The Big Question

It starts by removing standard ideas of accomplishment. And then it hits you with what really matters. 

“If you remove work, school, volunteerism, sports, and church activity: what is your greatest accomplishment? Or . . . what are you most proud of about yourself—as a human?”

“Of course, it isn’t actually the question that’s important. It’s the answer.”

Of course, it isn’t actually the question that is important. It’s the answer. Because, as I explain to people when I interview them and ask that question, the Big Answer is the one that you wouldn’t normally say in an interview. The Big Answer is the one that makes your throat catch a little. And it’s the answer that you know about yourself deeply.

I first heard this question nearly 20 years ago when I participated in a group interview for the new mentoring program we were launching at my alma mater. One of my dear friends (a fellow interviewer) introduced the question as one we should ask each candidate. I have now asked that question in hundreds of interviews over the years, and it is the moment in the interview when we stop responding at surface level. It is the moment when people are offered a chance to practice both courage and vulnerability.

And the answers that I have had the honor of hearing are among the most authentic, beautiful moments I’ve ever known.

“I’m most proud of my relationship with my brother. We went through some tough times together and now we are so close. I know that no matter what happens, I would do anything for him.” 

“I’m proud of myself for leaving home and moving across the country by myself to attend college.” 

“I’m proud of myself for showing up and being there for my friend when he was depressed and threatening to hurt himself. It was so hard and really terrifying. But he is alive now.” 

“I’m proud of myself for learning English as a little girl and being able to translate bank statements and bills for my immigrant parents when I was only 8 years old.” 

“I’m proud of myself for staying in the room and holding his hand at the moment my father passed away.”

“The answers I have had the honor of hearing are among the most authentic, beautiful moments I’ve ever known.”

Each of those answers came from a college student. Each of those answers were different. Each of those answers were Big Answers. Of course, it is the Big Answers that bring us together. They allow us to truly see each other in our full, complicated humanity. They allow us to reveal things about ourselves that elicit our best instincts.

Sometimes interviews have resulted in tears at this question. And sometimes the interviewees surprise themselves with their emotion. I remember one person being incredulous at her own tears as she simply described how much she loved her little sister. But that moment—in which she allowed herself to feel that love for her sister and speak it in the presence of others—was such an impactful moment for all of us in the room that it has remained with me for years.

It is those moments of deep humanity and connection that I believe we are all yearning for, and I think that in 2020 we need those moments more than ever. That is why I ask the Big Question of every person I interview on the 92,000 Hours podcast. I am hoping that those moments of courage and vulnerability that my guests share with our listeners will elicit some of the same feelings of empathy and connection that I have had the privilege of feeling throughout my years of mentoring.

Over my nearly two decades of mentoring and coaching, I’ve had the honor to engage in conversations that mirror the Big Question and the Big Answers. And I’ve learned that we all want to be seen and accepted for who we are under the surface, and we deeply desire the opportunity to provide that type of acceptance for others.

At the end of a year-long peer-coaching course, one of the student participants read the following poem as a way to sum up the experience, and what those Big Questions and Big Answers had meant for her. I’ll leave you with it with the hope that you will take a moment to practice vulnerability and courage by answering the Big Question for yourself and honoring your own Big Answer.

“It is those moments of deep humanity and connection that I believe we are all yearning for . . .”

The Invitation

By Oriah Mountain Dreamer 

It doesn't interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon...
I want to know
if you have touched
the center of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life's betrayals
or have become shriveled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.

It doesn't interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
"Yes."

It doesn't interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the center of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.