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About 35% of current jobs in the UK are at high risk of computerisation over the following 20 years, according to a study by researchers at Oxford University and Deloitte. Go to http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/technology-34066941 and type your job title into the search box below to find out the likelihood that it could be automated within the …

Continue reading “Will a robot take my job?”

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Blue Origin will deliver rovers to the lunar south pole alongside Firefly and Astrolab, as NASA moves toward a permanent base.

Ever get the feeling that you need to make a change in your business? Your pipeline has dried up, your prospective clients’ needs have changed, or something just feels “off”?

Companies have entire teams dedicated to strategy and innovation. They hold quarterly planning meetings and build roadmaps when they sense that they need to change direction.

Solopreneurs have to do this work themselves (often in between everything else they need to do to keep their business running). No one taps you on the shoulder and tells you it’s time to evolve your business. You have to recognize the signals and act on them—before your business starts to struggle. 

How to recognize the signals

According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, roughly half of all businesses don’t survive past five years. Survival goes beyond a solid start and finding your niche. You’ve got to continue to adapt even after you’re well-established.

When I worked in a corporate job, I saw firsthand what a lack of innovation could do. Eventually, a company can become irrelevant. I knew when I started my solo business that I’d always have to be on the lookout for signs that my industry was changing—and figure out how to change with it. 

The signs might be slow-moving or easy to overlook. They might also come crashing down on you (can we say AI?).

A few signals worth paying attention to:

• Your client inquiries have shifted. People are asking for things you don’t currently offer.
• Your revenue and pipeline are flat or declining, despite consistent effort.
• A technology or market shift is changing how your industry works.

One of the advantages of being a solopreneur is that you can react quickly. You don’t need committee approval to reimagine how you run your business. But speed is only an advantage if you’re moving in the right direction.

It can be really time-consuming, not to mention risky, to pivot your business. The skill you need to develop is knowing the difference between a signal worth acting on and noise you can ignore. 

When adaptation makes sense

Adaptation tends to make sense when you’ve noticed a pattern over time. Don’t pivot after a single bad month (though it might be tempting). Instead, you’re looking for ongoing, persistent shifts that tell you something needs to be adjusted in your business. 

If clients are consistently asking for adjacent services you could realistically offer, that’s a decision you have to make. If a new tool or technology could fundamentally change your efficiency or output, that’s worth exploring. Sometimes the opportunity isn’t about what you do, but who you do it for: reaching a different audience (either broader or more niche) with your existing expertise.

For example, in part of my business, I create a lot of educational resources for solopreneurs. I’ve realized that people’s appetite for self-paced courses has waned. As a result, I’ve moved to more live trainings and cohorts to reach the same audience in a new way. 

When it doesn’t

Not every signal warrants a response. A client’s change in strategy or a slow quarter might simply be a normal fluctuation, not a trend. 

If a pivot would mean abandoning expertise you’ve spent years building, pause first. And if the change requires a financial investment you can’t justify, the timing might not be right (even if the direction is). 

Solopreneurs can fall into a trap of constant reinvention if they’re not careful. I’m guilty of this because I love trying new things. The freedom to change directions without waiting for someone else’s permission doesn’t necessarily mean you should change direction. 

Chasing every new idea or market trend is exhausting. Plus, it can dilute what makes your business valuable in the first place. You’ve got to know your business and ideal customers well enough to know that a pivot makes sense. 

Evolving without starting over

Pivoting doesn’t mean scrapping everything. For most solopreneurs, it’s about incremental shifts instead of a complete reinvention. 

You might add a new service that complements what you already do, or shift your target client by moving upmarket or into a different industry. Incorporating a new tool or workflow can change how you deliver work without changing the work itself. And creating a new revenue stream alongside client work (products, courses, DFY offers) builds more financial resilience in your business. 

Innovation is a series of choices you’ll make over and over. You choose to adapt to the world around you. The solopreneurs who build businesses that last are the ones who actively evaluate what’s working, what’s shifting, and what needs to change. What feels comfortable today can change quickly, and you’ve got to know how to respond.

