The Beautiful Curse of Being Curious
When curiosity becomes constant wandering, we must learn to anchor ourselves—or risk getting lost in our own minds.”
Hey you,
It’s been a minute, okay, more like a whole month and some change. I didn’t mean to go quiet for this long, but life, in its usual unscripted fashion, pulled me into a pause. I’ve missed writing here, and I’ve missed this little corner where my thoughts meet yours. And while I’ve been away, so much has been unfolding quietly behind the scenes: moments of stillness, mental clutter, and the kind of reflection that makes you question and reframe everything.
But today, I’m here. I’m writing again. And I’m glad you’re here too.
And with that said, here’s where my mind (and heart) have been lately.
I’ve always been passionately curious.
That kind of curiosity that doesn’t just ask “why” but needs to know what’s behind the why, and what’s behind that, too. This passionate and sincere curiosity strikes a chord inside of me, one I can’t quite mute. It’s how I’ve discovered the world, unearthed parts of myself, and expanded my vision beyond anything I was taught. Curiosity has been my compass, especially in moments when nothing else seemed to make sense.
But here’s what no one tells you about being passionately curious: it can take you everywhere except home.
The same trait that fuels my ideas and creativity also scatters my focus. I find myself digging deep into one topic, only to abandon it halfway when something shinier, deeper, or more mysterious comes along. It’s not always intentional. It’s how I’m wired.
However, it leaves a trail of half-finished projects, unread tabs, partially acquired knowledge, and questions that only lead to more questions.
I try to learn something about everything, but despite the beauty in this, there is also a restlessness in this kind of mind.
And if you're anything like me, you know how easy it is to drift, to chase sparks but forget the fire you were tending.
Sometimes, curiosity becomes a clever disguise for avoidance. A sweet way to delay discomfort. A reason not to finish what we started.
Other times, it's a painful reminder that we can’t possibly explore it all.
So what do we do with this double-edged sword?
We don’t stop being curious, because that would be killing a part of our soul.
But we learn to guide it, to give it a rhythm.
We ask ourselves:
Is this curiosity nourishing me or distracting me?
Am I exploring, or am I escaping?
Do I need to finish one thing before I start another?
I won’t pretend I’ve figured it out because I haven’t.
I’m still learning to focus, to return to things.
To firmly close the circles I’ve opened before opening a new one.
But one thing I know for sure: curiosity is not the enemy.
It just needs a home base.
And just maybe, discipline is the home that keeps our wild minds safe.
Because curiosity without structure is like fire without a hearth, it burns bright, but it also burns everything in its path.
Discipline doesn’t kill curiosity; it contains it.
It gives it a place to unfold without unraveling us.
It says, “Yes, go there. But come back here. Finish this. Honor what you started.”
We often think discipline is rigid, even cold at times. But in truth, it’s an act of care.
A way of holding ourselves steady in a world of infinite ideas, infinite distractions, infinite chaos, and infinite doors to open.
Discipline teaches us to build something from our curiosity, not just chase it.
It’s how we make our way back to unfinished notebooks, paused dreams, and half-buried passions. It’s what allows us to create meaning instead of only consuming it.
“Curiosity is a wild mind and a disciplined eye.” — Dorothy Parker
I’ve learned that when I set a rhythm, return to my desk at the same time, focus on one thing at a time, say “not yet” to distractions, my curiosity doesn’t dim.
It sharpens and deepens, giving space for productivity
Now my curiosity has somewhere to land.
Isn’t that what we all are really craving?
Not just the rush of learning something new, but the peace of bringing something full circle.
The kind of peace that comes not from knowing everything, but from honoring the few things that matter most right now.
So here’s to disciplined curiosity.
To finishing what we start.
To making homes for all the wild ideas trying to live through us.
What’s something your curiosity led you to start but never finish? Would you return to it if you made space today?
Thank you for helping us understand the need for disciplined curiousity.
I've missed reading from you 😩
I look forward to more