Curiosity Doesn't Care Which Way the Pages Are Facing
One of my favourite childhood memories begins on my very first day of primary school.
Like many children, I came home bursting with excitement.
I was a "big school girl" now.
I had survived my first day.
I was certain I knew all about reading.
My mum had always filled our home with books.
Not just storybooks, although there were plenty of those too.
There were books about art.
History.
Nature.
Science.
Astronomy.
And one enormous book that fascinated me more than all the others.
It was about Ancient Egypt.
Huge.
Heavy.
Filled with magnificent temples, pyramids, hieroglyphs and treasures that seemed impossibly mysterious to a little girl.
I climbed onto the lounge, proudly opened the book...
...upside down.
And then I began to read.
Or at least, I believed I was reading.
With complete confidence, I pointed to one of the illustrations and enthusiastically told my mum a very detailed story about a cat.
The only problem was...
The page wasn't about a cat at all.
In fact, none of it had anything to do with what I was saying.
I couldn't read yet.
The book was upside down.
And I was making up the entire story.
My mum, to her credit, let me finish.
I suspect she was trying very hard not to laugh.
Before We Know the Answers
I've thought about that afternoon many times over the years.
At first, it's simply a funny family story.
But the older I become, the more I realise there was something rather beautiful happening.
I didn't know how to read.
I didn't know anything about Ancient Egypt.
But I desperately wanted to.
Curiosity had arrived long before knowledge.
Looking back, I think that's true of almost everything we ever learn.
Before we understand geology, we pick up a rock.
Before we understand the stars, we look up.
Before we understand music, we hum along.
Before we understand gardening, we plant a seed.
The desire to know almost always comes first.
Every Expert Was Once a Beginner
Sometimes I think we forget that.
We admire people who seem knowledgeable.
Scientists.
Artists.
Writers.
Historians.
Jewellers.
Gardeners.
We see what they know today.
We rarely see the child who once held the book upside down.
Every expert began with uncertainty.
With questions.
With mistakes.
With moments of getting things gloriously wrong.
Learning has never been about already knowing.
It has always been about being willing to begin.
Questions Built My World
That upside-down book never really left me.
As I grew older, my fascination with Ancient Egypt expanded into a love of history.
History led to archaeology.
Archaeology led to geology.
Geology led to crystals and fossils.
One question led to another.
Books became companions.
Museums became places of endless wonder.
Conversations became classrooms.
The more I learnt, the more I realised how much there was still waiting to discover.
That's one of the reasons I created The Enchantress Journal.
Not because I have all the answers.
Quite the opposite.
Because I love asking questions.
And I have a feeling many of you do too.
There Is Joy in Not Knowing
Somewhere along the way, many of us begin to fear not knowing.
We worry about asking the wrong question.
Looking inexperienced.
Getting something wrong.
Children rarely have that concern.
They ask "why?" with remarkable confidence.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Perhaps that's one of the reasons they learn so quickly.
They're not embarrassed by curiosity.
They embrace it.
I've tried very hard to hold onto that.
Not because I enjoy being wrong.
But because every question opens another door.
Every conversation offers another perspective.
Every book introduces another world.
And every mistake reminds us that learning is still taking place.
Holding the Book the Right Way
Eventually, of course, I learnt to read.
I even learnt to hold the book the right way up.
But in many ways, I'm still that little girl.
Still fascinated by ancient civilisations.
Still captivated by museums.
Still looking up at the stars.
Still picking up interesting rocks.
Still asking far more questions than I can answer.
And I hope I always will.
Because I've come to believe that curiosity isn't something we grow out of.
It's something we choose to keep alive.
A Moment to Reflect
Can you remember the first thing that truly fascinated you?
Dinosaurs?
Space?
Birds?
Trains?
Ancient history?
Perhaps that childhood fascination never really disappeared.
Perhaps it simply grew up alongside you.
Sometimes the things that capture our imagination as children quietly become the passions that shape our lives.
And perhaps curiosity has never cared which way the pages are facing.