An Ode to Curious Cats
By: Catherine Gaudry
I am a detective at heart. As a child, my best friend and I founded an agency with the mission of solving neighbourhood pranks. We printed business cards with magnifying glasses and footprints on them. It was serious. However, it soon dawned on us that, growing up in what was essentially an inner-city suburb, we would need to take on the duties of perpetrator, victim and police in order for our fledgling business to survive. Grudgingly, we moved on to other enterprises — most notably a successful rock-selling business and a garage bank with 3 employees — the spoils of which played an important part in keeping our supply of sugary goods afloat. Our agency dream was busted, but our entrepreneurial spirit and innate curiosity remained intact. And they have to this day. But this isn’t true of everyone.
We are all born as explorers, with millions of new neural connections per second being created in the first years of life. Then brain patterns start to solidify. We use safe, well-traveled neuronal highways out of convenience. And to a certain extent, that’s fine: without those pathways we would face constant information overflow and decision fatigue. What’s less fine, arguably, is that when our favoured processes are driving the car, our curiosity often takes the back seat. We are told “curiosity killed the cat”. We censor ourselves and stop asking questions. And yet, curiosity can be the great initiator. It drives innovation, change, creativity and growth. Approaching life and people with curiosity helps us bridge gaps, uncover biases and build more meaningful relationships. In many ways, it is the ultimate instrument in the human toolkit — used properly, it can turn even the most mundane situation into an “aha” moment. In fact, I would argue that curiosity did not kill the cat, it’s what gave it nine lives.
Stream is just one example of what can happen when hundreds of curious humans from different walks of life and industries are brought together and essentially left to create their own conference in real-time. Dubbed “the (un)conference for (un)conventional thinkers”, Stream is an event hosted each year in cities around the globe for such curiosity hungry souls. Attendees join discussion rounds, poke holes in arguments, create alliances and come up with new ideas. They spend every waking minute taking in, learning, exchanging and planning.
I feel at this point I need to confess that, although I fully subscribe to the fact that a solid network is fundamental and conferences can be great both for the networking opportunities and the inspiration they provide, I approach both with a healthy dose of what I can only describe as trepidation. And I am an extrovert: in most situations I am a safe bet to connect with, put at ease, and entertain those who happen to be in my general vicinity. I can only imagine what it takes for someone who is navigating further outside their comfort zone to brave those situations. So, it is with a conscientious amount of anticipation that, as a Stream newbie, I arrived in Athens and readied myself. And then curiosity kicked in…
I made my first Stream friend, also a newbie, right after landing. I later even briefly FaceTimed with her daughter while sprinting through the hotel, which is sort of how Stream goes and the spontaneous tone that was set for the rest of my stay: un-networky, un-stuffy, un-complicated, un-conferency. The whole event is set up so that curiosity can drive, and with it at the wheel, participants can forgo the awkward toe-dipping and jump straight into the experience, people and content. No awkward waiting around, holding on to a glass for dear life until you find the courage to speak with someone. You literally cannot sit or stand anywhere without someone asking what your story is. What’s more, even if you do end up on a stage presenting a self-advancing presentation in front of 400 leaders including the CEO of the world’s largest creative transformation company like many of us did, it feels more like everyone is cheering you on for even trying, rather that judging your performance.
That’s because most people seem to approach presenting or playing a central role in many other activities with a “Well, I’m curious how this will turn out, let’s go!” kind of mindset. This is why, taking stock of my time in Greece, I realize once again that being inquisitive really does save so much time and anxiety in so many situations on so many levels. Why can’t every networking event be like this? Why can’t we approach more of life this way? Letting go of trying to be a certain way or say a certain thing and simply approaching people and experiences out of genuine desire to find out more makes encounters of all kinds much easier and experiences much richer.
Stream, like so many things in both professional and private life, is very much what you make of it, but it encourages a mindset I can’t help but celebrate. My plaidoyer for conferences, events, and life at large would this: let curiosity guide you. Because maybe it did kill the cat. But I’m willing to bet it’s also what brought it back again and again.
