I’ve always prided myself on my curiosity. I incessantly google everything. I explore new places. I read all the time. I ask very intentional questions of people (I literally own a book with the title 4000 QUESTIONS TO GET TO KNOW ANYONE AND EVERYONE).
That means I’m curious, right?
I always thought it did, but I’ve been noticing a pattern in my life recently. I rarely ask questions that pose risk to me. I will ask everyone questions about themselves and their experiences, but I don’t ask questions that pertain to me or my dreams. I struggle to ask people I admire how they got to where they did. In my writing, I usually only write things that I have an answer to. I usually don’t write about parts of my life if I’m still in the middle of the process. I try to convince myself and others that I have the process figured out (and even if I don’t that I CAN figure it out without anyone’s help).
I guess I have this idea in my brain that I have to have all the answers; which means I can’t have any questions.
But admitting that I don’t have (and don’t have to!) have all the answers takes vulnerability, courage, and a willingness to give up control.
I like to control the narrative. If I don’t control it, the questions I ask could lead me to places out of my depth and out of my skill level. But places like that aren’t bad. In fact, they’re usually only dangerous to my ego. If I keep trying to control my narrative and if I don’t take any risks for the sake of curiosity, my narrative remains extremely narrow.
Next time we see each other, let’s ask each other courageous questions!
Now, excuse me while I go google how to cultivate curiosity.