Given my interest in growth and change, the New Year offers a natural segue for reflection. This year, my thinking about change centers on curiosity and experimentation. When we notice a gap between where we are and where we would like to be, the problem is rarely a lack of information. We generally know what to do. The difficulty lies in closing that gap—making time, setting priorities, finding the courage to face our fears, or even naming them in the first place. One way to address these challenges is to lean into curiosity, using our inquisitive nature to step around fear rather than confront it head-on.
We often rely on goals as our primary tool for change. Goals are clear, measurable, and familiar, which makes them feel responsible and effective. But for many of us, goals quietly create the very obstacles that keep us stuck. They tend to collapse a complex process into a single outcome, turning change into a test we either pass or fail. When we fall short, the result is not information but judgment. We don’t learn much beyond the sense that we didn’t do what we said we would.
Goals also pull us prematurely into the future. We imagine a version of ourselves who is already exercising regularly, eating better, or being more patient, and then measure our present selves against that imagined standard. The gap can feel discouraging or even threatening. Rather than motivating action, goals often activate fear—fear of failure, fear of disappointment, fear of confirming a story we already carry about ourselves. Faced with that pressure, avoidance becomes an understandable response.
Curiosity offers a different path. Instead of asking us to meet a standard, it invites us to ask a question. Questions don’t demand success; they invite engagement. They keep us oriented toward the present moment rather than an imagined future. Most importantly, questions turn outcomes into data rather than verdicts. Whatever happens becomes something we can learn from.
When we frame change through curiosity, we shift our relationship to the process itself. We move away from proving something about ourselves and toward discovering how we actually work. That shift—from evaluation to exploration—is what allows curiosity to function not just as a mindset, but as a durable engine for growth and change.
Suppose we’ve recognized a lack of physical activity as something we want to address. Rather than setting goals around this, “I’m going to exercise 4 days per week,” we framed it as a question, “How many times can I exercise in January?” After all, we do not, as of today, know the answer to that question. Maybe it will be in line with our four times per week idea, maybe not. Maybe we’ll do more? Maybe less? The point is, this is a question we could be genuinely curious to answer. Like a story when the ending is not known, we want to find out what happens.
Fast forward now to the end of January. During the month, we’ve been keeping track of exercise habits, and we find that we’ve been able to exercise 20 times. First, hopefully, we can give ourselves a pat on the back. But actually, while we’ve answered the first question, “How many times can I exercise in January?” There are a lot more questions that we could now ask. How has this made me feel? Have there been other benefits? Is this the right amount of exercise for me, or do I need more? Less? What was it that allowed me to exercise 20 times, when previously I have not been able to work out regularly? In answering these follow-up questions, we generate additional insight into what works for our particular circumstances, and we practice relating to ourselves through the lens of compassionate curiosity, rather than harsher judgement. The process also, almost automatically, invites us to explore the next question: How many times will I exercise in February?
On the other hand, suppose we get to the end of January, and rather than a lot of exercise, we’ve only able to do it 3 times. While that might be disappointing, a curiosity-based framework allows us to move away from recrimination and towards insight. The number becomes a departure point for inquiry and asking questions. If we set the intention to exercise regularly, and then find we are not able to make it happen, why not? What got in the way? Was it a lack of time? New priorities? Boredom? The more we can ask questions about this, the better answers we will get. The key part of this is to approach the fact that we have not gotten where we want to with a sense of non-judgmental curiosity and inquiry, rather than a sense of failure or blame. This result also leads to a natural follow-up question: How many times will I exercise in February?
The more curious we can be about the results we get, the more this allows us to move forward. If we surprise ourselves on the upside, that is a cause for reflection and learning. If we surprise ourselves on the downside, that is also a cause for reflection and learning. The learning will be different, but that’s a good thing. The point is to transform the process of change away from one based on success or failure, and into one of growth, learning, and discovery.
I’m using the example of exercise because it is something many people struggle with, and it's a relatively straightforward example, as far as behaviors go. But the idea extends much more broadly. Suppose our intention for the new year is to be more kind and loving towards our partner– we could follow the same process. We could track how many times we spontaneously say something kind, or how many times we intentionally practice being affectionate. The new direction could be being home at a better time in the evening, or eating less junk food, or being more present with our children, or spending more time with our parents. The framework is highly flexible. Whatever it is, there is learning to be had on the road to change.
When we try to move in a new direction, sometimes we will be successful and make progress, sometimes not. The point though, is that success is not final, and failure is not fatal. Each of those outcomes presents us with an opportunity for learning. The more insight we have into what works for us, and what gets in our way, the more we are able to make the changes we need to.
Love,
Doc
Forwarded this email? Sign-up here
See past posts here.