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yes is the right question.         The alternative to asking How? is saying Yes—not literally, but as a symbol of our stance towards the possibility of more meaningful change. If the answers to How? have not fed us, then perhaps we ordered the wrong meal. The right questions are about values, purpose, aesthetics, human connection, and deeper philosophical inquiry. To experience the fullness of working and living, we need to be willing to address questions that we know have no answer. When we ask How? we limit ourselves to questions for which there is likely to be an answer, and this has major implications for all that we care about.

The goal is to balance a life that works with a life that counts. The challenge is to acknowledge that just because something works, it doesn’t mean that it matters. A life that matters is captured in the word yes. Yes is the answer—if not the antithesis—to How? Yes expresses our willingness to claim our freedom and use it to discover the real meaning of commitment, which is to say Yes to causes that make no clear offer of a return, to say Yes when we do not have the mastery, or the methodology, to know how to get where we want to go. Yes affirms the value of participation, of being a player instead of a spectator to our own experience. Yes affirms the existence of a destination beyond material gain, for organizations as well as individuals.

To commit to the course of acting on what matters, we postpone the How? questions and precede them with others that lead us to more questions that perhaps lead us to more questions. So much for answers. In fact the most useful questions are ones that entail paradox, questions that recognize that every answer creates its own set of problems. Here are some Yes questions that draw us into what matters.

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Question One:
What refusal have I been postponing?

A dominant myth in almost every workplace is that if you say no, you will be shot. The only question is whether our reluctance to say no is more an expression of our own caution and doubt or a feature of the culture that we work in.

If we cannot say no, then our yes means nothing.

When we realize, as Jung stated, that all consciousness begins with an act of disobedience, then saying no opens the door to pursuing our own desires. Refusal becomes a realistic option when we realize that saying no is the beginning of a conversation, not the end. We may say no, and the people we work for may say, “You have to do this.” That’s okay. I can live without getting my way, but I cannot live without believing that I have a right to refuse what makes no sense to me. The inversion of “What refusal have I been postponing?” is “What have I said yes to that I did not really mean?” Even if I meant yes at the time, I may not mean it now—which says that I have a right to change my mind, which is yet another expression of our freedom and acceptance of our humanity. Machines are consistent, people are not—they only try to be.

Accepting the possibility of refusal means that when we finally say yes it is an act of volition. It is the clearest test of whether we are acting on our own instincts, according to what matters to us, or whether we have internalized the direction provided by others. This is not an argument against following the direction provided by others. It is simply a litmus test: Have we freely chosen to follow their direction, or do we do so out of compliance and a fear of refusing? While we may be doing the same thing either way, the context of our action is everything.

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Question Two:
What commitment am I willing to make?

This question recognizes that if change is to occur, it will come from my own free choice, not from the investment of the institution or the transformation of others. Every project of consequence or personal calling will require more of us than we originally imagined. Sister Joyce DeShano, an executive of a large health care system, understands calling better than anyone I know. She says that the call comes from a place that we do not know, that the demands placed on us will be more than we ever expected, and that if we knew what was in store, we never would have said yes. These are excellent tests for the pursuit of what matters.

The question of commitment declares that the essential investment needed is personal commitment, not money, not the agreement of others, not the alignment of converging forces supportive of a favorable outcome. For anything that matters, the timing is never quite right, the resources are always a little short, and the people who affect the outcome are always ambivalent. These conditions offer proof that if we say yes, it was our own doing and it was important to us. What a gift.

Question Three:
What is the price I am willing to pay?

There is a cost to pursuing what matters, and money is the least of it. In acting on what matters, we are leaning against the culture, and we may be disappointing those around us who have adapted to the way we used to be. We may begin a project with little management support. We may initiate discussions that no one else wants to have. We may push our institution into caring about the environment, about its community, about a new service, about new ways of managing performance. All of these carry a risk, and well they should.

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Despite its rhetoric, the culture does not value independent action. The culture wants to ask the family of How? questions: What does it cost? How long does it take? Where else has this worked? And we may have no good answers to these questions. When we say Yes instead, we acknowledge that acting on what we choose costs us something, which is what gives it value. If there were no price to saying Yes, to acting in the face of our doubts and meager methodology, then the choice we make would have no meaning.

Asking what price we are willing to pay also means that if we fail, we expect there to be negative consequences. This is one aspect of accountability: If it does not work out, we will not be rewarded. And why should we be rewarded? Because we tried hard? Not really. The fact that being wrong may be costly also means that if we are successful, we will have purchased some latitude to try again, perhaps recapturing some more freedom to act and room to breathe.

Question Four:
What is my contribution to the problem I am concerned with?

