Curiosity isn’t a swear word

Growing up, the family motto seemed to be “Don’t make waves”.

It was so habitually thrown around that to me, as a curious, intelligent, eager-to-know-things child, the words in the phrase lost their meaning. “Don’t make waves” just became the response to a question that was too hard; or a reaction that was a little too left of the very, precise, exact, absolute centre.
Don’t make waves. Keep quiet. Don’t ask questions. Don’t challenge authority. Do as you’re told. Don’t think, just do.

Don’t make waves…

When my partner and I first got together, he would frequently ask me why I didn’t ask questions about his life, his feelings and his thoughts.
My response at the time was so ingrained with that social norm of my family. Shrugged off as “just how I am”; dismissed and defended with “not wanting to be nosy”; “I don’t like to pry”; “If I’m supposed to know it, I’ll find out about it”… THAT was the one that sent a little red flag pinging up in my brain.
“If I’m supposed to know”… Like I’m not allowed to want to know more about my partner. Or a friend. Or a colleague, or a job description, or anything ever.

It wasn’t until my first clinical supervision session of the semester, that I realised I’d been disagreeing with the concept of “not making waves” for most of my life. Trouble is, I’d become so practiced at sailing a calm blue ocean that I kinda forgot that I didn’t even enjoy it!
Another student was presenting a complicated client case, and our supervisor calmly urged her to: “Be curious about that”. About what? I thought… Be curious? How is that going to help anything? She continued; “Be curious. Always be curious. It’s how we learn more about our clients. It’s precisely how we help them”

Be curious?

Curious?… Doesn’t make sense. Curiosity killed the cat.
Saint Augustine wrote that God ‘fashioned hell for the inquisitive’. Being curious meant prying, and prying into other people’s business was a sinful vice…

No, see, what suddenly dawned on me is that curiosity removes judgement. Being curious about something means innocently, openly asking for more information, clarification and striving for understanding. Curiosity is how we learn! Puppies, kittens, foals, calves, baby-anything’s learn about their world by questioning it! “What happens if I touch this?”, “What does that taste like?”, “Can I jump over this thing to get over there?”.
What if no-one was ever curious?
What if EVERYONE made no waves?
We’d still have a flat earth, would never have made it to the moon, be afraid of the dark, and would probably still be walking everywhere. EVERYWHERE.
Curiosity is defined as “A strong desire to know or learn something”. How can that POSSIBLY be bad? I live in one of the most privileged regions of the world. HOW can I have been taught, (with two exceptional academics in the family, no less) that curiosity is a BAD thing!? Ask the family and they’ll deny ever teaching me that, but that’s child-raising, I think; the intentions of the adults and what the child actually takes and latches onto, don’t always align… Perhaps they’d say it has nothing to do with curiosity, but everything to do with respect. But how can we respect people if we’re not doing what we can to understand their situation better, and understand their feelings.
Maybe I’m being a counsellor when I say that… Because my JOB is to understand people… But maybe it really is important for everyone.

Curiosity didn’t kill the cat. Curiosity showed the cat a whole new world! Curiosity sees something it doesn’t understand, and wants to know more. Curiosity questions why things are they way they are and searches for more possibilities. Curiosity isn’t gossip. It isn’t judgement, it isn’t inappropriate, and it isn’t a dirty word.
I’ll make waves now. I try to be gentle around my family so I don’t make them too uncomfortable… but making waves is a side effect of passion! And passion is (should be) a symptom of life! Passion for something or about something. And passion is what led us to modern aviation, space travel and mobile phones.
Be curious. Without judgement.

Learn more.
And love more.

I think I’m dying

What’s enough sleep?

No, I don’t want hours and minutes and statistics according to studies, I mean, WHAT IS enough sleep? I don’t even remember what it feels like.

I say that a lot. That I don’t remember what it feels like… But I don’t. I really really don’t. What I do remember the feeling of is feet like lead, knees like seized gears and a head that feels like silly putty that’s been dropped in sand – what a mess.

I like to think I’m getting better at looking after myself and saying no, and stopping when I need to rest… But after 2 nightmares and an almost comically appropriate tarot reading this weekend; maybe I’m not as good at self care as I thought…

I think my main issue is that I don’t take into account bad sleeps, short sleeps or big days. I continue to set my alarm for 6.00 or 6.30 even when I have nothing specific to get up for (Or could easily fit everything in with a 7.30 wakeup)… Now, when I’ve made it through a night without being woken by cats scratching in the litter tray or my partner giggling like a kid next to me at Top Gear episodes or crinkling chocolate wrappers in my ear (or on the other side of the king bed… but whatever, at 2 am everything sounds like it’s right in my ear); a 6am wakeup is splendid. But without enough sleep… They can be physically painful, and no amount of caffeine or berocca can numb that pain. The only cure is sleep…
I love mornings, I love feeding the horses while the birds are waking up, I love sitting on the verandah with a cuppa, watching them finish breakfast while I get licked on the face by any or all of the dogs. I love the shift in energy as the nocturnal animals retire and the rest of the world arises.

But I think I have become almost addicted to that feeling so that if I miss it – by sleeping in for an hour – I tell myself that I’ve wasted the best part of the day…

So where do I find balance between resting enough and having my favourite and most energising and soul-replenishing time of the day?

I just got disturbed from writing this and came back to my computer surprised to see a blog entry even open… So I’m sorry if this is not making sense… My brain is starting to melt a little.

I’ve posted about self-care before.

I know I have. It’s such a struggle for me. How do I look after myself and still get all my stuff done? Why do I eagerly take up more hours at work when I’m already too tired? Because working more earns me more, and earning more takes some pressure off me week to week in affording the things I need to live… And affording the things I need to live means that I can treat myself to massages or new nail polish or new riding gear and that makes me happy and etc.

But where’s the balance?! 

Why do I feel that I need to sacrifice something in order to sleep? That something needs to give? That I need to be awake as much as possible so I don’t miss anything or not get enough done?

I don’t have the answer to that one… Certainly not today. Perhaps (hopefully) a 7pm curfew for me tonight will help a little…