“Not Carefree, but Curious”

There was a time I asked a lot of questions. I wonder why I stopped ?

Not the sort that slotted so easily into Google search boxes, such as “how to sleep better” or “what is the best productivity tool.” I mean genuine questions. The slow, reflective sort that don’t have easy answers—such as Why am I attracted to this person? or What if I went in a completely different direction? or even Am I actually happy, or just comfortable?

Recently, I’ve been thinking about where that version of me disappeared to—the curious one. I don’t believe I was ever carefree, not even as a kid. I was always conscious of responsibilities, deadlines, and repercussions. But I was curious. Very, restlessly curious.

At some point, I forgot to ask. Or perhaps, I forgot that I would receive answers. Life accelerated. Projects mounted. Weekdays merged into each other. Even happiness was something to mark on a list. “Took a vacation—done.” “Went through a series—done.” “Had an in-depth conversation—done.”

We live in a world where boredom is considered dangerous and slowness is frowned upon. But in this hustle culture, I’ve realized something troubling: We’re doing too much, feeling too little, and questioning almost nothing.

I began noticing it a few months ago—this muted dullness seeping in. My life was busy but my spirit was flat. Even the thrilling things—travel, achievements, new connections—had a faint tinge of déjà vu. I found myself asking, Is this it?

Not in the defeated sense. More in the what-have-I-missed sense.

And that brought me back to curiosity.

We don’t discuss curiosity nearly enough. Not the mental kind we employ to fix work issues, but the emotional curiosity required to live a more meaningful existence. The kind that poses questions like, What really gets me fired up? Why do I respond the way I do? Who am I becoming?

We exist as though we are running a race—toward achievement, safety, recognition. What if we were intended to live as though on a quest, however? Where each stage arrives with questions, knowledge, and change?

Along the way, we’ve lost sight of the fact that life was never supposed to be conquered. It was supposed to be discovered.

So how do we bring that flavor back?

Here are a few things I’ve been trying—not to escape life, but to make it more alive:

1. Ask “why” more often

Rather than autopilot through the day, I’ve started asking tiny questions. Why am I in a bad mood today? Why did that exchange linger with me? Why do I always forget to eat breakfast? These aren’t earth-shattering epiphanies. But they get me to slow down. They get me aware.

Curiosity begins with observation.

2. Do something “pointless”

I recently bought watercolors. I’m not a painter. I’m not even good. But there’s something beautiful in doing something with no result attached. No outcome, no productivity gain—just presence. Doing things for joy, not outcome, is a radical act in this world.

Maybe for you, it’s journaling, baking, stargazing, learning a new instrument, or just walking without a destination. Pointless things often bring the deepest meaning.

3. Unplug from the script

You know the script—the one that says by this age you should be married, by that age successful, and always available, online, efficient. Try breaking it in small ways. Say no to a meeting and yes to a book. Skip one weekend errand and sit in a café alone.

Small rebellions against the script help you reconnect with your rhythm.

4. Be a beginner again

We avoid new things because we hate feeling stupid. But beginner’s mind is deeply linked to curiosity. Try picking up something where you know nothing. It humbles you. It wakes up your brain. It reminds you what learning feels like.

Being bad at something is a great way to feel alive.

5. Slow down conversations

We’re in such a rush, even with the people we love. I’ve started asking different questions in conversations—What’s been on your mind lately? What’s something you’ve never told me? What memory do you revisit most? These questions surprise people. They break the routine. They invite stories.

Curiosity deepens connection.

But what about the unanswered questions?

Yes, there will be many. In fact, the more curious you become, the more questions you’ll have. Not everything gets a resolution. Not everything leads to clarity.

But that’s okay.

Living with unanswered questions doesn’t mean you’re lost. It means you’re awake.

The most interesting people I know are not the ones who’ve figured it all out. They’re the ones who are still exploring. Who allow life to surprise them. Who don’t tie their worth to a title or relationship or timeline. Who live with wonder, even when things are messy.

“Not carefree, but curious.”

That’s the life I’m trying to build now. One where I don’t pretend to have it all together, but where I stay open to what could be. Where I greet uncertainty with a tilted head, not clenched fists. Where I stop asking, When will it get easier? and start asking, What can I learn here?

We can’t all quit our jobs or move to the mountains or take a sabbatical. But we can shift the lens. We can find small ways to infuse the ordinary with questions, with awe, with rebellion against monotony.

Because life isn’t meant to be one long checklist.

It’s meant to be a collection of moments—noticed, questioned, felt.

So from today, I don’t want to be busy. I want to be curious.

Because it’s not about changing your life overnight.

It’s about changing the way you live it.