Curiosity, Taxed

Photo by Eijat Darus on Unsplash

I’m taking a course called Creative Systems, and one of the things Kening Zhu talks about is resources and our relationship to them. She names the most obvious ones—time, energy, attention, inspiration—but she says a lot of things can be resources. When I heard that, the thought that hit me was: I’m rich in curiosity. It’s not just a trait, it’s the driver of much of my work.

Here’s what usually happens. I hear something or read something. I get curious about it. I go on a little tangent. Then I clamp it down. It’s not rabbit hole time now. It’s reading time. Or writing time. Or making dinner time. Besides, I’m not a procrastinator. I’m a disciplined writer. In other words, my curiosity comes with a guilt tax. Despite all of my work stemming from falling down rabbit holes, there’s still a voice in the back of my head going what if this doesn’t pan out?

Following curiosity, like mining a precious metal, isn’t free. It costs time, attention, headspace. Every rabbit hole is a tradeoff. But what I realised lately is that I add an extra layer of shame. What if the thread doesn’t lead anywhere? What if I waste my time? What if I end up not producing anything and being (gasp) a procrastinator? The cost is unavoidable: I can’t write (or make dinner) while I’m following a tangent. But the shame is completely optional. I’m still working on actually believing that.