This question is an antidote to our helplessness. It affirms that we have had a role in creating the world we live in. If we believe that we have not created what we are facing then the payoff is a moment of guilt-free innocence—it is not our fault. If we decide to choose freedom, we surrender innocence and exchange it for guilt. We experience the guilt of saying no to an individual or an institution, and saying yes to what matters. We gain a life lived well and lose the comfortable innocence of a life partially lived.

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This question also shifts the nature of accountability. It is the alternative to being “held” accountable, because it asks us to choose accountability. When we get stuck, and are not acting on what matters, it is usually because we have defined ourselves out of the problem. What keeps us stuck is the belief that someone or something else needs to change before we can move forward. Acknowledging what we have done to cause the problem dislodges us from being trapped in an instrumental existence. This question also gets us out of the audience and onto the stage. We affirm that we are not a spectator, but a player, and in the end we have no one to blame but ourselves. How is that for a strong selling point?

Question Five:
What is the crossroad at which I find myself at this point in my life/work?

This question affirms the idea that it is the challenge and complexity of life and work that gives it meaning. We expected to live happily ever after and find that yesterday’s triumph is no longer enough. There is no level of success from which we can wade into shore. This question is especially important if what we have done in the past has been successful, for what worked yesterday becomes the gilded cage of today. It is the answer to this question that gives us clues to what matters most.

The fact that we acknowledge we are at a crossroad gives us the energy to get through the intersection. We will find meaning in exploring and understanding this crossroad. Our crossroad represents an as yet unfulfilled desire to change our focus, our purpose, what we want to pursue. Talking about our crossroad also recognizes that what is most personal to us is also universal. It is always surprising and reassuring to find out that we are not alone and our own crossroad is widely shared by others.

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Question Six:
What do we want to create together?

This question recognizes that we live in an interdependent world, that we create nothing alone. We may think we invented something, or achieved something on our own, but this belief blinds us to all that came before and those who have supported us. It is a radical question, for it stabs at the heart of individualism, a cornerstone of our culture. It also declares that we will have to create or customize whatever we learn or whatever we import from others. We may think we can install here what worked there, but in living systems, this is never the case.

Just having a conversation about this question brings people’s deeper side into the room. As soon as I begin to discuss what I want to create, I am in the position of cause, not effect. So many workplace conversations are about how we are going to deal with what they want to create. Question Six stops the political discussion of what they want from us and how we are going to respond, and starts the purpose-filled discussion of what we will initiate. The dialogue alone levels the playing field, even if for only a moment. For that moment, our desires count.

The Bonus Question:
What is the question that, if you had the answer, would set you free?

This is the mother of all questions. It is a question that can only be meditated upon. Each time you answer it, you begin a different conversation. While there may not be one answer that you can settle on, each attempt aims you in a good direction. It is like a laser beam into what matters. It brings the question of our freedom front and center. It carries within it the optimistic message that our freedom might be within reach. It confronts our illusions about what will set us free because the answer is a reminder of all the effort it takes that does not set us free, but further obligates us. This question is the culmination of the previous six questions.

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All together, the Yes questions transform our inquiries into a deeper, more intimate discussion of why we do what we do. They bring us to the larger question, a favorite of large-scale change consultant Kathie Dannemiller: How will the world be different tomorrow as a result of what we do today? This kind of question brings our purpose into focus. It makes us choose what matters for ourselves. If we want to create a workplace that values idealism, human connection, and real, in-depth learning, we have to create this ourselves. We take a step toward these ideals when we shift to the Yes-type questions, questions that are filled with anxiety and ambiguity, questions that force us to put ourselves on the line.

Towards a More Perfect Union

We can now bring these two sets of questions together, and in so doing, better define the meaning of a shift from How? to Yes—or from “What works?” to “What matters?” Each of the six Yes questions offers an alternative path to the six How? questions. Read the pairs of questions and notice how the locus of control shifts from outside to inside, from practice to intentions, from the strategic to the personal. It might not seem like much, but it is a small shift with large implications.

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How? Question One: How do you do it?
    becomes

Yes Question One: What refusal have I been postponing?

The shift here is from a question of method to one of choice. Granted, refusal is a strange way of saying yes. But when our plate is full and we seek a change, knowing what we need to say no to is essential to invention. Many acts of creativity, even new businesses, began with a decision about what not to recreate. The second wave of computer companies were begun by IBM graduates who were determined to create something different.

Also, remember that the question of “How do you do it?” is more often an indirect expression of our doubts than real curiosity. So let the doubts be stated directly and let them be owned by the doubter as an internal struggle in their thinking rather than a detached observation of the external world. Plus, if you believe that saying no will get you shot, well, what a fine way to go.

How? Question Two: How long will it take?
    becomes

Yes Question Two: What commitment am I willing to make?

