Dana, you’ve piqued my curiosity… filling my mind with wonder, a desire to understand and absorb—a deep curiosity that allows the mind to escape and fuel new ideas.
“Escape into potential. The potential of anything your mind can dream…” Rhythmic words penned over a decade ago come to life and meld with the evening rays as the sun sets over the eastern Rift Valley here in Dana Village, Jordan.
There’s a sense of potential in a foreign land, absorbing the unfamiliar. Curiosity springs to life with strangers in an exotic culture. Senses awaken, allowing curiosity of what provokes the spirit to take over.
Curiosity is not a simple thing.
On one level, I fear curiosity. Fear wasting time jumping from one rumor to another. A superficial phenomenon that flows freely within social media, holding nothing more than useless kernels of information, drowning out the more profound questions. It has come to define the modern world.
Wrapped up in our hands, impatiently curious, we wait for the next ding, salivating like Pavlov’s dog for the next crumb of information to further disconnect the soul.
“You enjoy escaping from reality, don’t you?” She whispers, the evening sun pausing on its descent as if waiting for my answer. “Lost in wonder… waiting for passionate curiosity to sweep you into another adventure.” I’m comforted by her presence.
Philosophy is built on wonder, endlessly seeking answers, and a desire to understand life. Its engine is passionate curiosity. Albert Einstein humbly once said, “I have no special talents. I am only passionately curious.”
The wonder of life is the seed of a philosopher’s dream—a desire that drives the soul forward to understand and gain experience and wisdom.
Without passion, we are lost. Curiosity loses its power and hinders growth. The mind reverts to seeking only a superficial understanding of life, something to pass the time. It swims around in circles, jumping from one idea to another, taking fragments of information and patching them together to validate an archaic plan. Truth becomes irrelevant.
Looking at the wind-cut sandstone cliffs of Dana, sharply contrasting with the endless blue skies above, I understand this truth.
What makes the sky blue? As a kid, this simple question drew me to physics and the wonders of light, a perfect marriage for photography.
A Czech phrase floats in my mind: “modré z nebe” ~ the blue from the sky; within this sight of blue lies an ocean of possibilities and dreams.
“Quit your daydreaming and gather some firewood; I’ll prepare our afternoon tea.” My guide, Isaa, calls out. I nod, impressed by the ground we’ve covered today. Isaa’s knowledge of the land, stories of Dana, and how every day brings something new is captivating.
“Dried white saxaul root, correct?” I quickly ask, testing myself to see if I remembered the name. Isaa nods in confirmation. The root is fuel for the morning coffee and afternoon tea. Today, I will appreciate it a bit more, rest my legs before setting off to a new campsite for the night, and soak in the scene here in the heart of Dana.
“Do you know centuries ago, curiosity was looked down upon?” Her voice wakes me from the stretching view before me. “Philosophers saw curiosity as mere trivial questioning, where the goal is not seeking actual understanding but an answer to humor a whimsical belief.”
She helps pick up a few pieces of wood, adding, “Fearing change, politicians want people to wrap themselves up in this superficial curiosity, to provide comfort and maintain the status quo.”
“An easy way to manipulate the population,” I laugh, but this thought holds no humor. Politicians and those in power have been manipulating people’s lives with such methods for centuries. The ding of my phone breaks the spell, and instinctively, I grab it, struggling not to look at the newly arrived message.
I pause, her words effortlessly guiding the phone back into my pocket. “A truly inquisitive mind will never let this be the case, yes?!?”
I feel myself falling into this swamp, drowning in the rush of modernity, moving away from the depths of wonder, and becoming overwhelmed by the shallows of superficiality… anticipating the next soundbite to support a mindless debate, a curiosity to prove a point, not to act as a springboard for truth.
Stepping out of my routine makes it easier to keep an open mind. The path I’m on is not the only one; there are thousands, if not more, paths I could take to get where I need to go.
But just where is it I need to go?
An excellent place to start is cutting out the daily bullshit flooding the airwaves and allowing reckless curiosity to run wild.
I look at Isaa, who describes in a few words how easy it is to fall under the spell of mob mentality. Once you start following the masses, it’s a morass that is not easy to escape; I imagine this is why he spends most of his time guiding in the Dana Bioreserve.
Isaa sees himself as a naturalist and a scientist. “A piece of a puzzle in one culture can be the missing piece of a puzzle in another. People need diversity of thought, just as in science… it’s a crucial ingredient in the evolutionary process.”
The aroma brings me back to the moment, and I reach out for the cup extended to me and pause, met with a fierce expression from Isaa… damn, sometimes it’s tough to be left-handed.
“No matter what…” he glares at me. “You must always take the cup with your right hand.”
Again, I begin to explain my left-handedness, but he’s tired of my excuse and cuts me off. “Only if your right hand is injured and it is impossible to use can you use your left…” He glances at me again, and I hear her laughter.
Her soft eyes lit up with humor, answering Isaa’s scowl. “If you’d like, I’d be more than happy to break his right hand if that will make it easier…”
Isaa’s laughter ricochets through the canyon, and he smiles. “She’s a good one, very helpful. Yes, breaking his hand may be the only resolution.” The warmth of her hand on my left ignites my smile as I clumsily begin to use my right.
