Follow Your Curiosity

Do you ever feel like the limited amount of time you have on earth, 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. 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 television. 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. Subjects that were taught for the purpose of understanding the world, its creatures, ourselves, and how all of it came together. It encouraged me to think. I enjoyed the continual 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. I ask a lot of questions, perhaps too many questions. Humanities and arts, however, had a fluidity that felt much more exciting.

I remember the first time this feeling washed over me, that was yet to bear a name. I was an undergraduate student in university and often hopped 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, off its axis. I was barely twenty and can hardly be faulted for my mischief.

Questioning religion was an unusual subject of conversation, even in learning institutions like the secular university I attended. Most of us grew up in christian homes; had been taught CRE(Christian Religious Education) from early primary school, and went to church every Sunday, or in my case, Saturday. Christianity and its principles were central to our worldview.

At the time, I had been unsure about my inclination toward religion. 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 lose my mind. There are things I just didn’t have 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 had morphed into a sort of anti-christianity, in my observation. 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 yet 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. No limitations. I had the permission to explore the world and all its wonders without the previous confines of christianity. I could now delve into 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 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 surged through me, from time to time. 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 ones and a single book of essays. I had also, finally, bought my very first Oxford English Dictionary, 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; and as I unpacked them on arrival, can hardly compare to the trying on of new clothes after a shopping spree. One difference between them, is you can’t satisfy the urge to consume the books 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? Or to make our own little globe: a unique microcosm, we can put together to return to when life gets drab, or hard to bear.

It is an act of living creatively. I wish it for everyone who gets to read this. 

Follow your curiosity, and find bliss.