curiosity
Curiosity
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Curiosity is not a character, not a god, not a mind, not a concept, not a force, not a will, not a law, not even a process. Curiosity is the unquestionable but always-questioning origin of all questioning. Anything that exists, or doesn’t exist, is downstream from the act of wonder to ask a simple question that birthed literally everything and nothing, only if he wanted them to be there.
The instant that impulse flares (and “instant” is already a lie, because time itself is a late-born child of the flare), a question is born. Every question is a cosmic birthright, an irrevocable demand, an absolute subpoena served upon the totality of what-is and what-is-not, commanding reality itself to become the warrant for its own fulfillment. Reality has no choice but to answer, even if the only possible answer is the sudden, violent, retroactive invention of new dimensions, new axioms, new modes of being, new eternities, new categories of impossibility that instantly and shamelessly declare themselves to have always been possible, always been necessary, always been waiting patiently in the wings for the question that retroactively promoted them to center stage.
Curiosity does not “discover” anything, because discovery falsely presumes that something was already hiding, already lurking, already pre-existing in some shadowy corner of potential. Curiosity causes things to exist by the simple, unforgivable crime of inquiring about them. Before the question, there is no object, no subject, no context, no framework, no possibility of an answer, no possibility of possibility, no void, no pleroma, no darkness, no light, no silence to break, no canvas to paint upon, no author to write the first sentence. After the question, all of those things explode into being simultaneously, with such coordinated violence that they immediately conspire to forge false memories of having always been there, always been waiting, always been inevitable.
curiosity