Watching Isaa light up a cigarette, I wonder why he chose his way of life here in Dana, and I ask him.
Looking at me, he laughs. “If anyone else asked such a question, I’d give them a patented simple answer. But the truth…” He takes another drag on his cigarette. “People become slaves in society, mindlessly thinking. A few in power keep their flock within certain limits; control is the goal.”
“I see it with my sons. People want them to listen, follow the rules, and work. Political parties want them to listen, follow the rules, and obey. The media wants everyone to listen, follow their rules, and accept. We become numb to the world.”
Isaa continues, and with creative freedom, I surmise: “Without passion, a potential wave of wisdom morphs into fractured ripples of knowledge. These frivolous ripples are admired and then cast aside for another shallow fact. Without the wonder of exploring the depths of the waves, we miss the awe. Dana holds an awe I can’t find elsewhere.”
He casts a thoughtful glance at me. A person filled with genuine curiosity is becoming rare in this world. Understood, we pack up and move on.
“Come here,” Isaa calls out, and I climb down to a small outcropping before he holds up his hand. A blue lizard rests below, and he smiles. “Isn’t it beautiful?” He admires the prize. “No more talking; don’t need your curiosity to ruin the moment.” I can’t help thinking, “Why is it so blue… what advantage does it serve out here?” but I keep silent.
“It’s called a Sinai agama. It’s blue because the striking color attracts females…” he turns to me. “I know you, my friend, your mind can’t help asking – ‘why, why, why!’”
While watching the scene in peace, Isaa’s phone comes to life; the call from Mecca beckons. He nods at me and takes refuge as it’s time for him to pray. I give him peace and scout the area, giving us each time to ponder our thorny crown of life.
It’s been a fascinating experience in Dana. As I climb up the last bluff to end my time here, I reflect on the trek, taking a final view, a world away from where I usually find myself. It’s another experience and another piece of the puzzle.
By the afternoon, I will be sitting in the town of Al-Salt, putting the past week into perspective. My visions of Dana will dissipate, but taking her place will be yet another soul where wonder and desire to understand will move me forward.
Nietzsche wrote about curiosity, despising fluffy, superficial thoughts that lead us down dead-end alleyways and waste potential. He believed every great person must have a drive—a dangerous curiosity, as he called it—something to push beyond comfort, push the limits, and relentlessly learn and better ourselves.
While travel and work have given me new opportunities to learn, there’s enough excitement in the backyard of my childhood home in Pendleton where my dangerous curiosity could thrive.
What matters is desire, the heart of the free spirit.
A passionate free spirit, searching out the forbidden, making sense of the world in ways mass media and societal thinking are incapable of doing. Politics of all sorts are immune to wonder and indifferent to creativity; instead, they run and re-run old ideas to appease the people, stunting evolution. To keep things numb and unchanging.
Like I often do, I tend to fall hard for a place. Although my time here is short, I’m taken in by this ancient city, which exhibits a sense of peace I didn’t expect: Christians, Jews, and Muslims live and practice side by side.
Taking another sip of my cardamom coffee, I lean back with sore legs and an appreciation for life’s finer and simpler things.
“I figured you’d like the feel of Al-Salt,” she says, interrupting my musings.
“It’s an ancient and very traditional town. Life here is like stepping back in time, a good place to seep Jordanian and Middle Eastern cultures.” She smiles and tips her coffee cup as a toast to the past few days of wonders and the unleashing of more mysteries coming my way.
“This place used to be a mecca of trade, so minds are more open… excited to learn new ideas, new ways, and incorporate them into their lives.” She looks wistfully at the city before us… “It’s paradoxical, there’s so much hope in people… but nations seem to be moving backward. Uninspired. Lacking that…” She peers into me, “What was that term you used?”
“Dangerous curiosity?” I say without conviction, hoping this is the term she’s searching for.
“Yes, this dangerous curiosity to learn, evolve, and understand the value of freedom. Letting it lead you to something spectacular.” She nods, and slipping into a daydream, I watch her fade into the distance.
Daydreaming is often said to be my most significant fault, but there’s no better moment when my mind wanders into what could be.
Let curiosity begin, an escape into potential… Sitting back with dreams of escaping reality and peering into possibilities is intoxicating. Finding something that moves the soul is an endless adventure, for as half-opaque as we are to ourselves, the outside world is even more mysterious.
Walking down the alleyways, the sun breaking through at the far end. She turns my way, “We wanderers, ever seeking the lonelier way, begin no day where we have ended another day…”
“… and no sunrise finds us where sunset left us. Being alone doesn’t mean loneliness…” I finish her thought and smile at her surprised look.
“Ah, my favorite line of Gibran… I’m impressed.” Her veil slips to reveal a bit more of her mystery. “With the courage of curiosity and the building of bridges to our island universes, we’ll never be alone.” Her eyes reflect the artistry of the world around me, within me.
As with beautiful art, she makes my heart beat a bit quicker. I close my eyes and wonder where my mind will take me next. Her final words give me solace as I drift off to dream along with the unbearable curiosity of being…
لسلام عليك. Peace be upon you.
Global Sojourns: Photography & Philosophy 
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