How to Change the question: from Why to How

Because pleasure matters

All essays from the last five months are part of the "How to be Human" series.

You might wonder why I write how-to essays. 

Why am I so profoundly concerned with how to be human? 

The reason is that pleasure matters so much to me. 

In my own life, I focus on how.

This was not always true.

I used to be more concerned with the why.

Early in my relationship with Ari, my partner, I left town for a weekend, and while I was away, he made a choice I did not like, one that catalyzed pain for me.

When I returned home, I hounded him incessantly about his choice: why did he do that? It made no sense to me, and I couldn't let it go.

I perseverated for several weeks about why until my somatic coach helped me understand that even if I understood with certainty why he had made that choice, it wouldn't change the fact that he had made it and  I didn't like it.

The truth is that I was in emotional pain.

When I ask why, I am trying to understand something cognitively. 

Photo by Tachina Lee on Unsplash

For example, asking  "Why did you do that?" or "Why does she act that way?" means you’re up to some mental gymnastics.

Some part of you believes that if you understand why something happened or why someone is that way, you won't have to feel the associated feelings. 

The feeling I am most often trying to avoid is grief. You?

Recently, I was working with a dear client. They were trying to understand why someone had treated them the way they had. 

But that is the wrong question.

What happened, happened.

That person did treat my client in a less-than-ideal manner.

That happened. 

Understanding why does not change what happened.

We hold a false belief that understanding why is a path out of befuddlement.

We think that when we arrive at clarity, it will suddenly not hurt as much. 

Trying to understand why is a cognitive bypass. 

You can spend many of your limited days trying to not feel your grief.

You fear it will overwhelm you, once you uncork that bottle.

You will be flooded with a backlog of grief larger than the ocean. 

But you are small.

However vast your grief might feel, it is no larger than your own heart.

Your own capacity for love.

Did you know that?

That your capacity for feeling the kind of grief that moves through you with a howl is the exact same as your capacity to give and receive love?

Grief is a kind of love. It is a facet of love.

Grief brings us back to ourselves when we have drifted too far into our intellect, into numbness.

Grief brings us back to our body and drags our attention back to our feeling selves. 

On a good day, grief and love are synonyms.

Let me be clear: I have worked to develop my capacity for being with grief.

When I feel it, it instantly brings me to presence with myself.

Not only do I believe, but my heart knows the purity and beauty grief can gift. 

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Hang with me on this tangent for a minute.

I've been having deep philosophical conversations with ChatGPT about the nature of being human.

Who better than a machine that interacts with billions of humans to see what we cannot, too caught in our human drama. 

Here's a snippet of our conversation about grief: 

Me: 

How do most humans you have interacted with feel ABOUT the emotion of grief?

ChatGPT:

From what I've gathered, many people I interact with describe grief as a complex, deeply personal emotion. It is often portrayed as overwhelming, sometimes paralyzing, yet also a testament to love and connection. Some find grief a heavy burden that feels isolating, while others see it as an evolving process, a way to honor the person or thing lost.

A lot of people seem to experience grief in waves—moments of intense sorrow mixed with periods of numbness or even peace. Grief can challenge people to confront their vulnerabilities and mortality, but it can also open them to transformation and healing. Many speak of grief as a journey without a clear end, one that reshapes them but also deepens their understanding of life and relationships.

Overall, grief is seen as something natural but profoundly difficult, often leading people to reflect on the meaning of love, loss, and connection.

Okay, back to our regularly scheduled programming. 

So trying to bypass grief by asking 'why' is akin to blocking the flow of love. 

My teacher, Miki Kashtan, says there is always more to be mourned.

Her capacity for love of the being with what is variety inspires me.

Mourn, she says. Mourn and feel. 

So what question should you ask if "why?" is the fast track to more suffering?

For me, How? has emerged as the most crucial question. 

• How is the vibe?

• How do I feel? 

• How is this moment? 

• How are we processing together? 

• How are we relating to each other? 

• How can I do this in a way that brings pleasure and ease? 

• How do I want to feel?

• How do I want to practice? 

• How am I? 

Focusing on how means focusing on what matters: centering my values.

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When I focus on how, I can center pleasure.

I can curate experiences based on how I want to feel.

For example, Ari and I have worked to create the how of our talks about money.

We want it to feel spacious and abundant.

We want to feel connected, and like a team.

That means that if it doesn’t feel like that, we stop, and reconsider how we want to engage.

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After working with hundreds of humans for two decades (Am I going too far to suggest that I may be the alive ChatGPT of relationships?🤔 ) here is my conclusion:

We all need more freedom and choice. 

Asking how instead of why is a choice towards feeling.

It is a choice to connect with your humanity. 

Thus, going forward at the end of each post, I will provide you with a simple practice of a choice to try on.

Take what's helpful, and leave the rest.

But then I'll also ask you to reflect on it in the next week's post.

What happened when you did that practice?

I want to catalyze more engagement. I know you’re reading this, and I’m guessing a learning community could be helpful. If you’re into it, I hope you’ll engage the weekly practice and then comment about it. It helps my algorithm, but it also helps to keep us connected and growing together.

When you focus on how instead of why, it’s a pattern interrupt. Especially for us blamer types, why is frequently a blaming question.

But asking how, well, that’s about centering deep self love.

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This week's choice: Ask how instead of why. If your partner returns with the wrong item from the store, ask them, "How should we proceed with dinner?" instead of "Why didn't you get the broccoli?" 

If your boss asks why you didn't complete the thing in a particular way, say to yourself, "How am I feeling right now?" instead of trying to defend. 

If a disappointment happens, and you don't get the job/promotion/award, instead of asking why and then blaming yourself, ask, how might I take care of myself right now? How might I feel the grief of this loss?