This month we are taking a fresh look at “Desert Island You,” exploring those values that remind you who you really are, free of the influence of loved ones or society. What do you like? Where do you find meaning? What are your passions?

So far, we have looked at the roles that Art, Music, and Story have played in creating your inner “fingerprint,” unique to you.

How did you learn about art and music and story in the first place? It all began with Curiosity.

“Curiosity is the strong desire to learn or know something new. It is the emotion that drives us to seek out information, explore new ideas, and ask questions.” – ProWritingAid.com

Sounds reasonable, right? But wait.

When we look at the adjective “curious,” we find there are two meanings. The second one comes loaded with a raised eyebrow.

cu·ri·ous

/ˈkyo͝orēəs/

1. eager to know or learn something, as in “I began to be curious about the whereabouts of the bride and groom.”
2. strange; unusual, as in “A curious sensation overwhelmed her.”

Similar: strange, odd, peculiar

(Courtesy of Oxford Languages.)

It takes courage to be curious.

When you’re curious about something, you risk being seen as: Strange. Odd. Peculiar. Stupid. Weird. “Not one of us.”

That’s why many people keep their personal taste in art and music and literature a secret— because we don’t want to be misunderstood, questioned, or worst of all, laughed at. We may keep these personal interests a secret for so long that we forget our own aesthetic likes and dislikes. That’s where Curiosity comes to the rescue. It encourages us to experiment, to oil up those rusty hinges in our heads and consider where we want our brains to play next.

What is the Price of Curiosity?

Can you afford to be curious?

What is at stake?

Can you comfortably say, “I don’t know”?

Are you afraid of being seen as stupid if you don’t understand something quickly?

Can you keep listening, even if you don’t understand everything they are explaining?

How does it feel to learn something more complicated than your current understanding?

Does being uncertain keep you from asking more questions?

Do you try to follow the rules so that you don’t make mistakes?

Have you ever made a mistake that ended up being a brilliant discovery?

Have you ever invented anything? If you did, does anybody else know about it?

Did your level of curiosity change from childhood through middle grades and into young adulthood? 

Would you say you still have a hungry mind?

When I was in school, I felt like I had to understand and retain everything immediately because there would be a test on it. School for me was stressful because I felt I had to know all the answers before the class began. I lived in dread of being laughed at or seen as dumb. This self-consciousness is summed up by a anecdote I once heard. “I don’t know if I was born in alcoholic, but I sure could have used a drink on the first day of kindergarten.”

Relentless Curiosity

Many people throughout history (those lucky ones without this self-consciousness) have been so driven to explore, invent, experiment, that curiosity and learning became their closest companions. If you could spend a week with a brilliant person you admire, one who was alive decades ago, who would that person be?

Would it be an artist, a musician, an author, or a playwright? If so, which one?

Perhaps a scientist, an inventor, or explorer? If so, which one?

A member of royalty, a statesperson, a diplomat, or a peacemaker? If so, which one?

If you thought of more than one, then for no extra cost to you, you can pick several and spend a week with each one. Or give Leonardo da Vinci a try.

Artist, scientist, medical researcher, engineer, inventor, mathematician, optical researcher, and philosopher. His relentless curiosity allowed him (or drove him) to study and explore deeply in many areas of interest.

But Curiosity Takes Time!

I realize we all have daily, weekly, monthly chores that eat up much of our time. Things like work, family, home care, personal care. I get it.

Even so, with the remaining minutes of your waking week, what if you were to take a break from mindlessly browsing social media and streaming random entertainment? What would you like to focus on instead, just for the next month?

I asked myself this very question yesterday.

Part of my eyesight is finally returning after challenging eye surgery and several weeks of severely blurred vision in my one functional eye. It was a scary experience, so I have decided my focus for the rest of my life will be to “produce a body of work (watercolor) in whatever time I have left to see.” That’s ambitious, daunting really, so I am going to break it down into weekly milestones.

Those milestones will include reintegrating the aforementioned films and social media into my practice, but with an intentionally discerning focus. For inspiration, I have bookmarked links to films about John Singer Sargent, J.M.W. Turner, Vincent Van Gogh, and Leonardo da Vinci. I am also studying the generous offerings of Oliver Pyle, a brilliant contemporary English watercolorist whose passionate teaching approach is as methodical and comprehensive as my beloved first watercolor teacher back in 1986.

There are hundreds of watercolorists offering online classes, so I asked myself, “Of all the watercolor styles, whose paintings make me smile and gasp in amazement? Which skills do I aspire to learn? Is there someone whose painting style I admire, whose teaching style is equally attractive to me? Which artist will hold my curiosity?” Oliver Pyle’s online offerings checked all the boxes for me.

Unbridled curiosity has so much potential for good in the world.

I wonder how different our world would feel if we were less afraid of saying, “I don’t know,” and if instead we were free to be curious. What would it be like if our unbridled enthusiasm actually showed on the outside? Perhaps we would give those loved ones around us permission to have their own areas of enthusiastic curiosity, too.

There are so many things in the world at the moment that feel heavy, challenging, desperately important. I don’t disagree with that, but unless we have a place to go to refill our souls, our spirits may be running on empty very soon.

It’s time to befriend “desert island you.”

Get to know which films would uplift you each evening rather than watching shows that merely kill time before you collapse into bed exhausted.

What might you learn about in the coming week that would put a little smile on your face?

Learn to focus on what is good, what is true, what is beautiful, what is worthy of your enthusiasm.

Risk being seen as “curious”: strange, odd or peculiar.

I assure you, you’ll meet the most fascinating people in that neighborhood.

~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you enjoyed this essay. Click on the “Word Cloud” at the right if you’d like to read more about a specific topic. Feel free to forward any of them to friends and family members who might enjoy them.

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As always, thanks for spending some time with me “aloft.” Happy gazing and sketching!