Curiosity and i, p.1
Curiosity and I, page 1
Curiosity and I
Let Curiosity Guide You
O’Nell Agossa
copyright © 2025 O’Nell Agossa
All rights reserved.
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Curiosity and I
Let Curiosity Guide You
ISBN
979-8-90102-015-9 Paperback
979-8-90102-016-6 Hardcover
979-8-90102-017-3 eBook
I dedicate this book to my family and loved ones,
To every single person I’ve encountered.
The strangers who became friends and family,
The loved ones turned strangers due to the ever-changing nature of life.
To God, Life, and this Universe that have blessed me with the gift of curiosity
And an abundance of blessings each time I followed its guidance.
To you, reading these words…
May Curiosity be as faithful and good a guide as it has been for me.
Contents
* * *
Curiosity Killed the Cat…
PART 1
Echoes of Curiosity
CHAPTER 1
Figments Of Curiosity
CHAPTER 2
Away From Home
CHAPTER 3
The World Is Not Safe
PART 2
Inward Curiosity
CHAPTER 4
Hope
CHAPTER 5
I Love You
CHAPTER 6
Rebirth
CHAPTER 7
Falling Asleep
PART 3
Outward Curiosity
CHAPTER 8
Universes Colliding
CHAPTER 9
The Impostors
CHAPTER 10
While I Still Can
CHAPTER 11
The Garden
…But Satisfaction Brought it Back
A Prayer of Gratitude
Acknowledgments
Notes
Curiosity Killed the Cat…
* * *
I stood in front of a green bench, eyes fixed on a notice tacked to a tree behind it.
Above me, the morning concert of birds’ whistles and melodies brought my attention back to the entire space. I shook my head and looked down at my wristwatch flashing: 6:58 a.m.
I should get going. If I’m late, they may get grumpy.
It was a cool spring day. The rising sun was barely visible on the horizon. The refreshing smell of dew-soaked grass hit me as I walked through my favorite park looking for a suitable place for my meditation. The silence around me spoke of peace, interrupted only by the muffled sound of my own steps on a dirt pathway. Along the way, beautiful purple, yellow, and orange wildflowers lured me with delicate perfumes, their fragrances carrying hints of wild berries.
I patiently scanned the area until I found a comfortable spot under a large tree. Perfect, right there. That will do. As I sat still, a soft breeze kissed my skin, giving rise to pleasant shivers along my body. Further away, but still in sight, the green bench became increasingly blurry as I slowly closed my eyes. My chest steadily rose up and down: three deep breaths.
Soon after, I drifted away to my destination.
Years have passed since that day. That morning, I embarked on an incredible journey with Curiosity—a three-day adventure inward that transformed me forever. It’s a tale I now feel compelled to tell you, holding these pages, all about.
In the real world, and to the outside eye, I sat under that tree for a mere hour. However, appearances can be deceiving. What we refer to as reality is constructed by our ever-evolving subjective perspectives, often partial truths of a much bigger picture. If you think about it, we are no different. Behind the various masks we use in our everyday lives, vast, unique, and complex universes exist—constantly changing, whether or not we are aware of it.
Where was I going that morning? My destination was a place I call my inner realm. Over the years, Curiosity and I regularly met in that personal space. I access it deep within my own consciousness. It’s a universe where time and space hold no power. Anything is possible, and the surroundings can change in the blink of an eye. In other words, it’s a projection of my deepest Self, often creating the perfect ground for inner exploration, reflection, and learning.
By now, you are probably wondering: Who’s Curiosity? That would be a fair question.
In all our journeys, Curiosity manifested themselves in various animal forms. You’ll come to know them as my guide, teacher, and mentor. More importantly, they are my dear and close friend. As you immerse yourself in this upcoming journey, my wish is that they become yours too. Although painted with touches of creativity and imagery, what you are about to read is true: real stories of my life, stories of others in it and beyond, the many journeys Curiosity led me on with one clear goal: to help me deepen my understanding and mastery of their essence—the practice of curiosity.
When my eyes opened, I had already transcended into my inner realm. I stood in the middle of a green and lush valley. I frantically blinked, slightly taken aback by the brightness. When my vision adjusted, imposing mountains towered all around the landscape. They stretched so high that they touched the rare clouds gliding through a crystal blue sky. The open space was beautiful with high trees dancing along the rhythm of a warm breeze. Across the area, wildflowers offered a charming spectacle: bursts of green, blue, yellow, and pink petals.
What a pleasant view.
In the light brown field of tall prairie grass, quick movements and rustling sounds suddenly drew my attention. Before long, I recognized the elegant figure of a cat playing around with intense focus. Their entire body was covered in black and white stripes, leading to a dark tail. Their whiskers and eyes carried a golden color—a unique hue I knew very well by now.
