Curiosity is one of my favorite things about being human.
It’s gentle, it’s inviting, a little mysterious, and honestly, way more fun than perfectionism could ever dream of being.
Have you ever noticed that most creative moments big or small start with a tiny spark
of hmm... what if?
That’s curiosity. Not always loud. Not always dramatic. Just a nudge.
And despite what we’re sometimes taught (or at least what I was taught), creativity isn’t
just for people who call themselves artists. It’s in anyone who has ever tried a new
recipe, rearranged furniture at 9 p.m. “just because,” chosen a new color to wear, or
followed an unexpected idea simply to see where it might take them.
In other words: If you’re alive, you’re curious. If you’re curious, you’re creative. And if
you’re creative, you’re collaborating with the unknown.
Artists experience this every day. Writers stare at the blank page. Painters wonder
where the next brushstroke should land. Ceramicists open the kiln uncertain about how
the fire has transformed their piece. That’s a relationship with the unknown.
But truthfully, we all experience this.
Every time you combine ingredients and hope they get along. Every time you choose
an outfit without overthinking. Every time you take a different route on a walk.
Every time you veer from the usual plan.
Curiosity is how we first learned everything, how to move, how to communicate, how
to connect, how to understand the world. It has always been our most natural teacher.
And if you really want to understand curiosity watch a baby. They touch, taste, shake,
fling, stare, crawl, reach, fall, and try again. ... they explore. They don’t worry about
doing it “right.” Their entire world is one big unpredictable experiment.
And that instinct never goes away. What does happen is that we grow up and begin
absorbing the silent rules of the world:
Be careful.
Look competent.
Don’t be weird.
Don’t make mistakes.
Do things that have value.
Be productive.
Little by little, we get conditioned out of curiosity and into comparison, judgment, and
self-consciousness. We forget that curiosity is not childish, it’s essential. And it keeps
us healthy, flexible and our spirit alive and engaged.
But if you’re like me, you may be a familiar with this other feeling: exploring the
unknown often brings resistance. The “Should I really?” The “Will this be any good?”
The “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
We tend to think the unknown asks for bravery, but more often it asks only for
attention, the smallest willingness to lean in and follow our curiosity.
And the good news; we all feel this. That edge you find yourself on? That’s the growth
edge, the place where interesting things start happening. Curiosity swoops in grabs
your hand, and whispers (or when necessary, shouts), “You don’t have to know. You
only need to begin”.
And when you listen even a little, life opens up. A new idea pops out of nowhere.
A moment surprises you. A space transforms. A conversation deepens. You realize
creativity isn’t something you have to achieve, it’s something you allow.
One of the easiest ways to strengthen that muscle is simply to notice your creative
acts. Especially the small ones that appear insignificant.
Try noticing:
• the flavors you instinctively combine
• the colors you gravitate toward
• the way you set a table
• the vibe you create in a room without trying
• the ideas that cross your mind on any given day
Noticing is a practice, an inner tuning. A connection to your inner landscape. The more
you notice, the more you’ll recognize that curiosity is inviting you to expand, explore,
and take pleasure in the countless riches around and within you. And, noticing is
nurturing. It builds trust and reminds you, “Oh right... I am curious. I am creative.”
And the more you acknowledge these creative acts, the more your willingness grows.
Curiosity is no longer a stranger but a steady companion. And from there, curiosity
grows naturally. Not as pressure, but as possibility.
So next time you feel the pull to try something new, even if it’s tiny, listen to its call and
consider following it. You’re not supposed to know where it will lead. Let yourself
explore. Let yourself be surprised. Let yourself collaborate with the unknown one small
“why not?” at a time.
You don’t have to be fearless, skilled, or sure. Just show up on the page, in front of the
canvas, or at the kitchen counter.
Curiosity will take it from there.
ShapeShifter thanks guest writer, artist, and incredible human, Jessie Marcus for sharing her exploration on Curiosity. Visit her website here Jessie Marcus
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