I love paradox.
It completely rips me open in awe.
How two opposing things can be true and right at once. At odds, together.
Just like the Moon completely covering the Sun.
I’ve been letting lots and lots flow through me these days and not doing so much about it. That feels new. I used to feel the pressure to take every single idea and immediately bulldoze it into a “thing”, without fully understanding it.
But things take time.
Just like I do.
I am constantly changing. I feel like a new person each week, maybe even each hour. And yet I feel more me than ever. Paradox.
Welcome to Living Curiously (previously Nature People Magic).
As I evolve, so do my creations. And if I’m really, really true to myself, Living Curiously has been the roots nourishing my incredible growth this whole time.
My intention is to share my curiosities and how Living Curiously has completely changed me for the better, to spark curiosity that nourishes your growth too. I’ll send weeklyish posts and bi-weekly guided embodiment practices to inspire living curiosity within you. Thank you (infinitely) for being here, curious one~
How can I know something to be true, so deeply in my bones, and yet it not be true yet?
To know love so deeply when they’re not even in my life.
To know what’s coming for me with no idea how I’ll come for it.
I’ve been recognizing my claircognizance — “an intuitive gift that involves gaining knowledge and insights without any apparent logical or sensory explanation.”
A gift that’s felt like a curse.
It used to drive me mad, how sure I feel about things that don’t exist yet.
My ego shaking in my boots, rattling the cages of my reality.
It doesn’t drive me so mad anymore, I just feel trust.
If I know it and it’s not here, then I must trust.
If this gift has offered anything, it’s taught me trust.
This is a miracle for a girl who’s impatience and controlling urges used to eat her alive. A girl who hardly trusted herself. What a cosmic joke.
But we get exactly what we need.
The antidote to my crippling self-doubt has (obviously) been self-trust.
Trust feels like patience, and patience feels grounded. They feel like acceptance. Meeting you where you are, while expanding you where you’re going. Paradox.
And what’s gotten me through it?
Curiosity. Of course.
Curiosity is iteration. Trying and failing and learning and growing.
Curiosity means being stuck behind a wall and remembering to look up at the open sky only to realize the wall isn’t that tall. Curiosity is looking left and right only to realize there’s a break in the wall just a few steps over.
Curiosity is asking “what if…” and “what else…”.
It’s being open to solutions when all you see is problems.
Trusting there’s more.
Curiosity leads you to a clue, which leads you to another clue, and all those clues are little treasures that lead you to bounty. Ahoy!
Curiosity is exploration and wonder. It’s open and inviting.
It’s pure awe.
Awe that rips you open only to reveal more of you experiencing more of life.
I once had a client remark that I often say “I’m curious…” before asking her questions. And how it made her feel seen, like I really did want to know more of her. And I really do.
Curiosity bridges us and heals us.
Curiosity yearns to know more and experience more. Curiosity doesn’t settle for less or stay stuck behind the wall (that isn’t that tall and has a hole in it, if you’re curious enough to look).
See, curiosity does this funny thing. It expands you as it grounds you. Paradox.
So does trust.
So maybe curiosity is trust too.
Whenever I’m in a rut, swirling in the tornado of my worst thoughts and harsh feelings, a total soup of a human, it’s always curiosity that says, “there’s more than this baby, wanna see?”
And then I remember I’m more than those thoughts and those feelings. I remember the sky is wider and the wall is smaller.
So I climb over the wall, and keep going.
Living Curiously changes you.
Living Curiously accepts you, trusts you, guides you.
Then you accept you, trust you, guide you.
And by living curiously, you grow, curiously.
What an absolute miracle.
Love,
Bry