February tends to come wrapped in hearts - romantic love, grand gestures, roses, expectations. But I’ve been thinking about a quieter form of love lately. The kind that shows up as curiosity and asks: before I react, before I defend, before I assume – what if they have a good reason? Not a perfect reason. Not a morally superior reason. Just a human one. Practising this changes the quality of our conversations, reduces unnecessary conflict, and builds trust - whether at home or at work.

WHEN WE SLOW DOWN BEFORE WE RESPOND

In life we tend to move quickly, especially when we feel hurt or wronged. There is something quite instinctive about wanting to interpret and respond immediately. But when I look back at the periods where I’ve consistently felt most energised and balanced, they are the times when I’ve been spacious enough to allow time before reacting. The times when I’ve practiced deliberately choosing curiosity over certainty.

When I interpret things quickly - particularly in uncomfortable situations – I usually already have a story in mind. Whether someone seemed distant, abrupt, rude or inconsiderate, most of my stories tend to share one pattern: they place me at the centre of the problem. Often as a way of protecting myself. It becomes either my fault or their fault. There is very little room in between. What I have discovered however, is that when I stay open…
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“...when I lean back internally and resist the urge to rush to judgement - situations tend to unfold differently.”

— Mai Copsø

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When I assume positive intent, or at least the possibility of a good reason, and ask questions from a place of genuine exploration, the dynamic shifts. No one needs to defend themselves. The conversation becomes less about proving and more about understanding. It becomes easier to be loving, respectful and solution-oriented.

Curiosity creates a rare space between receiving and response. It interrupts the reflex to personalise things. It widens the lens. Instead of immediately concluding “They don’t care,” curiosity wonders what might actually be happening for them. Instead of holding tightly to “They should know better,” it asks what they might be carrying that I cannot see.

This does not mean tolerating poor behaviour or abandoning boundaries. And it certainly does not mean explaining away harm. Curiosity is not self-betrayal. Discernment still needs to follow. But…
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“...allowing curiosity to be the first instinct is a form of emotional maturity.””

— Mai Copsø

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It gives us access to the bigger picture and often brings a surprising sense of ease. I feel it physically when I practise this. My shoulders drop. My jaw softens. My nervous system steps out of defence. Because defensiveness thrives on certainty – on the belief that “I know what this means.” From there, we jump to conclusions and act out of protection rather than from love.

Curiosity softens that certainty. It reminds me that I rarely see the full picture. And in leadership, in friendship, and especially in love, that reminder matters.

Perhaps this February, instead of focusing only on romance, we could experiment with this quieter expression of love - the kind that pauses long enough to ask what might be happening beneath the surface. So here are three questions you can use to practise curiosity as love when you feel yourself about to react with quick judgement:

A SIMPLE CURIOSITY PRACTICE

1. WHAT ELSE COULD BE TRUE HERE?

This question immediately loosens certainty. It reminds you that your first interpretation is rarely the only one.
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2. WHAT MIGHT THEY BE NAVIGATING THAT I CANNOT SEE?

Stress, pressure, fear, distraction - most behaviour makes more sense when you widen the frame.
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3. IF I ASSUME THERE IS A GOOD REASON FOR HOW THEY ARE BEHAVING, HOW WOULD I RESPOND DIFFERENTLY?

This shifts you from reaction to choice. It brings you back into alignment with who you want to be.
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Curiosity does not remove discernment. But it creates space before defence. And often, that space is enough to change the entire tone and trajectory of a conversation.

Much love,

Mai