By the time I reached age fourteen, I had moved beyond Beverly Cleary books and Nancy Drew mysteries, deciding to explore new reading territory. I don’t recall how I came across "Diary of a Modern American Girl," by Jane Heil (published in 1974), but the word "diary" caught my attention. I thought it would be about another girl who enjoyed journaling, like me.
Little did I know it would be sexually graphic and tackle themes my naïve self was not prepared for. Despite the content, I was determined to follow the main character’s journey to discover her life’s purpose. Though I remember very few details from the book, the conclusion has stuck with me: “The purpose of life is to live.”
Fast forward fifty years, and I'm sitting with a group of adults in an Assisted Living community. Before sharing my creative enrichment program about Mary Anning, known as the "Mother of Paleontology," I invite the residents to breathe in curiosity.
"I'm asking us to welcome curiosity, not only to learn new things about this otherwise unfamiliar character but also from one another," I say.
Before long, "Jane" was asking one question after another, igniting a lively and enriching conversation.
Then, she took an unexpected turn and asked, "What's the point of learning when we're just going to die?"
I don't recall my exact response, but her question lingered. The next day, I asked another group of older-than-me adults for their thoughts on curiosity. Their responses included:
"You learn something. It makes life easier if you know what's going on."
"To find out why you're asking the question."
"To anticipate what is going to happen next."
"To know more, not just to sit and be uninformed."
"To keep expanding my horizons on my knowledge."
"What you learn might enhance somebody else's life."
"I like the word 'alert' more than curious. If you're alert, you're listening and paying attention. If you’re curious, you’re maybe finding out things you don’t want to know. "
As I pondered Jane's question, I considered the value of curiosity in our lives. And I wondered if maybe she was asking:
“Do I still matter?”
“Is this moment still worth inhabiting, even if I don’t produce anything?”
And the answer, I believe, is yes.
Yes, because to learn is to wonder, and wonder is one of the last remaining ways we know we’re still connected to something larger than ourselves.
Yes, because to learn is to be in motion, even when the body is slowing down.
Yes, because to learn is to remember that you are still a human being, not a human used-to-be.
Then, I thought about the book "Diary of a Modern American Girl" from yesteryear, and I realized that, when it’s all said and done, the purpose of life really is to live. And I, for one, want to live with curiosity until my last breath.
