What does Heidegger mean by “curiosity” and why does he characterize it as a kind of epistemic vice, when most contemporary accounts view it as a virtue? Being and Time disparagingly notes that curiosity “concerns itself with a kind of knowing, but just in order to have known” (BT 217/172); the curious person busies herself with “entertaining ‘incidentals’” (BT 358/310). Building on previous work – wherein I argue that virtues are best understood as tendencies to cope well with existential obstacles to flourishing (McMullin 2019) – I show that curiosity as Heidegger frames it is an epistemically vicious misunderstanding of self and world arising in large part from our tendencies toward impatience, arrogance, and fear. Because Heidegger’s account of curiosity in Being and Time is not well-developed, we will look at nearby texts to get a better understanding of this sometimes-overlooked concept in Heidegger’s corpus.

TOT states have a subjective phenomenology to them that is worthy of investigation in and of itself. Although examining the mechanisms of word-retrieval failure is an important part of fully understanding TOT experiences, the mechanisms of word-retrieval failure are not the complete picture. For one thing, not all instances of word-retrieval failure result in a TOT state. For another, TOT states are an inherently subjective phenomenon with a potentially unique set of phenomenological qualities that distinguish them from other metacognitive states of awareness and experiences. Understanding the subjective phenomenology of TOTs could help to elucidate important facets of metacognition as well as human consciousness more broadly.

The chapter lays out the motivation for this particular study on discovery through reference to the cross-disciplinary nature of this inquiry and its potential for deepening our understanding of how new knowledge is generated beyond a focus on single or allied disciplines. Classical studies on discovery are acknowledged, and their contributions to the subject are described in appreciation. However, what happens when discovery is pursued across disciplines from the social, natural, and biomedical sciences?

The main focus of this chapter is on another class of actions (in addition to the habits discussed in Chapter 2) that don’t result from decision-making processes. So in that sense they aren’t intentional and don’t fit the standard belief-desire model. These are actions that are directly caused by affective states (emotions, desires, and so on). Some of these actions are merely expressive, whereas others give the appearance of being instrumental, and are generally (but mistakenly) interpreted as goal-directed. But the chapter begins with a review of some basic findings from affective science and neuroscience. This is to set up the discussion in this and later chapters.

The inclination to withdraw himself from the public as far as possible is regarded as one of Virgil’s most salient characteristics: this at least is the impression given by the few testimonia and numerous anecdotes of his life. The guiding principle of Virgil’s life as a poet of the res publica Romana could be described as an ‘art of disappearing’, which becomes evident in different ways. By means of this Virgil sometimes succeeds in withdrawing himself spatially even from Augustus, the mightiest designer of space, and in establishing certain limits to his ‘topotactic’ power. To present the ‘withdrawing technique’ practised by Virgil, this chapter draws on information gathered from biographical texts on Virgil as well as on relevant passages of Virgil’s work, naturally without ignoring the documentary fragility of the texts considered. Nevertheless there are conspicuous correspondences between the texts about Virgil and the poetological messages within his literary works, which give an impression at least of his effective seclusion. His reception by his contemporaries and immediate successors proves his greatest success in this respect.

We propose that the processes underlying insight problem solving in humans depend on two distinctly different forms of curiosity: Curiosity1 (which is associated with a habit-based, goal-centered, reinforcement learning processing system), and Curiosity2 (which depends on the discursive, default mode, medial-temporal-lobe based processing system). The former kind of curiosity is goal directed and increases with approach to the rewarding answer. The latter is exploratory and goal averse: “twiddling.” The possibility of insight, we suggest, depends upon the individual initiating a deliberate system switch upon apprehension of an impasse. Problem solving involves engaging in a habitual mode of responding and motivation by Curiosity1. With insight problems, however, this normal mode fails to lead to a solution, and impasse results. Acknowledgment of the impasse may trigger a strategic switch to a different kind of curiosity and information processing system: the discursive, default mode Curiosity2 system, wherein the solution that was previously unavailable may be found. This view is consistent with traditional stages posited to be involved in insight problem solving. However, several paradigms used to study creativity or investigate 'Aha!' reactions do not fit easily with this view of insight. Using this perspective, we evaluate the evidence for insight in nonhuman animals.

What makes us durable in alone time is a combination of background, personality, mindset, approach, and mental tools. It may come as no surprise that adaptable, confident, and optimistic people are better at alone time, because those traits are important for resilience in any context. But we are also learning that those who are able to stop and introspect, who are generally curious and self-reliant, flourish when they’re alone. Perhaps more importantly, how we perceive solitude can make or break that time. Being able to see value or meaning in it, even when we must be alone, is critical. Feeling that we have interesting and challenging activities in that space also makes it more enjoyable.

