02 — QUESTIONS

The five question types

Good questions don't extract information — they shift the substrate. The right question at the right moment changes what is visible and what is possible. Each type serves a distinct function in the arc of development.

Orienting questions locate you honestly in the present moment — in relation to environment, self, and situation. They resist the temptation to skip ahead to solutions before the actual terrain is clear.
Where am I actually, as distinct from where I think I am or should be?
What does this environment afford that I haven't yet used?
What is the gap between the environment I'm in and the one I need?
What am I assuming about this situation that I haven't examined?
What is the most honest description of the present moment?
Diagnostic questions identify what is actually happening in the system — patterns, blockages, sources of energy and depletion. They distinguish signal from noise, and friction that points somewhere from friction that is merely costly.
What patterns keep recurring, and what do they reveal about the substrate?
Where is energy moving easily, and where is it stalled or cycling?
What am I avoiding, and what does the avoidance protect?
Which friction is signal — pointing to real misalignment — and which is just cost?
What would I see if I were observing this situation from outside it?
Generative questions open toward what wants to emerge. They treat the future as already partly present — a direction that can be sensed and invited rather than constructed from scratch.
What is calling to me right now, beyond what I already know how to do?
If this environment were preparing me for something, what would it be?
What capacities are trying to develop through this difficulty?
What would become possible if I stopped protecting the version of myself I've already built?
Where do I feel resonance — not comfort, but aliveness?
Threshold questions address what needs to end, change, or be released for development to proceed. They honor the grief and disorientation that accompanies real change, without being captured by it.
What am I holding onto that no longer serves, but that I'm afraid to release?
What identity, role, or story has become too small for what I'm becoming?
What would I need to grieve in order to move forward honestly?
What does this ending want to teach before it closes?
What substrate change is necessary — not optional — for development to continue?
Navigational questions translate orientation into action. The goal is not the optimal move — it is the most honest next move that generates new information and keeps development alive.
What is the smallest action that would meaningfully shift the substrate?
What would I do if I trusted the direction I can already sense?
Which next step will give me the most useful new information?
What would a minimum viable commitment look like — enough to move, not so much that I can't adjust?
If I knew this decision were reversible, what would I choose?