The Answer Is in the Question
What a psychology quiz, a Satsang, and a spiritual riddle taught me about being
My hand hovered awkwardly in the air, halfway raised, fingers twitching with hesitation. Should I ask this? Will I sound stupid? I froze there, suspended between the urge to speak and the weight of imagined judgment. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead; pencils scratched against paper. The other students in my Theories of Personality psychology class effortlessly worked through the personality test. And there I was, stuck on a seemingly simple question: Do I answer as the person my friends think I am, or the person I am when nobody’s watching? A voice within me whispered, Perhaps you don’t want to ask that out loud. You might get laughed at.
I glanced around the room. Embarrassment flushed my cheeks before I lowered my hand again, silently picking up the pencil. I decided then to answer as neither. I choose instead to describe who I wish I could be. At twenty-five years old, I had already become skilled at performing roles, changing personalities as easily as costumes, slipping into whoever I thought others wanted me to be. But as I filled in the bubbles, my intuition softly spoke that none of those identities were truly me.
It would take seventeen more years for me to truly understand that moment.
Over those years, I continued choosing roles — some healthy, many self-destructive — always experiencing a quiet discomfort, a subtle dissonance between who I was acting as and who I knew I could be. Eventually, the contradictions became louder than the teachings and teachers that filled my days. I realized: If I could step back and consciously observe all these roles, then clearly, I wasn’t any of them.
Pause here for a moment. Ask yourself: Which role could you set down today simply by noticing you’re holding it? And then ask the bigger question: Who are you without that role?
Now, I no longer identify with my roles or the fleeting thoughts that create them. I might try on new identities without worrying about external approval, and when I get bored or feel constrained, I can let them go without hesitation, because I am not my roles or my thoughts about the roles. It’s liberating to finally live a life authentically meaningful to me.
Yet sometimes I still catch myself regretting how long it took me to wake up. But quickly, I smile, realizing that if I hadn’t been there, lost in those contradictions, I couldn’t possibly have arrived here, at this vibrant intersection of awareness and creation.
A significant leap in this awakening occurred a couple of years ago during a Satsang with Sadhguru, a Kriya Yoga guru from India. Amid chanting and profound silence, I finally acknowledged a truth I’d always deeply sensed but pretended to fear: I am not merely a creation — I am an aspect of the Creator itself.
Driving home, synchronicity stepped in once more as I listened to “The End of Your World” by Adyashanti, a spiritual teacher known for blending Zen teachings with direct, experiential insight. His words felt laser-targeted to my soul: “Because we’ve awakened does not mean consciousness has escaped the gravitational pull of the (waking) dream state… The dissolution of the ego takes time.”
I breathed deeply, recognizing I had work ahead. I began asking myself what roles I still needed to release. Instantly, my thoughts clamored that everything needed to change, overwhelming me with a wave of frustration.
Later, during a Zoom discussion with a class from my master’s degree program, another student shared a riddle that fascinated her: “The answer is in the question.” Initially, my mind spun analytical webs around duality and oneness, offering no real clarity. But later, in a quiet moment, the truth of it pierced me:
When the right question is asked, the answer becomes self-evident.
I realized that asking myself, “What do I want to change?” was entirely the wrong question. Seeing life through awakened eyes, I recognized the perfection inherent in all creation. Change nothing.
The powerful question that genuinely matters is this:
“What do I want to create?”
This was more than a shift in semantics; it was a rupture in perception. Suddenly, life was no longer about fixing or fleeing but about forging. This was the moment I stopped chasing answers and started designing them.
Pause again. Reflect deeply: What would you create if you trusted that you could? And then the bigger question: Do my day-to-day choices lead me closer or further away from what I want to create?
Hint: None of the choices you make should lead you further from your goals.
Today, I’m joyfully building a new iteration: Karrie 47.0. This upgraded version includes a profound sense of self-worth and limitless capability. Her purpose is clear: to serve as a tool in the evolution of human consciousness.
As I envision my highest self, I humorously imagine being so self-realized that my guardian angels and spirit guides finally take well-deserved vacations. They’ve certainly earned them. And maybe that’s the point — what began as a moment of silent hesitation in a college classroom has grown into a life led by conscious creation. If there’s one invitation I can offer you, it’s this: raise your hand. Ask the question. Then ask a better one. And create from there.
Karrie holds a master’s degree in transpersonal psychology, teaches creative writing, and facilitates retreats for writers obsessed with consciousness and creativity (like her). Curious souls can find her at . Follow her here on Medium if you’re on a journey to live more creatively and consciously.
