Rediscovering Wonder: Where Curiosity Leads

When I lived in Siena, my friends and I used to go on what we called random walks.

We'd leave the house with no destination in mind and decide at each junction whether to turn left or right.

What I loved about those walks wasn't really where we ended up. It was the possibility that every turn might reveal something we'd never noticed before. A hidden courtyard. A tiny café. A beautiful view. A street we'd somehow never walked down.

We always discovered something.

As children, I think we're naturally good at exploring. The world feels full of things waiting to be discovered.

Somewhere along the way, many of us forget how.

We settle into routines. We take the same route to work, visit the same places and save ideas for "one day" when we have more time.

It's very easy to slip into the habit of going from one thing to the next without leaving much room for the unexpected.

But exploration doesn't have to mean a big trip or a grand adventure.

Sometimes it's taking a different route home and seeing what you notice.

Stopping in a village you've only ever driven through.

Following a footpath you've never walked before.

Or simply going for a walk without a particular destination in mind and seeing where curiosity leads.

One summer afternoon, a friend and I went for a walk in the woods.

That was the whole plan.

A walk in the woods on a hot sunny day.

Instead, we stumbled across a crystal-clear stream winding through the trees. We sat with our feet in the water, talking in the dappled shade for hours.

It wasn't where we'd planned to spend the afternoon.

It wasn't something we'd gone looking for.

But years later, it's one of the things I remember most clearly.

I always seem to come home from days like these with a pocket, bag or notebook stuffed with little reminders.

A ticket stub.

A museum leaflet.

A receipt from a favourite café.

A label from something I bought.

Notes scribbled while the memory is still fresh.

By the end of summer, they often find their way into a journal somewhere.

Years later, I'm always delighted by how quickly the memories return.

Sometimes all it takes is a faded ticket or a handwritten note and I'm transported straight back to that day.

The place.

The people.

The feeling.

The moment.

Looking at the journals lined up on my shelf, I remember where each one came from.

Just seeing the covers brings back memories.

I open one and I'm transported straight back to that place, that day, that moment.

So many of those memories started with something small.

A different turning.

A path I'd never walked before.

A village I decided to stop and explore.

A walk with no destination in mind.

Curiosity,

and seeing where it led.