Notes on Becoming More Intellectual

On curiosity as the real credential

For a long time, I thought intellectual people were different from me.

They were the ones with advanced degrees and the ability to reference philosophers and historical events as though they were discussing old friends. They seemed to move through the world carrying a kind of confidence that came from knowing things I did not know.

I admired them from a distance.

I assumed there was some invisible threshold I had missed somewhere along the way. A certain education. A certain vocabulary. A certain kind of brilliance.

But lately, I have begun to question that assumption.

The older I get, the more I notice that the people I consider truly intellectual are not necessarily the smartest people in the room. They are often the most curious. They ask questions. They pay attention. They remain interested in the world long after many people have settled into certainty.

They read widely. They listen carefully. They change their minds when new information asks them to. They are comfortable admitting what they do not know. There is a humility in that which I find deeply appealing.

For much of my life, I associated learning with achievement. Learning was tied to grades, credentials, promotions, and measurable outcomes. There was always a destination attached to the effort.

Now, learning feels different.

Lately, I no longer feel the need to justify every interest. One of the gifts of getting older is recognizing which pursuits nourish us beyond their usefulness.

I find myself drawn to books, ideas, and conversations with no particular objective in mind. No credential. No promotion. No measurable outcome. Only the satisfaction of understanding something a little more deeply than I did yesterday.

For someone who has spent much of her life focused on what is practical and necessary, this feels like a small but meaningful shift.

I am learning that curiosity is reason enough.

I have become fascinated by subjects that offer no practical benefit to my daily life. Annie Ernaux’s writing about desire. Why certain books stay with us while others fade. How women create meaningful lives in the second half of life. The relationship between beauty, attention, and presence. The habits of people who remain curious well into old age.

What captivates me is not only the subjects themselves but the way ideas travel. The way a thought can move from one woman’s reading chair to another’s a hundred years later and still arrive on time.

There is something surprisingly freeing about learning for no reason other than genuine interest.

I think this is what I misunderstood when I was younger. I thought intellectual life belonged to academics, professors, and experts.

Now I think it belongs to anyone willing to stay awake to the world around them. Anyone willing to follow a thread of curiosity, spend an afternoon reading about a topic they knew nothing about that morning, or sit with complexity rather than rushing toward simple answers.

I have also realized that becoming more intellectual is not only about consuming information. It is about thinking. It is about reflecting on what we read and hear, making connections between ideas, and asking better questions.

Knowledge matters. But wisdom comes from what we do with it.

Writing has become one of the ways I make sense of the world. Reading introduces me to new ideas, but writing helps me understand what I actually think about them. The page becomes a conversation. A place where information slowly transforms into understanding. A place where curiosity becomes clarity.

These days, I feel less interested in becoming an expert and more interested in becoming a student.

Not for a season.

For life.

I want to be the kind of woman who continues learning well into old age. The kind of woman who always has a book on her nightstand and a question on her mind. The kind of woman who approaches the world with wonder rather than assumption.

There is so much I do not know.

Strangely, that realization no longer feels intimidating. It feels like freedom. Freedom from needing to know everything. Freedom from feeling behind. Freedom to simply remain curious.

Because every unanswered question is an invitation. Every book is an invitation to see the world through different eyes. Every conversation is an opportunity to see something differently than I did before.

Perhaps becoming more intellectual has less to do with proving how much you know and more to do with nurturing a lifelong relationship with learning.

It is choosing curiosity over certainty.

Attention over distraction.

Wonder over indifference.

The real work is not arriving.

It’s remaining curious enough to keep going.

xo,

Leslie