I chuckled at the realization that Curiosity chose to appear as a cat for this upcoming adventure. As they began graciously walking in my direction, I exclaimed, “It’s good to see you, my friend!”
Curiosity playfully replied, “Right on time! I was looking forward to seeing you,” then, with a smile behind their whiskers and a swishing tail, they added, “How are you?”
My eyes met their piercing golden gaze, and simultaneously, a faint feeling of sweet nostalgia washed over me. How am I… I remember a time when answering this question was quite hard. I took a long and deep breath then answered, “All good, my friend. No misery worth complaining about. My heart is at peace.”
Curiosity meowed with satisfaction. “Very well, because we have an important journey ahead.”
I nodded, a pensive look etched on my face. What awaits me this time?
“Let’s start walking,” they said, before stretching their legs. They glanced at me and instructed, “You lead the way.”
On the horizon, leading further into the mountains, a clearly defined path called on us. Without wasting any time, we marched onward.
Out of the blue, Curiosity inquired, “Would you say you were a curious child?”
I laughed, “Well… That’s new,” and with a playful tone, I added, “Look at you asking questions instead of automatically dropping wisdom on me.”
They grinned and replied, “How am I supposed to know? After all, it was before you and I truly met… Wouldn’t you agree?”
They were right. I only encountered Curiosity in this distinct and materialized form much later. Where should I sta—
Before I could finish that thought, an odd sensation rose in my chest. Without warning, my body shrank, and I stood less than a third of my normal size. I scanned myself and quickly picked up on the fact that I now looked like I was five years old: a skinny kid with short legs, an innocent gaze, and cheeks any aunty would have a field day pinching.
I wasn’t particularly shocked by the transformation: Remember, anything can happen in this realm. This is interesting. That far back? I welcomed the clue given to me by my inner realm, and I began in a higher-pitched voice, “Well…”
The upcoming story will move between realms. When you see the sign , it indicates that you are entering or exiting one for another.
Part I
ECHOES OF CURIOSITY
“Guilt was the worst. It ate me alive.” As I uttered those words, the hypnotizing fire swirled beneath my gaze. Proudly dancing in front of me, the flames adorned mesmerizing blue, red, yellow, and orange garments. However, when a stronger breeze passed through, they quickly turned menacing. At the base of the pit, ashes stirred: they reminded me of my old Self. No, it was worse… Guilt feasted on my soul—until nothing was left.
Chapter 1
Figments Of Curiosity
* * *
“I think I know what happens when we die,” I proclaimed in a solemn voice. My brother and his friends looked at me with raised eyebrows and perplexed looks.
I grew up a bit of an old soul. I wasn’t afraid to ask the big questions; the ones I know today most grown-ups still grapple with and may never find answers to. In response, adults would often wave me away, shouting like a gust of wind slamming a door, “Hush, be polite! Kids don’t ask such things!” Guilty as charged, I’d eclipse myself in shame, with my f eet dragging and a bowed head. My crime? Overzealous expression of curiosity.
I was seven when we lost a close uncle. It was the first death I consciously experienced. At such a young age, the complexity of grief was hard to grasp. Still, I was acutely aware of the palpable and heavy sadness around me. It pushed me on the personal quest to find an answer to one of Humanity’s oldest philosophical musings: What awaits us when we die?
My catholic upbringing gave me an answer ready-made: To me, my uncle was a good person, so he must be in paradise. However, my mind couldn’t help but linger on the question for a while. Like any child would, I eventually got bored with this never-ending puzzle and settled on this: death brings us back to the place before birth. Since I couldn’t recall any pain or sorrow there, it must be good and peaceful. I rushed to the living room, ready to share the good news!
Looking back, all I really wanted was simple: to believe my uncle was okay—wherever he was.
* * * * *
I was born and spent my early childhood in Benin, a francophone West African country bordering Nigeria, Niger, Togo, and Burkina Faso. From a young age, I was quite independent, often seen as mature beyond my years. I frequently felt more comfortable around adults than children. In some ways, life circumstances pushed me to grow up faster than I should have. This realization isn’t good or bad—it simply is. The protective veil of childhood innocence is bound to be lifted, and for many, if not most, it happens earlier than we’d wish.
When I was four, my mother had a terrible fire accident. She suffered third-degree burns on over sixty percent of her body. Her life was severely threatened, and for months, she was in a comatose state. Thankfully, she made it through. Then, a long and painful rehabilitation began.
During that time, Kevin, my older brother, and I lived with my grandmother while my father handled the situation as best as he could. Many years after the incident, my mom shared a story of our first visit. Her recovery was finally advanced enough that they allowed her children to see her.
