The photograph below was taken last week in Perth, with the latest cohort of our Lead the Way programme with Aviva.

It captures much of what I love about facilitating: warmth, laughter, conversation and people learning together.

But behind the smiles, there was also a great deal of thinking going on.

At various moments, I’d ask the group a question and the room would fall silent. People looked at their notes. Some stared thoughtfully into the distance. Others suddenly became fascinated by the pattern of the carpet!

I’d wait a wee while for a response—usually about three seconds.

Although, as a facilitator, those three seconds can sometimes feel remarkably like twenty minutes!

Yet I’ve learned that when someone doesn’t answer immediately, it doesn’t necessarily mean the question has failed. Quite often, it means the question is working.

They may be searching for words or examining something uncomfortable. They may be trying to separate the answer they think they ought to give from the one they actually believe.

That takes time.

My own experience of giving radio interviews and appearing on podcasts has reinforced that lesson.

When I am coaching or facilitating, I usually occupy the relative safety of the questioner’s chair. I can ask a nice, concise question, lean back and look thoughtful.

During an interview, however, I am in the other chair!

The presenter asks a short, apparently innocent question—and suddenly I am expected to produce an answer that is clear, concise, interesting and preferably finished before the programme ends.

Oscar Wilde observed: “Questions are never indiscreet; answers sometimes are.”

Muhammad Ali offered some reassuring advice too: “Silence is golden when you can’t think of a good answer.”

Perhaps—but silence feels slightly less golden when you are live on the radio!

All of this has reminded me that asking a thoughtful question takes curiosity; finding an honest answer takes courage.

The question may take only a few seconds to express. The answer may require us to look beyond our habits, explanations and carefully rehearsed stories.

Sometimes the first answer is the safe one, the second is the sensible one and then, after a little more silence, comes the honest one.

That is often where the real learning begins.

Rainer Maria Rilke counselled: “Live the questions now. Perhaps then… you will gradually come to live yourself into the answer.”

I know that some answers cannot be hurried, they simply need room to emerge!

What question might you need to give yourself a little more time to answer?