyone around is struggling with finding the meaning of life, you Google it (why do some people not use Google or any other search engine… now that is a question I… I’m not sure I really want to know the answer to that – which is a curious yet not curious question, thus the desire powering it is confused and…. I got sidetracked) and get 42 and then tell all your friends you’ve got the meaning of life sussed – it’s 42. Ha! Aren’t you ahead of everyone else! Feels good… only, unless you’re a bit of a nerd, geek, old like me, or a fan of a certain genre and author of that genre, you might not why 42 is the answer to the meaning of life… and maybe you don’t care where that answer comes from you just want to have that answer, but what if someone asks you to elaborate, explain… what if your answer meets an inquiring mind? Bluff your way out, maybe, you’re a canny one, good at bluffing and intimidating others into silence, or at least clever at making others not want to question you. What if you meet someone who knows more that you? Do you admit ignorance where you once feigned knowledge? Do you then ask them to give you knowledge and instruction into how to really know something so you’ll actually know rather than need to pretend to know?)

What a mess that… paragraph?… was, why do people not admit when they are struggling to find an example of whatever they were pointing out which they now can’t remember because so much rambling water has passed under that bridge and swept them and the bridge away…

So… oh yeah… nope…

Let me just rewind all the way back… to that moment in time long before this post ever happened when I first discovered that I seemed adept at cursing myself (and I’m not talking cussy pirate curses) into some kind of karma jinx loop whereby as soon as I asked – Why do people… – and powered the question with a genuine desire emanating from the guts of me to know the answer, I’d find myself transported into an experience where I got to answer my own question by saying, doing and/or being that which had puzzled me about someone else.

For instance…

yes, I’m totally trying to give an example, this could go horribly wrong like it did before, feel free to bail, parachutes provided by I-Packed-This-Myself (after looking up parachute packing on Bing, ’cause I wasn’t feeling Google that day, but I couldn’t be bothered to read the instructions, pictures weren’t all that clear to me either, but it all fit into the bag – except for the bits I trimmed off).

when I first moved into the house I’m living in I discovered several things which were at first rather disturbing (as they are structural problems) about corners which the previous owner had cut while fixing this place up – this place was sort of an empty shell when the previous owner moved in, the person before them had to sell while they were fixing it, so they had a massive task to do and ran out of various kinds of energy during the process which forced them to sell… I see a pattern here, uh oh, that doesn’t bode well for this present owner!

Anyway each cut corner which I’ve found thus far has caused me to ask – Why do people…? – like why do people not fix things properly when they have the chance to do so. I’ve discovered the answer to that over the last year of trying to hire an expert to fix things properly and realising that such a person may not exist (even when they tell you they do, but what they do while saying it disproves what they’re saying), thus trying to fix things properly ain’t easy… it’s easier to cut corners. I’ve cut a few myself and so the next owner is probably going to ask – Why do people…? – about me and what I’ve done just as I did about what those who came before me have done.

If I want to live in this place for longer than several of the previous owners… maybe I should stop asking questions, stop using energy on an enigma and just chill tf out.

Why do people say, do and be whatever it is that is puzzling us… if you really want to know, and you’re gifted at cursing yourself as I am, you’ll find out soon enough by saying, doing and/or being it yourself… which I suppose is a fairly good way of answering a question about people… as long as the question wasn’t why do people blow others up.

Although I have asked those kinds of – Why do people…? – questions and I haven’t had to go to those extremes to get an answer.

Take what you already know of yourself and stretch it to an extreme case scenario (in your imagination). You’ve been angry, frustrated, disappointed, frightened, felt powerless, felt ignored no matter how hard you tried to get noticed… you’ve probably had moments of feeling the world didn’t give a shit about you so why should you give a shit about it, moments of wanting to make a mark, leave a lasting impression, make people feel what you’re feeling, hear what you’re saying loud and clear, see you – but it has to be big because otherwise no one will notice as they’re all buried in themselves, ass deep in their own stuff, and haven’t got time to notice you even if you’re bleeding to death in front of them.

They’re so busy noticing the person who is ignoring them they haven’t got time to notice you, especially if you’re noticing them…

Most people have had moments like that… some people solve those moments by going to furious extremes. Most people don’t so… maybe we should appreciate those who don’t go to those extremes more and stop paying so much attention to those who do… btu because they don’t go to extremes they may get overlooked as we’re a bit hard of hearing, seeing and directing our attention where it will actually be appreciated.

It’s always the quiet ones… how many times have you heard people say that about someone who went out and did something extreme. They were a loner, quiet… you mean you barely noticed them. Maybe they weren’t a loner or quiet… not at first anyway, but the world ignored them and couldn’t hear them until…

Why do we hear what haters say more than we hear what lovers say?

Why do we only realise how much someone mattered to us once they’re gone?

Why do we only recall the nice things someone said to us after they no longer say them?

Why do people… we are people… so why do we say, do and be what we say, do and be?

Just a thought.

The end.