Standing in Curiosity, or One Impossible Thing at a Time

I have served many an engineering team over the years, and to a person, all have known this:

Erin Randall loves Patrick Stewart, especially when he captains the Enterprise as Captain Jean-Luc Picard.

For the record, my husband has graciously agreed to step aside should I ever be able to convince Patrick Stewart that I am indeed his Number One. Thus far, sadly, that has not happened.

Then, earlier this year, a miracle happened: Stewart reprised his role as Picard. I waited as long as I could, but then….I could wait no more. In late August, I let myself watch all of the new “Picard” series as a birthday present to myself. Within three evenings, I’d watched the series in its entirety. Twice. Hugh was back, as was Seven of Nine and several other familiars. It was glorious.

Now might be a good time for me to give a partial explanation about the title of this post. “One impossible thing at a time” is a line from episode four. But what does curiosity have to do with impossibilities, and why on earth am I going on and on about Star Trek when I generally write about coaching and metaphors and questions? What makes it impossible for me to stand in curiosity?

The Impossibility of (My) Curiosity

For me, curiosity is anything but easy. I like to know the answer. I like to give answers. I like to be the smartest one in the room. I like to be right. I have to fight to get to curiosity and then fight even harder to stay in curiosity. I ask good questions, heck I even teach how to ask questions, but even I know that I’m too much head and not enough heart. Curiosity often feels insurmountable, that impossible thing for me to climb.

The other day, I watched a coaching session that brought me a great deal of joy. First, because those 15 minutes were clearly of such use, such value to the person being coached, and secondly, because the coach did wonderful, beautiful work. They stayed in curiosity, played with curiosity and questions, and had such a light, deft touch. I was so proud of both the coachee as well as the coach. I know how hard that coach works—and continues to work—to be able to model a session like that. And yes, I was a tiny bit envious of them as well. They made it look so…easy.

What is it about curiosity that makes it so integral, so necessary, to my work as a coach?

What Does Curiosity Give Us?

For coaches and practitioners of curiosity, we know that it gives us gifts such as these:

• Disruption—Curiosity breaks up old habits, old patterns of thinking, moving us into a more open, growth-oriented mindset.

• Growth mindset—Open mindsets are possible mindsets, ones where anything can happen. When we’re in such an open mindset, we find ways forward that were not previously there.

• Better relationships—When someone is genuinely curious about another person or situation, they want to know, not judge. Relationships built on trust and connection are healthier, better able to withstand storms.

• Better conversations—Curious conversations are interesting, not stale and expected. Biases are forgotten, resulting in better overall communication.

• Resilience—Curiosity leads to exploration which leads to creativity. Tough situations become something to find a way through, not becoming a disastrous event.

That’s quite the list, and I’m adding to it all the time.

Curiosity and Coaching

I so wish that I had an easy answer to just exactly how I’m supposed to be tapping into my own curiosity, because if I did, then I’d already be doing it. It’s kind of like that time another coach friend of mine asked me “What haven’t you tried?” when we did a coaching session about one of my teams. My response was, “If I knew what I hadn’t tried, I’d be doing that!”

But now that I think of that question, what haven’t I tried?

• Practice, practice, practice—I can go back to the basics, review old recordings, read the books, listen to example sessions conducted by master coaches. If my foundations are stronger, then perhaps it will be easier to use them as a launchpad, letting my curiosity fly from there.

• Self-management—I can manage myself more rigorously during coaching sessions. Instead of me supplying the metaphor, I can ask, “What is here for you?” or “What metaphor could we use here?”

• Less pride, more humility—I can ask for help. I’ve already begun leaning even harder into my own coaching circles, asking for feedback, asking for what they see and observe in me. I’m doing more demo sessions with more people. I’m going to keep doing this until I get it right.

• Losing my fear—There is another line from “Picard,” (episode 10, if you want to get specific), where he says, “Fear is an incompetent teacher.” And it is. I’ve been letting fear run me ragged rather than stepping through to the other side. I’m starting to wonder if my curiosity is trapped by my fear, incompetent teacher that it is. So, I’ve asked my own coach for help, specifically in looking at fear.

For me, curiosity is a knife blade. If I lean too far to my right, I’m in danger of nosiness, of asking shallow questions simply to know the answer. If I lean too far to my left, I’m in judgement, of asking questions to confirm my own beliefs or biases. True curiosity is genuine wonder, and it comes from walking that blade. Curiosity comes from a place of joy, not fear.

and now?

I’m often asked why I coach. It’s strange work, work that requires that I play the long game, not just look for quick results, and that means that it is not always understood. There is the cliche and obvious answer of being of service to people, but there is another less altruistic side of this work for me: it keeps me humble. Or rather, it keeps me in the fight for the humility. To stay out of my own head, to focus solely on the other person, to be of service (there it is again) to them. I can be a bit much, and I know it, and coaching knocks some of that out of me.

Is it impossible for me to stand in curiosity? No, it is not. I just need to explore the land of impossible, slay a few dragons, and wander down some paths I’ve not taken.

And do you know what? My curiosity is right over there, waiting patiently for me to discover it. I just needed to be a bit more curious, a lot less fearful in order to find it.

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Author’s note: I have no doubt that someone out there is wondering why I didn’t make the obvious connection with Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland. The “Curiouser and curiouser” line was right there! I did make the connection, but I went the Picard route instead. This morning, however, I woke up to an email from the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. In March 2021, they have a new exhibit entitled (you guessed it) “Alice: Curiouser and Curiouser,” a theatrical show about the global phenomenon of Alice and her adventures in Wonderland. If the pandemic wanes and I find myself with a free plane ticket, you’ll find me in London at the V&A in the spring.

Author’s note, part deux: Shockingly, Linda Nickell did not provide the image for this blog post. It came from the interwebs, and all credit goes to Patrick Stewart and whomever created these images for “Picard.”