Follow Your Curiosity

Do you ever feel as though the limited amount of time you have on earth, as a human being, cannot possibly permit you to learn all there is to learn about all the things you find interesting?

I recently strolled into a few bookshops around Ghent, to do one of my favourite things: acquire brand new books full of wonderful unknowns (unknown to me, of course). I have always had an innate curiosity for ideas and in my younger years I would satiate this hunger for knowing by reading every story within reach. Stories were an easy start, and stories were naturally embedded in everyday life: in conversations with friends, in books and on TV. But that was just the beginning, a dipping of toes that would later become full immersion.

I had been introduced, through school, to subjects that delved deeper into particulars and were only taught for the purpose of understanding the world, its creatures, ourselves, and how all this came together. It was also a way to encourage us to think. I enjoyed the consistent novelty that came from learning something new everyday, so I liked school. 

Along the way, I noticed my inclination towards the arts and humanities, though it did not dissuade me from exploring the world of science. Science is, after all, one of the cosiest homes for those who ask a lot questions: ‘why’, ‘how’, ‘what’, ‘what if’ and ‘what happens when’? Humanities and arts, however, had a fluidity that felt much more exciting.

I remember the first time I had this feeling that was yet to bear a name. I was an undergraduate student in university and had often fallen into debates with my peers about the existence of God, among other queries that poked holes on religious teachings. These debates were born out of curiosity, but were also a cheeky way to antagonise my friends and see them shake in their boots. A chance to turn their world slightly, on its axis. I was barely twenty, and can hardly be faulted for my mischief. It was an unusual subject of conversation even in learning institutions like the secular university I attended. Most of us grew up in christian homes and had been taught CRE(Christian Religious Education) from early primary school. Christianity and its principles were central to our worldview.

At the time, I had been unsure about my inclination toward religion and christianity, to be specific. This uncertainty began before my teens and any questions would be met with unsatisfactory answers or outright dismissal. I had more than once been told that all this questioning would make me get lost in my mind and that there are things I just didn’t need to know. By the time I was engaging a group of friends in the library on the truths of the bible, I had began to describe myself as an agnostic theist. ‘Atheist’ was too certain and a sort of anti-christianity in my experiences, to that point. I liked the nuance of the phrase and that it didn’t particularly commit to any box or amount to a complete severing of my roots. It was neutral and questioning. It mirrored my inherent nature. 

After that debate, that left some of my friends doubtful, even curious, it dawned on me that I was free to seek the knowledge I had been searching for most of my life, with no limitations. I had the permission to explore the world and all its wonders without the previous bounds of connecting them to the context of christianity. I could finally explore other ways of thinking about the world and existence, including science and philosophy. To truly dive in, no holds barred.

Suddenly, the possibilities before me seemed so vast and uncontainable that I almost passed out from an overwhelming sense of the sheer vastness of a universe that was now available to me! It was as if a gate I didn’t know existed, swung wide open. All I had to do was walk into the fog; a fog that would start to clear with every step I took. It was my first experience of something close to the German word

“Sehnsucht”, which translates to: an intense, wistful longing for something you can never fully reach. 

It was a deep yearning to know everything while knowing I couldn’t possibly know everything. 

Over the years, this Sehnsucht has washed over me from time to time, and most recently, it happened as I was collecting books to look into subjects that I have been curious about lately. I had bought a few books on philosophy, some historical books and one book of essays. I had also, finally, bought my very first Oxford English Dictionary, as an adult and paired it with a curious find called The Dictionary People about “the unsung heroes who created the Oxford English Dictionary”. 

Buying books is the most exhilarating experience in my world. The feeling I had walking home with my bag full of books; as I unpacked them on arrival, was barely similar to the trying on of new clothes after a shopping spree. The difference is you can’t satisfy the urge to consume them all within the hour, you can only wait, and start with one book at a time. Even as I write this, the excitement comes to life again, and my attempt to express it makes my fingers jump-float over the keyboard as I try to convey it to you. It is a sort of ecstasy. 

I enjoy that feeling now, and appreciate that it is the evidence of a deep curiosity that I have come to embrace, I hope you can also do that with the things you deeply love. Because what is life, if not lived with joy and pockets of magic, the kind of magic that fills us with longing and a recognition of the abundance of our universe? And how can we truly appreciate life if we do not, from time to time, feel like we want to live it all at once and forever in unison? To make our own little globe: a unique microcosm, we can put together to return to when live gets drab or hard to bear. The act of living creatively. I wish it for everyone who gets to read this. 

Follow your curiosity, and find bliss.