Inquiring with Unknowing
This entry is part of a series on practical philosophy: Part 1. Inquiring with Unknowing. Part 2: Practical Metaphilosophy. Part 3: Core Techniques.
I recently read what actor Ted Danson said to Kelsey Grammer when he turned 40:
“You know what it means, don't you? Now that you're 40, it means you're finally worth having a conversation with.”
That felt resonant, and it reminded me of what Carl Jung once said:
“Life really does begin at forty. Up until then, you are just doing research.”
I'm six months into being 40, and I'm starting to feel like I'm worth having a conversation with. I've done my share of research, and life feels like it's just beginning.
, from the excellent Coaches Rising podcast, which is the premier show for cutting-edge coaches, has extended an open invitation for me to appear on his show. I’ve finally decided to end my podcasting moratorium and have accepted his offer. It will be an honour to return to the podcasting game with Joel, who has a big heart and, as far as I can tell, is a wise steward of the good side of the coaching industry. (You can read my take on the bad side here, which Joel also read aloud on his podcast.)He wants to discuss my inquiry practice, and philosophical inquiry more broadly. It's a difficult prospect for me, as I'm actively inquiring into what my practice even is. I use this Substack, and writing more generally, as an opportunity to cohere my mind by creating “theory sketches” (which I’ll write more about later in this series).
Lately, I’ve been writing about my inquiry practice in an effort to understand what it is, and what it wants to become.
Recent key entries:
My practice has been going for four and a half years now, and I absolutely love it. I love inquiry, helping people become unstuck, and leaving them feeling lighter, which is a common thing I'm told happens after an inquiry. I hear this because I hold the heaviness with them, in both mind and body. I understand the intellectual and emotional contours of what they are holding, the existential knottiness of it all, which, evidently, reduces its weight.
I’ve labeled my practice many different things over the years, situating it first in the gift economy, then in the market economy, and now in an economy I made up called the holding space economy. It’s ironic, because part of how I make a living is by helping people gain clarity through this practice, yet I still remain unclear about what my practice actually is and what it wants to become.
The five main questions I’m puzzled about are:
What is it?
What should I call it?
How should I price it?
How and where should I promote it?
More centrally, should I even try to rely on it to support my livelihood?
Questions #2 to #4 are most likely downstream of #1. Question #5—and the pressure that arises from it, such as making things too legible for the market too soon—makes me less clear about #1.
However, my puzzlement is a feature, not a bug. I argue that inquiry with unknowingness is central to whatever it is I’m doing. Aporia—the Greek word meaning “difficulty in passage”—is a state of confusion about something deeply important, related to one’s existential wayfinding. It’s the kind of confusion that creates a proactive longing for clarity.
It’s also exactly what is needed for a philosophical inquiry to happen: no aporia, no philosophy. It’s not just the person being held space for who needs to enter this state—the space holder also needs to join them in aporia. Moreover, being in this state about elements of the practice itself allows for flexibility, enabling the practice to continue evolving.
Now, six months into being 40 and with hundreds of inquiries behind me, I have enough clarity to begin mapping the contours of what I do with greater confidence—formalizing my inquiry process while still honouring my five questions of puzzlement.
I consider the practical philosopher Andrew Taggart a mentor in relation to my practice. I began privately inquiring with him 11 years ago, in 2013. Andrew opened my mind to what philosophy actually is. My practice is rooted in the spirit of his lineage and indebted to him, but through many aporia-inducing inquiries, it has since evolved into something uniquely my own.
In the next entry, I’ll discuss some brief theory, or “metaphilosophy,” which means philosophizing about philosophy. Then I’ll move on to the practice: core techniques you can use right now to begin having less foolish inquiries of your own.
The Stoa has some great events coming up that explore the internet’s dark forests, an epic map of consciousness, and “high archetypal penetrance” (HAP).
You can RSVP below: