Naomi Weisman is a Canadian-Australian and mother of three who loves to Ramble with her dog, cook for family and friends, and laugh whenever possible.
I have always been a curious person—especially when it comes to people and society. I love knowing what makes someone tick, and I love understanding why things are the way they are. For as long as I can remember, I have been drawn to the why beneath the surface of things: not just what people do, but what shapes them into who they are.
That curiosity has followed me through every stage of life, but what has surprised me most is how it has only deepened in midlife. I used to think curiosity belonged primarily to youth—to students, explorers, beginners. But now, standing firmly in the middle of my life, I feel it more vividly than ever. Perhaps it is because I am less rushed, less concerned with proving anything, and more content to simply wonder.
Some of that, I now realize, I learned at home. My dad always said that asking good questions and actively listening to the response were his superpowers. He didn’t dominate conversations; he opened them. He made people feel seen simply by being genuinely interested in their stories. As I’ve grown older, I find myself aspiring to that same quiet power—to be someone who listens deeply, asks thoughtfully, and leaves space for others to unfold.
One of the places my curiosity reveals itself most clearly is in language. Words fascinate me. Their etymology, how they shift and soften or harden over time, how they migrate across borders and cultures, carrying pieces of history with them. I love discovering that a word I use casually has roots in Latin or Greek, or that it once meant something entirely different centuries ago. It feels like a quiet form of time travel—each word a small artifact of human experience.
But my curiosity is not limited to books or ideas. It is just as alive in conversation. I am endlessly interested in how people come to believe what they believe, how their upbringing, culture, trauma, joy, and chance encounters shape their worldviews. I am less interested now in winning arguments and more interested in understanding stories. What happened to make you this way? What did you love first? What disappointed you? What still surprises you?
Midlife has given me the gift of asking these questions without urgency. I no longer feel the need to arrive at definitive answers. Instead, I find comfort in the asking itself. Curiosity has become less about accumulation and more about connection—between ideas, between people, between past and present versions of myself.
There is also a tenderness to curiosity in midlife. I find myself gentler with complexity. Less eager to label, more willing to sit in uncertainty. I don’t need the world to be tidy anymore. I just want it to be interesting.
And perhaps that is what curiosity truly offers at this stage of life: a way to remain open. Open to change. Open to growth. Open to being surprised by the world, even after we think we have seen so much of it.
In a culture that often tells women in midlife to become quieter, smaller, and more settled, curiosity feels like a quiet rebellion. It says: I am still learning. I am still paying attention. I am still becoming.
And that, to me, is one of the most beautiful privileges of aging.
READ MORE > Her Story, Rambler Cafe Blog
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