Why curiosity, not certainty, unlocks possibility

I often feel the urge to provide answers. It happens in meetings when silence hangs in the air and people look at me. It happens when a project slows down and the team seems unsure of the next step. I know that if I speak, my words will move things forward. And for a long time, I believed that was my job: to close gaps quickly and give direction.

Early in my career, that instinct served me well. Teams appreciated clarity, and problems got resolved. But over time, I realized there was a hidden cost. When I jumped too quickly to certainty, I shut down the space where better ideas might have surfaced. The team aligned, yes, but only around my answer, not the one they could have found together.

Why certainty feels safe

Certainty is seductive. It calms the room and makes people feel safe. It reassures others that someone is in control, and it reassures me that I am fulfilling my role as a leader.

But certainty too soon can be dangerous. It closes the conversation before new options are explored. It narrows people’s thinking to the path already chosen. It can make progress look faster, but it often leads to rework, frustration, and missed opportunities.

I once watched a project get locked into a solution far too early. Leadership wanted a quick answer, so the team committed before exploring alternatives. Months later, they realized the chosen path could not scale. The team had to go back and rebuild what could have been designed better from the start. The rush to certainty saved time in the short run, but cost far more in the end.

Certainty feels safe because it relieves discomfort. It removes the fear of the unknown. But in change, discomfort and uncertainty are not problems to solve. They are signals that we are in the right territory.

Learning to hold uncertainty

One of the most helpful shifts for me has been adopting a simple philosophy: try and see what happens. If it does not work, we will adapt.

This approach has shaped the culture of my team. It has given us the freedom to test ideas, learn from mistakes, and keep moving without fear of being wrong. When certainty is the goal, failure feels unacceptable. But when curiosity is the posture, failure becomes part of the process.

I have seen this play out many times. A team member proposes an idea that I might not have chosen myself. Instead of shutting it down, we try it. Sometimes it works brilliantly. Sometimes it does not. But either way, the team gains insight and confidence. And in the long run, they learn to trust their own judgment instead of waiting for mine.

Curiosity does not mean drifting without direction. It means holding uncertainty long enough for better answers to emerge.

A personal moment of staying curious

Not long ago, I was in a session where the team was debating how to prioritize a set of features. My instinct was to step in with a clear framework and push them to a decision. I could feel the silence stretch, and with it, the discomfort.

Instead, I asked one question: “What impact do we believe matters most for our customers?” Then I stayed quiet.

The discussion that followed was richer than the answer I had been about to give. The team uncovered assumptions, weighed trade-offs, and landed on a decision they all believed in. My contribution was not the answer, but the space that allowed them to reach one together.

That meeting reminded me that curiosity is not passive. It is active leadership of a different kind. It is choosing to hold the door open long enough for possibility to walk through.

Why curiosity is hard

Curiosity sounds simple, but it is hard to practice. Leaders are rewarded for decisiveness. We are promoted because we know how to solve problems, not because we ask questions. Many of us also carry the belief that silence signals weakness.

Curiosity asks us to resist these instincts. It asks us to see uncertainty not as something to hide, but as the raw material for progress. And it asks us to trust that leaving space will not erode confidence in us as leaders, but strengthen it.

I have felt the discomfort of this many times. Sitting in a room full of smart people, I want to show my value. I want to add something. I want to look like I know where things are going. Staying curious requires me to hold back that instinct and trust that the team will get there.

The truth is, they almost always do.

Practices that help build curiosity

Here are a few practices that help me lean into curiosity rather than rushing to certainty:

• Ask before telling. When a problem arises, start with a question instead of an answer.
• Name the experiment. Frame new efforts as trials, not final commitments. This lowers the stakes and encourages learning.
• Stay silent longer. Give others time to fill the space before you step in. Often the best insights come after the first pause.
• Model “not knowing.” Say openly when you do not have the answer, and show that exploration is valued.
• Use curiosity as a discipline. Create rituals where questions are expected, not unusual. For example, in reviews ask, “What are we missing?” before decisions are made.

These habits shift the culture from one where answers are expected from the top to one where learning is shared across the team.

Curiosity and discomfort

Curiosity is closely tied to discomfort. The instinct to rush to certainty comes from wanting to escape the uneasy feeling of not knowing. But change requires us to carry that feeling a little longer.

I remind myself often that discomfort is not a sign of weakness. It is a signal that we are stretching. Fear of uncertainty is not something to erase, but something to share openly. When leaders show that they can carry uncertainty without rushing to close it down, it gives the team confidence to do the same.

Change rarely happens in comfort zones. Curiosity is what keeps us in the stretch long enough for change to take root.

Reflection for leaders

• Do I rush to provide answers when silence or a question would serve better?
• Where am I shutting down possibility too soon by declaring the answer?
• When was the last time I asked a question I did not already know the answer to?
• Am I giving my team space to try and adapt, or am I protecting them from the risk of mistakes?

The payoff

Certainty feels satisfying in the short term, but it often limits growth. Curiosity keeps the door open long enough for something better to appear.

When leaders practice curiosity, teams become more confident and inventive. They stop seeing mistakes as failures and start treating them as lessons. They move from asking “what should we do?” to asking “what could we try?”

That is why curiosity, not certainty, unlocks possibility.