I admit it, I have some bad habits. For one, I pick at my lips when I’m nervous. This drives each and every one of my family members crazy – especially in the winter when I inevitably draw some blood.

I also eat too late into the night. Hummus and chips while watching back to back episodes of Homeland? Yes please!

These are just a couple, of course, and while I continue to evaluate and polish my rough side, I also try to develop the good.

Recently, I watched my mom teach my kids how to crochet. Its summer and we ran out of things to do by July so naturally I thought this was a magnificent idea.

I should mention that I’ve watched my mom crochet for decades now – I recall a time far back in the recesses of “my 20’s” when my mother taught me but time passed and I had not kept it up. Now, here, watching her and after receiving dozens of her lovingly-woven blankets, hats, and sweaters, I wonder at the kind of emotion (Was it joy, contentment, satisfaction?) this pastime brought to her.

After what seemed like a handful of minutes, I noticed the kids were getting it. In fact, they took to it like fish to water. Deciding I’d have a look and see what I could recall, I snatched a hook and began my own lanky line. To my surprise, I had remembered exactly where I left off. My mother just needed to guide me a bit past the 2nd row. We sat there, the 5 of us, diligently working up a woolen frenzy and before long I was crocheting an eensy, doll-sized scarf for my daughter’s American Girl. It wasn’t your next nubby, multicolored, favorite college wearing throw-back kind of garment, but still it was something! And the emotion I felt was all of the above: Joy that I was creating some real, usable THING, contentment in the rhythm that my fingers found between soft woolen stitches, and satisfaction in using my time . . . peacefully.

In the wonder of my curiosity I discovered something – a new (or perhaps a remembered) habit that would eventually calm an anxious mind, soften a chaotic day, breathe life into creation. Maybe I’d be able to quell those less than healthy habits. To make less-victim the skin around my smile; ease my mind as my fingers found their place across cashmere and not the controller.

Maybe staying curious is all we need to massage the stiff parts of our being and open to more flow.

Here’s hoping you find more flow at the end of your curiosity. If so, I’d love to hear how!

What inspiration has your curiosity led you to?