Your teachers lied to you. They told you there’s no such thing as a stupid question. I’m setting the record straight by saying that there are, indeed, very stupid questions.
For example, when your mother is in the middle of telling you, in her trying-to-be-calm voice that your behavior in the furniture store, where she went to buy bar stools after you and your friends destroyed the old ones, that your behavior, (deep cleansing breath to keep from screaming) when you were crawling under the bathroom stalls, on your belly, in a nasty germ swarming public bathroom, that that behavior is unacceptable and gross and will probably give you some Ebola type virus that no one has a cure for. And you asked, in the middle of your mother’s fury, if you could listen to the radio, well, child, that was one stupid question. You probably figured it out when your mother said, “That’s a really stupid question.” But, if that didn’t clue you in, maybe the entire week without any sort of media, no screen at all, if you want to be entertained write a letter apologizing to me and see how much fun that is, maybe that sort of week will let you know that not only was the stall-crawling wrong, but so was the question.
Another stupid question? How about the “Can I have dessert now” question that came right after you threw away the poached salmon and baked kale I made for dinner? Your mother’s response to that question? “How long have you lived in this house, now? And who do you think your mother is?” Dessert, indeed. I’ll show you dessert, right after you fish the fish out of the garbage and eat it, kid.
Those are just two examples of the many stupid questions I could hold up as poster-children of stupid questions. But, I’m going to Yoga myself into a higher realm of existence where enlightened souls have answers, not questions.