The Exile of Curiosity

It is not arrogance that carries the curious into exile.
It is the weariness of endless translation,
between what is expected
and what might be accepted.

We see worlds assembled
from headlines and half-truths,
stitched with bias,
sealed in easy certainty.

And when the curious speak off-script…
the world goes quiet,
or murmurs darkly, as it sneers.

Some rush to answer,
most let the question slip away,
an invitation lost between the blinks.

The more we try to bridge that gap,
the more we feel the silence widen.

No one tells us:
once the mind has opened wider,
scripted phrases ring hollow,
their cadence polished,
their meaning drained.

The curious don’t long for assurance,
they long to breathe inside the unknown.

So the curious stop seeking companions
with all the answers.
They invite not-knowing as practice,
gathering instead with those
who rest in a beginner’s mind.

Curiosity becomes more than questioning,
it shifts the very posture of our being,
like yoga for the soul.

Hold only to familiar poses…
and the body hardens in stillness.

Cling only to confirming ideas…
and the mind calcifies.

Each new stretch,
of body,
of mind,
of spirit,
invites flow.

Curiosity is that movement,
the willingness to try a new shape,
to feel what another way of ‘seeing’
might open.

And though the world may not follow,
we move,
not to escape,
but to stay alive to what is possible.