Curiosity

August 3, 2015

Greetings from the inquiring mind,

Recently I read a word that has always been in my lexicon, but I saw it in such a new context that it has been on my mind ever since. 

Curiosity.

“Once we believe in ourselves, we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight, or any experience that reveals the human spirit.” e. e. cummings

In the last week I have kneaded this word in my hands, felt its texture and weight and warmth.  I thought about how the word is used daily and completely overlooked for its power and influence in how we behave.

Curiosity: Leads to learning.  Leads to creativity.  Leads to opportunity, adventure, challenge. Leads to love.  Leads to discovery.

I thought about some of my favorite people, people I admire.  I listed their strengths, how they live their lives and influence others.  I wrote words like kindness, patience, honesty, courage, resilience.  And I wrote curiosity.

Some of the brightest people I know are lifelong learners; those people who have a broad range of interests, from gardening to astronomy to quilting to cooking to rock climbing, and they are insatiable.  These are the men and women you meet who are interested in other people; they ask about your life, your passions, your experiences, what you do for fun.  They are curious to know what life has to offer.

Life is filled with mysteries, some as simple as cotton candy, and some as complex as love.  Some mysteries compel us to think and pursue and explore, and we find they are unknowable.  And then we curious sorts sit at the edge of the water and create a philosophy to deal with that.

There are risks that come with following your curiosity.  I’ve thought about this, because so much of what I have read poses a healthy curiosity as positive, as a place of growth, and as a desirable urge.  So what is the risk, what is it that ‘killed the cat’, as it were?

The urge to see what is on the other side of the wall, the spark that compels us to explore, to ask, to uncover, to go clambering over without knowing the drop on the other side, is curiosity.  That can certainly bring us to places where choices have to be made when our inquisitiveness is satisfied.  I suppose that blindly following a human urge with no regard for consequence is irresponsible, but we learn how to temper that with maturity and experience.

The greater risk is that we sometimes temper the curiousness right into nonexistence.  We find that the status quo is good enough, that to be curious takes too much energy, creates diversion from the demands of our rote, planned, executable, safe routine.  And sometimes it is fear, the foundering of faith in ourselves, that makes us timid, and we push curiosity into the box we keep our innocence in.

I think we can follow the example set by children.  They are naturally curious, and they learn everything because of it.  Each thing they add to their experience is a lesson that modifies their behavior, so they learn what is dangerous and refine their choices. But this does not dampen their enthusiasm for knowing more. 

This morning I sat at the edge of the water and watched the sun make its way onto the lip of the world, and I realized something new.  In the core of curiosity is hopefulness, optimism.  Our desire to know what is behind the mystery, what waits in the next friendship, what lies among the stars, is rooted in an urge to have the answer in our lives, with the belief that we will be better for knowing it.  That what waits to be discovered will be good, and somehow add to the richness of our experiences, will lead us to a fuller life. 

In every adventure there is risk.  But we were made this way; we are curious for a reason, and it is up to each of us to live up to that gift.  We will be better for ourselves and for each other.

Hope this finds you unsatisfied,

David

Copyright © 2015 David Smith