I tentatively stepped into a rustic and bare hospital room. My confused gaze frantically scanned my surroundings. I stood still when I noticed a figure seated in a bed. From head to toe, my mother was covered in white bandages, her skin still healing from the traumatic burns. After months apart, she was relieved to finally see her sons. She tried opening up her arms, then called out my name with excitement. Sadly, my reaction was anticlimactic: I froze a couple of meters away from the bed. My heart pounded against my chest like drums. Who is this? I grew even more hesitant. Before my tiny brain could understand that the voice I heard was my own mother’s, fear wrapped every corner of my Being and shouted a stern instruction: run away!
Years later, recalling that day as we sat together at the kitchen table, she made wide gestures with her hands and playfully said, “You must have thought I was a ghost, hehe!” Then, she took a few sips of her boiling black instant coffee.
There’s one thing you should know about my mother: That woman never drinks directly from a cup. She always uses a spoon. I braced for it, and without fail, a cacophony of slurping sounds filled the kitchen. Yet, my ears rejoiced. I silently sat, somehow enjoying the noise: After all, it was proof that she was here—alive and well.
A few rays of sun pierced through the window and cast a soft golden glow on her face. Her hair was filled with new silver strands. Her cheeks and forehead now wore permanent wrinkles, subtly etched like delicate tattoos. In my eyes, they were hard-earned badges of wisdom, courage, and resilience, worthy of all my admiration. My gaze softened as gratitude and love welled up in my chest. How beautiful you look!
She sighed, then broke our silence with her hallmark expression, “Eh oui, mon enfant! C’est la vie.” (Ah, my child! Such is life.)
I returned a shy smile. Meanwhile, my eyes were drawn to the subtle pearls of rain at the corner of hers; tiny reflections of the deep pain she must have felt that day, seated in that small hospital room, watching her youngest, confused and terrified, run away from her. Today, I hold my mother closer and hug her a little longer every opportunity I get. I do so because in an alternate reality, we weren’t granted that privilege.
Over time, I’ve learnt that curiosity is a powerful anchor to help us notice the uniqueness in the ordinary: our morning coffee, a simple text message asking if we got home safely, a warm and home-cooked meal. Because everything changes, no matter how mundane, every moment deserves our full presence. One day, what was and what is… won’t be. To truly live these moments, not just exist through them, we should cultivate our awareness with the help of our curiosity. Ultimately, life is a long movie made up of these seemingly forgettable scenes.
Except, they aren’t. They all greatly matter.
Curiosity and I had been walking for a few hours, making only modest progress since my younger form moved more slowly than I was used to. This isn’t the most practical transformation. As midday approached, the heat pressed in around us. Fortunately, our path was now lined with tall trees that offered much-welcome pockets of shade.
“This must have been a hard period for your family,” Curiosity said with a soft voice.
“It was,” I replied, followed by a deep sigh. “When she described that day, I felt cold shivers all over my body.” My voice lowered as I added, “I can’t imagine what she felt then; not just as a mother, but as a person, a human being.”
Curiosity softly meowed. “How was she after?”
“Recovery took time, but she made it.” I paused, then looked up to the sky before saying, “We got lucky. This could have easily been the end. Beyond the physical scars, time healed some emotional and mental wounds… but others remained.”
“Meaning?” Curiosity prompted.
“Let’s just say a lot of joy got sucked out of us. Understandably, there was a constant anxiety that something terrible might be around the corner.” I noticed a passing cloud. “Yes… like the feeling of having a dark and menacing cloud on top of your head, but never knowing when it may start pouring.”
Curiosity followed up, “And today?”
I took a deep breath then smiled. “Things are better! New seasons of life, more gratitude, less anxiety, and we allow ourselves to feel and choose joy much more often.”
For the next little while, we walked in silence. My mind wandered, carried away by the swirling warm breeze. A piercing meow snapped me out of reverie.
“What are you thinking about?”
I chuckled, “Sorry, nostalgia got the best of me!” I looked straight into Curiosity’s piercing gold eyes. “I’m simply noticing how much you’ve helped me understand my parents as full-fledged individuals, way beyond the solidified images and roles of mom and dad.”
“Is that so?” they replied, a playful twinkle in their eyes.
I added, “Yes, I’m now constantly aware that everyone I encounter is going through life for the first time. The signs of age simply indicate their journey began earlier.”
Curiosity closed their eyes with satisfaction before teasing, “Wow… who would have thought? It turns out that you do listen to me sometimes!”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I yelled out, pointing at them with a smirk. “I’m a great student!” Then, proudly boasting, I added, “Actually, I might be one of the best you’ve ever had!”
Curiosity swished their tail and replied, “Easy, now! Top ten would be generous,” then added with a wink, “But let’s see where you stack up once our journey ends!”
After we shared a hearty laugh, they eventually asked, “Going back to your childhood, what happened after the accident?”
