Curiosity

I recently got to hang out at the beach with seven 15 year olds. When I say hang out, I mean I got to wander the beach awkwardly while they sat around the fire eating chips. 

Haeden, my favorite teenager because we have exactly the same attention span, not only coined a fabulous new idiom (He's not the smartest cracker in the box), but he is also the one who came to get me before they burnt the Christmas tree. I'm pretty sure this had nothing to do with the safety of the group and everything to do with the fact that I'd be willing to hold the top of the tree while he held the bottom. This was not a plan that lasted long.

We both got slightly distracted walking back the beach with catching varmints in the tide pools. I had a cup so it was just like beach day with the third graders, except I didn't have to bother with kids. Haeden and I caught several awesome creatures. Okay, Haeden caught the eel and crab because they tried to bite my finger off. I caught the sea star and glob of eggs. Actually, I caught two globs of eggs.

I commented that I couldn't catch the eel and crab because my eyesight isn't what it used to be. Haeden mentioned that I was slow and loud and those might be contributing factors too. Still my favorite.

So, we had a cupful of critters to show the others. 

After lighting the tree on fire, which was exciting and involved several new revelations about how fire moves up, I decided that I wanted to see if the eggs were herring eggs and if they were good roasted. 

I think it is important to model curiosity to youth. I can stare into a tide pool for hours watching critters. I can do a backflip when the sea star moves swiftly away from the crab. Who knew they could move so fast? 

I can roast a small glob of eggs over a fire and eat them in front of teenagers. Instant hero. They were gross, though, and I spit them out.

Then something magical happened in the cup. 


All the eggs in the other glob started to hatch and the cup was filled with bubbles and new life. Little eyeballs bursting forth. We all gathered around the cup with horror and awe. I probably have a couple of those critters swimming in my gut right now. For just a moment, all coolness and ennui was set aside, and we were enthralled by this new life erupting. And then they told me I had to return them to the water. It was the responsible thing to do and they could return to discussing whatever fifteen year olds discuss without adults present. 

I remember an interview several years ago with Senator Murkowski about whether she thought Sarah Palin would make a good president and her answer was something like, "She lacks the curiosity to be a great leader." It might have been a diplomatic way to say something else, but I'll take it at face value and agree that leaders need curiosity more than certainty.

That's a hard sell in our current climate. I don't think education focuses on stimulating curiosity. Curiosity takes time, patience, and a willingness to be uncomfortable. Politics does not encourage curiosity. Our attention span has grown so short that entering into the complexity of systems is nearly impossible. And religion isn't much better. People want answers that are tidy and comfortable.

My glob was much smaller, but
if you look closely you can see
their eyeballs.

Sometimes I think the best I can do as a parent and a pastor is encourage folks to be observant and ask good questions. Be patient enough to watch what is going on around you, make some connections, and wonder about life. Certainty normally involves creating idols. Curiosity is often more in the groove of entering the mystery of God and the universe. 

I thought about roasting a limpid and eating it too, but it had latched onto my hand and I felt much more emotionally attached. I know what those taste like anyway. They were part of the first meal I ever made Kirt. I had to make sure he'd be up for adventure.