We have time for all that is truly important to us, so the question of time shifts to What is important? When we say something takes too long, it just means that it does not matter to us. So be it. Don’t do it. Schedule is a much later discussion—besides, our ability to know how long a change in a living system will take is a guess at best. How long does it take to raise a child, change a culture, create a new direction, shift a strategy? We can shout urgency, set tight schedules, define monster goals, and the world will still proceed at the pace it chooses. We are too prone to understate the time required as a means of convincing ourselves or others to go ahead. Change comes from care and commitment, so let that be the more important discussion.

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How? Question Three: How much does it cost?
    becomes

Yes Question Three: What is the price I am willing to pay?

The real cost of change or creating something of value is emotional, not economic. What is most valuable cannot be purchased at a discount. The price of change is measured by our effort, our will and courage, our persistence in the face of difficulty. The shift here is from an economic measure of cost to a personal measure of will. The price I am willing to pay recognizes this. When we do talk about money, or a budget, it is usually other people’s money we will be spending. If it is their money, the stakes are not so high. If we want to raise the stakes so the decision is of some consequence, better to make it a personal question. The ultimate price is the willingness to fail and get hurt if it does not work. This is the more important discussion and leads to a more realistic consideration of whether or not the price is too high.

How? Question Four: How do you get those people to change?
    becomes

Yes Question Four: What is my contribution to the problem I am concerned with?

This is a shift in accountability. The focus on my contribution keeps the decision maker in the loop of accountability. Too many decisions to initiate a change are made by people untouched by the change effort. The Yes question embodies Gandhi’s idea that we need to become the change we want to see. This keeps us honest. It is the antidote to our need to control others. The Yes question affirms that we are the cause, while the How? question declares they are the cause. Better we than they. Gandhi had another precept that I once saw on the wall of his ashram: “If blood be spilled, let it be our own.” This defines humility and a willingness to sacrifice, and our thinking about change needs more of this.

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How? Question Five: How do we measure it?
    becomes

Yes Question Five: What is the crossroad at which I find myself at this point in my life/work?

The central question in exploring a change is whether or not what we are considering will have meaning for us, for the institution, for the world. Concrete measures can determine progress, but they do not really measure values. The crossroad question helps to define what has personal meaning for us, which is the first-order question. We pursue what matters independently of how well we can measure it, so by looking at the crossroad we break the limitations demanded by the measurement question. It is important to measure what we can, but to raise this question too early, and to use it as a criterion that will determine whether or not to proceed, runs the risk of worshipping too small a god.

How? Question Six: How are other people doing it successfully?
    becomes

Yes Question Six: What do we want to create together?

These questions represent the tension between what is proven and what is still to be discovered. If we want our institution to hold a leadership position, then we need a question that does not distract us too much by holding too closely to the experience of others. Individually and collectively, we have the wisdom we need to get the results we want. The challenge is to trust and act on that wisdom. How many times have we brought in an outsider to tell us what we already knew was true?

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“Where else is it working?” has a compelling face validity. Who would argue against learning from others? The problem is that the question perpetuates the belief that others know and we don’t. The Yes question shifts towards the knowledge of those who have a stake in the change and affirms our trust in ourselves. Remember the childhood game of hide and seek? The search began when the one who was “it” called out, “Ready or not, here I come!” A profound statement.

The Paradox of How?

We can now thread these concerns together. Whatever our destination, it is letting go of the practical imperative that is most likely to guide us to a larger sense of where we want to go and what values we want to embody in getting there. What matters is the experience of being a human being and all that this entails.

What will matter most to us, upon deeper reflection, is the quality of experience we create in the world, not the quantity of results.

There is no methodology for recovering our idealism. Why follow in the steps of another to discover where our dreams will lead us? If we believe there is only one recipe for this discovery, the method we have ingested will contaminate our own answer to the question of purpose.

The array of Yes questions brings meaning and reminds us that if freedom is what is essential to a life that matters, and to an institution that fulfills its purpose, then along this path are acts of disobedience and even betrayal—a willingness to move against the dominant beliefs of the moment. I am always surprised at how willing people in power are to follow the current fashion. The moment one high-profile institution, in concert with a big-name consulting firm, reengineers, empowers, merges, divests, flattens, kisses customers, or emphasizes cost control, the chain reaction of follow-the-leader is immediate and widespread. When we follow fashion and ask for steps, recipes, and certainty, we deny our freedom, for we are trapped by the very act of asking the question. Following a recipe assumes there is a known path to finding our freedom and that someone else knows it. Freedom asks us to invent our own steps. The phrase that expresses this most clearly is “to be the author of our own experience.”

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This does not mean that we cannot learn from others. It is just that asking how is a poor method of learning. We learn by bearing witness to how others live their lives. We learn from the questions others have the courage to ask. We are more likely to be transformed from dialogue about what is real and what is illusion. These conversations are qualitatively different from seeking methods and answers.

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