On softening our edges when the world hardens ours
The other Sunday, three of us — old friends bound by years of half-kept plans — finally met for breakfast. The table was a comforting chaos of chatter, steaming coffee, and laughter. But midway through our conversation, one friend began to open up about a series of difficult turns his life had taken. His voice wavered between exhaustion and hope. As he spoke, I noticed something subtle — each of us had started offering suggestions, analyzing his choices, weighing what he “should have” done.
And suddenly, it struck me — we weren’t really listening. We were judging, gently perhaps, but judging nonetheless. In our attempt to help, we had lost curiosity.
That moment stayed with me for days. I wondered why it’s so easy to replace wonder with certainty, or empathy with analysis. Somewhere in our journey from childhood to adulthood, we begin to believe that understanding means having answers. But real understanding begins with questions — the kind that have no agenda, no rush, no conclusion to reach.
Over time, I’ve realized that curiosity ages faster than we do. The natural wonder we had as children often gets masked by our worldly conditioning — by the need to be right, efficient, or in control. To reclaim it in later years, we must treat curiosity as a discipline. It has to be practiced until it becomes a quiet instinct once again.
Curiosity doesn’t demand agreement. It simply asks, “What might this look like from their window?” Judgment shuts the door; curiosity keeps it slightly open — just enough for light to enter.
Here are three gentle practices that help me stay anchored in curiosity. I’m still learning to make it my second nature — and I’d love to know what helps you, too.
1. Listen without preparing a reply.
When someone speaks, resist the urge to fix or label. Let their words breathe. Sometimes silence does more healing than advice.
2. Ask open-ended questions.
Instead of “Why did you do that?” try “What made you feel this was right then?” The shift in tone turns interrogation into invitation.
3. Observe before concluding.
Whether it’s a disagreement, a social post, or your own emotion — pause before forming an opinion. The pause itself is wisdom in disguise.
Curiosity doesn’t make life easier, but it makes it gentler. It teaches us that people are more than their choices, and life is more than our interpretations of it.
Perhaps that’s the quiet magic of curiosity — it softens the edges of judgment until what remains is simple human understanding.
Letters for the Inner Journey by Pushkar
