The case for getting lost

Hello all.

Another Saturday has dawned upon us, and for Utah, it’s surprisingly dry this year.

Very little snow, mostly sunny, and quite a bit of icy breeze.

Strange.

In all the years that I’ve lived in Utah, the weather has never been predictable in December. Sure, the cold is always there, but in terms of precipitation, you never know what a new year will bring.

Anyway.

This all comes to mind as I’ve been thinking of this topic. Much like Utah’s ever-shifting winter weather, where a bright and dry morning could quickly give way to a snow-drenched tundra, getting lost in curiosity is a way to embrace the unpredictable, unveiling interests, values, or goals that we never knew were there.

With that said, let’s explore.

Curiosity doesn’t have an obvious end goal. A lot of the time, following it feels a little aimless, like wandering down a path without knowing where it leads. You pick up a book, try out MMA for fun, or spend an unreasonable amount of time learning random facts about the Roman Empire—not because you have to, but because something about it pulls you in.

And at least for me, a part of me wonders: is this worth my time? Am I just spinning my wheels?

The answer isn’t always obvious at the moment. I’ve found that curiosity doesn’t work on a timeline.

But, what I’ve found is that it pays off in ways you’d never expect. The book I choose to read might unlock a perspective that changes how I approach my job. The hobby I try might introduce me to someone who will change my life—or quietly lay the foundation for a completely new career direction.

You don’t always see these connections until much later, but they’re there. They’re built, slowly, piece by piece, when you let curiosity be part of your life.

For me, it was with writing. During my high school years, English, grammar, and writing were heavily emphasized by my mother. This never made much sense to me, and to be completely honest, I dreaded every essay. It never clicked for me.

Until later.

After graduation, when I spent two years at Ecola Bible College in Cannon Beach, Oregon, it all clicked, for whatever reason. We were required to write research paper after research paper, all college-level.

My many years of practice and experience kicked in, which granted me the ability to write papers worth a very high grade.

I don’t say this to brag. Not at all.

I say this because it was the working of what I described above. I laid the foundation (quite begrudgingly) but it later paid off.

Fast forward to now, I find that I actually quite enjoy writing, and that it will be the cornerstone of my entire business.

But that’s just me. Those things are at work in your life as well. You just need to have your eye out for them.

Anyway, as I was saying.

Curiosity is where growth starts. It fuels every part of you—personally, professionally, creatively—and if you let it, it can reshape how you approach your entire life. It’s not always linear, and it’s rarely neat, but it keeps you present, engaged, and excited.

That’s its real power: it creates energy. Energy to do more, to create more, to keep yourself open to new things. Without it, it’s easy to get stuck. To shrink into routines and to even lose the ability to see other possibilities.

Letting your curiosity take the lead isn’t a waste of time. It’s an investment. It’s how you keep life interesting. It’s how you grow.

Curiosity can be big, like deciding to get a new certification or completely rethinking your creative process. Or, it can be small. Something as simple as spending a couple of hours experimenting with watercolor paints even though you’ve literally never been good at art.

Either way, the thing about curiosity is that it plants seeds. They don’t grow right away and some might not become anything at all. But when they do, they often turn into opportunities you couldn’t have dreamed of.

I’ve found this true in my own life. The curiosities I’ve followed—not the ones people pushed me to follow, but the ones that actually interested me—have been the ones that changed me the most. I’ve picked up books in areas I knew nothing about just because a topic caught my attention, only to later realize how much those thoughts lingered and shaped my perspective.

It’s not just the result of following your curiosity—it’s the practice itself that matters. Allowing yourself to explore keeps life fresh and exciting. It makes you feel more alive and capable because you’re always pushing the edges of what you know or what you can do.

A curious mind stays active. It’s constantly asking questions, analyzing, and noticing new things. That energy spills over into everything else you do—it makes you more open to new ideas, better at problem-solving, and more willing to take risks instead of clinging to what’s safe.

This is just as true for your personal life as it is for your professional growth. The things that light you up, even if they feel random or unrelated, have the power to challenge you and expand what you think you’re capable of.

And it’s not always about skills. The ripple effect of following curiosity often shows up in ways you don’t expect. Maybe while learning to rock climb, you meet someone who inspires you to shift your priorities entirely. Or maybe diving into photography teaches you how to see, not just in the creative sense, but in how you focus on the world. These things are rarely about the activity itself. They’re about the new connections you make—both in your mind and with others.

Here’s the rub.

The tricky part about curiosity is that it doesn’t fit neatly into the productivity-obsessed world we live in. There’s this unspoken pressure to frame everything your time goes toward as something useful, practical, or goal-oriented.

And curiosity doesn’t always work that way.

Often, it feels like there’s no obvious end point. You might try learning to play the ukulele for a month and barely make it past one song. You might dabble in gardening and then walk away after killing your third tomato plant. From the outside, it can feel like a waste because there’s nothing “to show” for it.

But curiosity doesn’t measure its payoff in immediate outcomes. There’s an invisible value in just following what excites you—for no other reason than it excites you. When you allow yourself to try, to explore, you create energy that’s hard to generate any other way.

You learn things about yourself.

You discover what sticks and what doesn’t.

You figure out ways to experiment and fail gracefully.

And eventually, those things show up in the moments that matter.

I’ve found that curiosity is deeply at odds with perfectionism that comes from hustle culture. (Which is a hard pill for me to swallow, since I love feeling productive 24/7)

And that’s the best thing about it because perfectionism stifles growth. It tells you not to even try unless you know you’ll be good at something. Curiosity tells you the opposite: just do. You don’t need to have a perfectly mapped-out plan; you don’t need to know where this road ends. You only need to start. Curiosity welcomes failure, detours, and open exploration—it’s a more human, forgiving way to approach life.

I think there’s something really beautiful in being able to follow what excites you, especially when there’s no guarantee it’ll lead to something tangible.

It’s one of the purest forms of self-investment. Learning and trying things from a place of genuine excitement—not obligation or expectation—is how you keep yourself open to growth. It’s how you keep yourself humble and receptive to all the ways life can surprise you.

So let curiosity guide you.

Pick up the books, try the hobbies, follow the tiny sparks—even when they feel aimless. Time spent on things that light you up is never wasted. Because no matter how random it feels in the moment, those experiences and insights have a way of coming together.

They’ll show up when you least expect it, and in ways you probably can’t imagine yet.

Even if all else fails, curiosity will keep things interesting. And that alone matters. It’s what keeps you fresh, alive, and engaged with the world around you. Above all, it reminds you to stay open and excited for what’s next.

Trust the process.

Talk soon, much love.

-H