The questions that open space
Questions lie at the heart of Domei practice, not the kind that demands answers but those that create openings.
These aren't the analytical puzzles we're trained to solve, the ones that close down possibilities with neat conclusions. They're something entirely different.
What does this place want me to notice?
This question doesn't expect your mind to compile a list. It asks you to soften your focus, to let your attention wander like morning light through leaves.
It invites the world to reveal itself in ways your mind might never consider.
It may be the particular way shadow pools beneath that hawthorn.
It could be how the air moves differently near water.
Or the quality of silence that emerges when you stop trying to know and start being present.
How is my breath connected to the breath of plants?
Here's an invitation to step beyond the boundaries of the separate self, not as a metaphor or concept but as a lived experience.
As your exhale feeds their next breath, the exchange becomes tangible as you breathe in what plants have breathed out.
The question dissolves the fiction of where you end and the world begins.
These questions work differently than our habitual mental tools. They're not problems to solve but doorways to walk through.
They bypass the analytical mind's need to categorise and control, inviting instead a deeper intelligence that lives in your body, senses, and capacity to listen with your whole being.
When you sit with such questions, something shifts.
The world stops being a collection of objects to understand and becomes a living conversation to join.
The questions aren't answered so much as embodied, lived into, and breathed with.
This is how Domei opens space — not through knowledge gained, but through presence deepened.
Talk soon,
Robin