When You Don’t Have The Answer, Change The Question

We open with an unlikely mentor: WWE Hall of Famer “Hot Rod” Roddy Piper. His famous line becomes a mindset tool—when you don’t have the answer, change the question. That reframe launches a clear path from emotion to action, where setbacks stop being verdicts and start being data. Instead of “Why did I fail?” we ask “What can I learn?” and “What’s the next best step?” The shift matters because obsessing over what’s broken traps us in rumination. Curiosity loosens that grip. When we widen perspective, we see what to keep, drop, or improve, and we invest energy in direction instead of doubt.

That direction tightens when we choose meaning over motivation. Motivation is a spark, not a power grid; daily frictions—emails, traffic, bad coffee, tense conversations—drain it fast. Meaning endures. It answers why the goal matters, who benefits, and what changes when we succeed. By writing down the mission, naming who it serves, and visualizing the feeling of a win, we build a shield against noise. Energy aimed at a clear why creates momentum. Momentum compounds into resilience: every stumble becomes training weight. The David and Goliath example captures it—shift from “He’s too big to beat” to “He’s too big to miss,” and your aim follows your question.

Still, the mind replays regret on a loop. We remember a single awkward moment over four wins. That bias is human, but it’s not a life sentence. We cut it down to size with the 10-10-10 rule: how will this matter in 10 minutes, 10 months, and 10 years? The technique separates hot emotion from cool judgment. Most gaffes shrink to comedy in weeks. Tough choices gain clarity when future you gets a vote. Apply it to feedback, deals, creative risks, or a botched meeting; ask what small action reduces regret across all three horizons. The goal isn’t to erase discomfort, but to anchor action to time-tested priorities.

Resilience grows in valleys, not on peaks. We become who we admire by walking through failure, noting the clues it leaves, and changing the question at each fork. Start your day with a quick meaning check: write the mission in one sentence, list the first two actions that move it forward, and pre-plan a response for the likely distraction. When friction hits, swap “Why me?” for “What now?” and use 10-10-10 to right-size the fear. At night, log one lesson and one win, no matter how small. Over days, energy goes where it counts, momentum returns, and confidence follows evidence. The story you’re writing becomes sturdier—and so do you.