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Curiosity is one of the most consequential forces in human history. Every scientific breakthrough, technological leap, and cultural advance begins not with knowledge, but the desire to know. At its core, curiosity drives us to close the gap between what we know and what we want to know, a cognitive itch triggered by uncertainty and resolved through learning and the pursuit of meaning.

Curiosity as an evolutionary advantage

Early humans who explored their environments, experimented with tools, and learned from novel stimuli were more likely to secure resources, avoid threats, and pass on their genes. As a result, curiosity became embedded in our biology, reinforced by neural reward systems that make learning intrinsically pleasurable.

In line, neuroscientific research shows that curiosity activates the brain’s dopaminergic pathways, the same circuits involved in motivation and reward, which explains the positive correlation between curiosity and impulsivity. When we encounter a gap in our knowledge, we experience a mild form of cognitive discomfort. Resolving that gap produces satisfaction, reinforcing future exploration. In that sense, curiosity is a built-in, biologically coded feedback loop for learning.

But evolution also imposed constraints. Curiosity, like any adaptive trait, is beneficial only within limits. For example, there are many scenarios in which too much exploration could prove fatal. A hunter-gatherer wandering too far from their tribe risked encountering predators or hostile groups. In such contexts, restraint was adaptive. Curiosity had to be expressed with caution.

This tension between exploration and exploitation remains with us today. We are wired both to seek novelty and to prefer predictability. The familiar is efficient but boring; the unknown is exciting but costly.

History offers similar patterns. During periods of intellectual repression, such as the Inquisition, curiosity was actively punished, making individual inquiry dangerous. By contrast, the Enlightenment celebrated curiosity as a virtue, unleashing scientific and philosophical progress. The same underlying human drive manifested differently depending on cultural conditions.

Curiosity, then, is universal, but its expression is highly variable.

The paradox of AI: A triumph that threatens its own foundation

Fast forward to the present, and we are witnessing one of humanity’s greatest achievements: artificial intelligence. The convergence of mathematics, computer science, and data has enabled machines to simulate aspects of human cognition. We have, in effect, built systems that can approximate, emulate, and even surpass our thinking.

Even if AI stopped evolving tomorrow (which seems unlikely), its implications are already profound. AI can augment human capability, accelerate problem-solving, and democratize access to knowledge. It functions as a cognitive copilot, allowing individuals to perform tasks that once required entire teams.

But every technological advance also carries unintended consequences. And in the case of AI, the risks are not just economic and ethical, but psychological, too.

Specifically, AI threatens to erode curiosity.

The erosion of curiosity in the age of artificial certainty

Curiosity depends on uncertainty. It requires a gap between what we know and what we want to know. AI, by design, collapses that gap.

When answers are instantly available, prepackaged, and delivered with confidence, the motivation to explore diminishes. Why struggle with a problem when a machine can solve it in seconds? Why engage in deep learning when surface-level understanding is sufficient to get by?

This is what I have described elsewhere as “artificial certainty.” AI does not just provide answers; it creates the illusion that we understand them. The output is coherent, fluent, and persuasive. But coherence is not comprehension. The result is a shift from active to passive cognition. We consume knowledge rather than generate it. We outsource thinking rather than exercise it.

A useful analogy is physical fitness. Imagine a world where machines do all the lifting for you. Your muscles would atrophy. The same applies to the mind. Curiosity is a mental muscle, and like any muscle, it weakens with disuse. In this sense, AI is the equivalent of a microwave for ideas. It delivers fast, convenient results, but often at the expense of depth and craftsmanship. We move from “slow thinking,” which is effortful and reflective, to “fast consumption,” which is effortless but shallow.

There is also a linguistic irony worth noting. “Deep learning,” once a human aspiration, is now primarily associated with machines. Meanwhile, human learning risks becoming increasingly superficial, if not dormant. To be sure, such concerns may ultimately prove overstated, as they often have in the past. Socrates, after all, warned that writing would erode memory, fearing that reliance on external tools would weaken internal capacities. Yet history also suggests that overcorrection is safer than complacency.

There are, in fact, good reasons to be vigilant: When effort is removed from the learning process, engagement tends to decline; when answers are readily available, the incentive to question diminishes; and when cognition is outsourced too readily, the underlying skills can atrophy. The point is not to resist technological progress, but to ensure that convenience does not quietly displace the very mental habits that made such progress possible in the first place.