Chapter 1 starts with examples of typical child-instigated explorations in science, highlighting the importance of EC education as a whole and of developmental and cognitive psychology. This chapter describes children’s wonder and curiosity towards the world as it outlines what science looks like in the early years. As part of the definition of science, the chapter introduces conceptual, procedural and attitudinal science knowledge, and looks at how these relate to young children’s learning of science.

The best way to characterise the pleasure of thinking is to retrace its development. Chapter 2 thus approaches the pleasure of thinking from the perspective of developmental psychology. After a presentation of the meta-theoretical frame of a sociocultural, constructivist, developmental approach, the chapter first presents the classical observations made by Charles Darwin and Jean Piaget, both of whom identified manifestations of pleasure in young children. Second, the chapter examines the literature based on close analysis of parent-infant observations, which shows that from 3 or 4 months of age, children may experience playfulness, a shared pleasure in humorous situations, and the positive experience of being the author of their actions. Third, it presents literature on curiosity, humour, and interests in the preschool years, which reveals that children’s curiosity can be cultivated into interests. In school years, fourth, pleasure is often considered at the margin of the classroom, but also in relation to mathematics and, incidentally, in interactions. In the final section, the chapter rereads longitudinal data, retracing the conditions in which children may develop pleasure in learning and thinking.

Thinking is an activity that has a trajectory. Through the previous chapters, five modalities of pleasure of thinking have been identified: (i) a core and fundamental curiosity; (ii) a semiotic activity of binding experience in more or less complex wholes, or functional pleasure; (iii) the occasional joy of finding a solution thanks to our background capacity to engage in relatively free semiotic explorations, that is, the pleasure of discovery; (iv) the dialogical pleasure of the shared activity of thinking; (v) the awareness of the activity and its pleasure, a meta-pleasure. These five aspects can be experienced in a more or less playful way and lived more or less bodily – in modulations that partly depend on the actual setting as well as on cultural norms and guidance. Chapter 5 proposes a model of the person to account for such trajectories of thinking. It first emphasises four principles we need to hold about mind based on our exploration; it then proposes an integrated model of mind; and it finally qualifies trajectories of thinking and their pleasures.

The bacio mordace, or the biting kiss, was one of the most erotic and consequently very popular poetic tropes of the late sixteenth and early seventeenth century, particularly through the poetry of Battista Guarini (1538–1612) and Giambattista Marino (1569–1625). In his later books of madrigals, particularly the Seventh Book of 1619, Monteverdi was drawn to madrigals with such provocative imagery, although in a more overt way compared to his earlier kiss madrigals of the Second Book of 1590. In his later kiss madrigals, Monteverdi sought to give a musical dimension not so much to a cerebral obsession with kisses, but rather in the execution of them. The concertato medium proved ideal to render musical poets’ syntactical play on who is kissing whom, and the degree to which teeth were involved.

We have an amazing ability to change our brains based on what we choose to do, and scientists have called this “neuroplasticity.” When we throw ourselves into a new activity, whether it is learning to play chess, a musical instrument, or a competitive sport, we forge new connections in our brains. Resilience, too, often involves learning and sticking to physical or mental habits. In this chapter you will learn a few different ways you can challenge yourself mentally, embracing curiosity along the way.

How does a person curious about or wanting to do science learn it? The thesis of this book is learning science requires not only digging deeply into the subject but learning how to learn. It is not enough to learn facts about the history of science or to study chemistry, biology, or physics per se. One must also have a sense of the roles of psychological and social factors in science. We can read about the development of Newtonian mechanics or quantum physics, but that does not tell us why Newton, or Planck, Bohr, Born, or Heisenberg studied these subjects in the first place or what thought processes they used in their work. It does not tell us how their personalities and intuition drove their work. It also does not tell us why the work of these scientists was or was not accepted by the scientific community, rightly or wrongly. Most importantly, it does not tell us why we think we know what we do or even if what we study is real. Epistemology and metaphysics are required here. This chapter explains why such knowledge is obligatory if one is to do science well.

Designers in the real world must adhere to cost and schedules, pay attention to the competition, and work in multidisciplinary teams. Their products are typically the result of incremental, rather than radical, innovation. A questionnaire on how design thinking influences organizational outcomes revealed that four beneficial practices were to form diverse teams, generate diverse ideas, emphasize active listening, and execute real-world experiments. Curiosity, interest, and a drive for sense-making drive motivation, which can be measured by the Motivation to Innovate Inventory. Innovation requires risks and thus a balance between taking and reducing risks. Both traditional and foresight forecasting reduce risks, although the foresight perspective is more uniquely suited to the current complexity of world events. Technical and scientific progress contributes to success, but the process of innovation must be analyzed within a complete system that depends not only on the product but on the market environment, production facilities, knowledge, and social support within the organization.