If asked to describe the concept of doubt, I think of descriptors like foggy, paralyzed, and uncertain. I see rooms full of shadow, with secrets hidden in every corner. The very notion of doubt, to me, evokes a stagnancy, a sense of turning inward, a crumpling up and doubling over and shrinking into myself. I become very small, and the darkness creeps in all around me. I feel claustrophobic, scared, and diminished.
These are my descriptors; you may have an entirely different array of words, feelings, and images for doubt. What this exercise does is reveal how embodied a spiritual disposition like doubt can become. It doesn’t just exist in our heads but conjures up a whole world based on how we relate to real, tangible things.
Doubt is a common enough feeling. The next question, then, is, How do we respond?
Certainty seems like the logical counterbalance. What images and emotions does certainty evoke? I see myself standing taller, gazing out with confidence over a landscape that is mine to know. My back is straight, my chin is high, and the sun has dispersed the clouds. Yet I remain stagnant. I stand still. In many ways, this image is an inverse—and not a helpful one. It’s this embodied knowing that says to me that certainty is not the right choice.
Curiosity conjures images of flashlights clutched in outstretched hands, torches held high to part the shadows, and eyes seeking out all that skitters in the darkness.
In my latest book, Where Wonder Leads: Finding God Through Fairy Tales, Myth, and Contemplative Prayer, I write about cultivating a disposition of curiosity. Curiosity is what gets us reading new books, watching new movies, and meeting new friends. Curiosity has movement to it; I see myself leaning in like an old sea captain against a storm. Curiosity conjures images of flashlights clutched in outstretched hands, torches held high to part the shadows, and eyes seeking out all that skitters in the darkness.
Curiosity moves. Curiosity contrasts with the status quo. Curiosity is not stagnant.
“Curiosity,” I write, “is a powerful antidote to doubt.” And why? Doubt insists that the answers we want do not exist. Doubt whispers that we can never accomplish those dreams we hold or make those discoveries we desire. Doubt holds us fast.
Certainty, while tempting, is no better. It, too, insists that we already have all we need. No further movement is necessary.
Curiosity, though, breaks the chains and carries us into uncharted territory. Curiosity is brave, bold, and humble. After all, curiosity by its very nature knows that it doesn’t know it all.
That’s why curiosity makes for good storytelling and even better story-receiving. Curiosity sweeps us up, puts us on a path, and nudges us into the great unknown. And that’s exactly what my new book is all about: being curious about how the unknown, the fantastical, and the mythic can reveal something good, true, and beautiful about our daily lives.
As you continue on your own spiritual journey, consider this embodied knowing. Ask yourself questions that dig out the truth about your current status quo. Do you feel stuck? Paralyzed? Do you see yourself shrouded in fog and shadows? Perhaps that’s doubt nipping at your heels. The antidote? Curiosity.
The next step, then, is a new array of questions, ones that get you up and out on the proverbial road. What questions do you need to ask yourself to prompt a disposition of curiosity?
Photo by Linus Sandvide on Unsplash.