What the science says about cultivating curiosity

If curiosity is both essential and at risk, the obvious question is: Can it be developed?

The answer is yes, but not in the simplistic way often suggested. Curiosity is influenced by both stable traits and situational factors. While some individuals are naturally more curious than others, environments and habits play a critical role.

Before diving into what to do, it is worth pausing on a more basic question: How curious are you, really?

The first step is a proper self-assessment. Not the flattering version you might hold of yourself, but a more objective view grounded in data and external feedback.

Curiosity is closely linked to well-established personality traits, particularly openness to experience, one of the Big Five, which captures intellectual curiosity, imagination, and a preference for novelty. Science-based assessments can provide a reliable baseline here. So can 360-degree feedback, which often reveals a gap between how curious we think we are and how we are experienced by others. Even informal input from colleagues, friends, or mentors can be illuminating, especially when it highlights whether you ask thoughtful questions, challenge assumptions, or genuinely engage with new ideas.

Equally important is specificity. Curiosity is not a uniform trait. People are rarely equally curious about everything. Reflect on where your curiosity naturally shows up and where it does not. You may be deeply inquisitive about ideas but indifferent to people, or fascinated by technology but incurious about history, culture, or opposing viewpoints.

Mapping these patterns matters, because developing curiosity is not about becoming universally interested in everything. It is about understanding your blind spots and deliberately expanding into areas where your instinct is to disengage.

First, intrinsic motivation matters. Studies grounded in self-determination theory show that curiosity flourishes when individuals feel autonomous, competent, and connected to others. In practical terms, this means people are more curious when they pursue topics that genuinely interest them, rather than those imposed externally. The implication for organizations is clear: forced learning rarely produces genuine curiosity.

Second, exposure to novelty is key. Curiosity thrives on diversity of input. Interacting with people from different backgrounds, disciplines, and perspectives increases the likelihood of encountering information gaps. This is why interdisciplinary environments are often more innovative. They create friction between ideas.

Third, habits of reflection enhance curiosity. Research on learning and memory suggests that active engagement, such as writing, teaching, or debating, deepens understanding and sustains curiosity. Passive consumption, by contrast, leads to the illusion of knowledge without real insight.

Fourth, time allocation matters. Curiosity requires cognitive space. In environments dominated by urgency and efficiency, there is little room for exploration. Scheduling time for reading, thinking, and unstructured inquiry is not a luxury; it is a necessity.

Fifth, tolerance for uncertainty is crucial. Individuals with a high need for cognitive closure prefer quick answers and are less likely to engage in open-ended exploration. Developing comfort with ambiguity, through practices such as Socratic questioning or deliberate exposure to complex problems, can enhance curiosity.

Finally, there is evidence that curiosity can be trained through small behavioral interventions. For example, prompting individuals to generate questions before receiving answers increases engagement and retention. Similarly, framing tasks as puzzles or challenges can activate curiosity-driven motivation.

These findings align with the broader argument that curiosity is not a fixed trait but a dynamic capability shaped by both internal and external factors.

The role of leaders in modeling curiosity

While individual strategies matter, curiosity is ultimately a social phenomenon. It is shaped, amplified, or suppressed by cultural norms.

From early childhood, curiosity is not simply an individual trait but a product of developmental context. Parents, teachers, and early environmental experiences play a decisive role in shaping how, and whether, curiosity endures into adulthood. Research in developmental psychology shows that children whose caregivers respond contingently to their questions, encourage exploration, and tolerate uncertainty tend to develop higher levels of intrinsic curiosity.

Conversely, environments that emphasize compliance, correct answers, and performance over inquiry can suppress exploratory behavior over time. Educational studies also find that classroom climates prioritizing rote learning and standardized outcomes often erode students’ natural inquisitiveness, even when baseline curiosity is high.

Longitudinal evidence suggests that these early patterns persist, shaping adult tendencies toward intellectual risk-taking, openness, and lifelong learning. In short, curiosity is cultivated or constrained early, but its trajectory can be reinforced or reversed later, especially through social and organizational contexts.

