Learning about Newton’s Third Law at age six did not feel right. It was quite painful.
“For every action, there is an equal but opposite reaction,” will never be forgotten and deserves further appreciation. However, at that very moment, I wish it did not exist.
Curiosity typically lends itself as an appropriate accessory to a prison cell for many, but my sentencing was a hospital room, laced with echoes of an aunt constantly reminding me of my actions and the consequences that followed.
After hitting a point of acceptance, I had to agree; I was indeed wrong for not listening. I had decided touching a 350-degree stove was no longer on my to-do list, but I had to admit, I needed to know.
I was able to tune my aunt out and take it all in, finally. Staring at my hand, I made several observations, and my old curiosity was replaced with a new one, burning, literally burning, with a sensation to know.
Although I was crying the whole time, I was able to cover other curious questions that came from the situation once confronted by the doctor. I needed to know why skin turned orange, why it felt like it was melting away and why it smelled like the nastiest popcorn ever.
I don’t remember the answers, but I remember doing a deeper investigation which began with questioning every single person I knew. It satisfied my urge to know. Never-ending curiosity is not the worst attribute to possess — it is the passion behind inventions, the reason talk shows exist, new eras begin and newspapers generate content. It’s all to feed humanity’s need to collect intellectual data and apply it to new experiences.
However, spastic curiosity is my number one enemy, taking over whenever I’m assigned complicated tasks. This curiosity is the worst to have, because it comes from nowhere. All of a sudden you find yourself searching for things that have nothing to do with the task at hand.
Google elevated this disorder, and at a prospectively superficial level, I think it’s a horrible invention created to distract me. That is, despite it being my number one resource to support decisions.
I hope to one day discontinue this unhealthy habit so that I can benefit from principal focus. This will help maximize my time much more efficiently.
But it’s a hard habit to break, having been raised with such a whimsical way to look at the world. Thanks to Disney, which developed the minds of little girls to believe, yes, curiosity will get you into a little trouble from time to time, but in the end, it will all work out. This is a very naïve way to look at the world.
However, I must say, I did pull one thing out of this unique spirit transferred to us. We cannot stop searching for the reasons for our existence. Not only at an individual level, but as one. We are artifacts of the world. Furthermore, representatives of time. So, if curiosity drives us to learn, we must embrace it, even if it’s dysfunctional sometimes.
Even after a burned hand, a few accidents and many stitches, I appreciate the complexities behind curiosity. The world around us changes every day. So, it’s our responsibility to accept this and be curious, because it is our home. This way of looking at the world helped me grow from my experience and take things for how they are.
It has created a stronger individual over the years. This perspective forced me to realize that life is not to be scrutinized, but lived, while collecting experiences and passing along lessons learned.
So the next burn I get, I’ll remember how it all started — although I’ll still be in pain.