This is where leadership becomes critical.

Leaders set the tone for what is valued. If they prioritize certainty, speed, and efficiency above all else, curiosity will decline. Employees will learn to avoid questions, minimize exploration, and focus on immediate outputs.

Conversely, leaders who model curiosity create environments where inquiry is rewarded. This does not mean celebrating randomness or distraction. It means demonstrating intellectual humility, asking better questions, and showing a willingness to challenge assumptions.

One of the most powerful signals a leader can send is admitting what they do not know. This reduces the perceived cost of ignorance and encourages others to engage in learning. It also counteracts overconfidence, which is one of the main barriers to curiosity.

Leaders can also design systems that embed curiosity into workflows. This includes allocating time for experimentation, encouraging cross-functional collaboration, and measuring not just outcomes but learning processes.

Importantly, curiosity must be linked to performance. It is not about asking more questions for their own sake, but about asking better questions that lead to better decisions.

In the age of AI, this becomes even more important. As machines take over routine cognitive tasks, the human advantage shifts to areas that require judgment, interpretation, and creativity. 

These are all downstream of curiosity. But judgment without experience is meaningless. AI can simulate answers, but it cannot substitute for the depth that comes from actually engaging with the world.

There is a difference between consuming a microwaved meal and cooking one from scratch, sourcing ingredients, understanding how they interact, and adjusting along the way. The former is efficient and convenient; the latter builds intuition, tacit knowledge, and real expertise. In the same way, relying on AI-generated outputs without cultivating firsthand learning experiences produces a thin version of competence, what might be called artificial understanding.

Curiosity, when acted upon, pushes us into those richer experiences that give judgment its substance and make our thinking genuinely our own.

Curiosity as a strategic imperative

The rise of AI has not just expanded access to information; it has quietly eroded the premium once attached to possessing it. When virtually all answers are instant, abundant, and convincingly packaged, the differentiator is no longer what you know, but how you engage with what can be known.

In that sense, the economics of expertise are shifting. Knowledge, at least in its most accessible forms, is becoming commoditized, while the capacity to interrogate, refine, and build on that knowledge is becoming scarcer and more valuable. This is where curiosity earns its value, not as a soft or “nice to have” trait, but as the underlying mechanism that sustains learning over time.

Without curiosity, the risk is not ignorance, but something more insidious: the illusion of understanding. AI can generate coherent explanations, summarize complexity, and produce plausible insights at scale. But unless these outputs are met with questioning, skepticism, and a desire to go beyond what is given, they are unlikely to translate into genuine insight or better decisions.

The danger, then, is not that machines will think for us, but that we will gradually outsource the very effort required to think well, confusing fluency with depth and access with mastery.

This places a different kind of demand on individuals and organizations. The task is no longer simply to adopt AI tools or increase their usage, but to integrate them in ways that augment rather than atrophy human judgment.

At the individual level, this implies a degree of intentionality that is often underestimated: cultivating habits that prioritize inquiry over convenience, depth over speed, and exploration over closure.

At the organizational level, it requires more than rhetoric about innovation. It calls for environments where questioning is not penalized by the pressures of efficiency, and where time spent exploring is not automatically seen as time wasted.

And at the leadership level, it demands a visible commitment to curiosity as a norm, expressed less through slogans and more through behavior: the questions senior exeuctives ask, the uncertainty they tolerate, and the assumptions they are willing to revisit, will all shape the organization’s level of curiosity and appetite for learning.

There is an obvious irony here. The more capable our machines become at producing answers, the more valuable it becomes to remain interested in the questions. This is not a nostalgic defense of human uniqueness, but a pragmatic recognition of where advantage now lies.

In a world where everyone has access to the same tools, and AI becomes as ubiquitous as smartphones, Wi-Fi, or electricity, the differentiating factor shifts to how those tools are used, and that, in turn, depends on the quality of human curiosity brought to bear on them.

Seen in this light, curiosity becomes a strategic necessity, one that shapes not only how individuals learn, but how organizations adapt and compete in an environment where knowing is easy, but understanding remains hard, and is quietly becoming a niche pursuit.

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