Pushing into the unknown runs counter to our survival instinct. Quite simply, you’re afraid of what waits around the riverbend. The mind prefers what’s familiar—it provides stability and safety, which are essential for a peaceful life. Routine isn’t just convenient; it makes things predictable. That’s why you subconsciously repeat even harmful childhood patterns—because they’re familiar, “safe,” almost automatic. And yet, when you look back, you don’t remember the days that flowed in the same rhythm; you remember the ones that broke the pattern. Most often, the very happy moments—or the very hard ones. Have you ever talked with an old classmate and reminisced, “Remember how we got up every day, went to school, studied, and ate our sandwiches at break?” No! We’re more likely to say, “Remember how we got lost on the class trip?” or “Remember that exam three quarters of the year failed?”

New experiences allow you to grow. The world is much bigger than your neighborhood. If you sit for years in the same job, in the same position, with the same people, shop at the same store, drive the same car, and watch the same shows every evening, your life will fade. You’ll start suffocating in a gilded cage you built for yourself, imprisoned by unchanging beliefs and prejudices.

Marie Skłodowska-Curie once openly said that people fear what they don’t understand. In fact, we often simply dislike things—or even people—we don’t know. We resist getting to know them because we’re trapped within the walls of our own limitations and biases. The greatest obstacle, therefore, is ourselves. If we don’t open our minds and hearts to other perspectives, we’ll remain prisoners in a cell of our own making.

The best way to break free is to let go of prejudice and allow yourself to admit, “I might be wrong.” More precisely—to assume that everything you believe or think you know might not be true. Not to undermine your value system, but to expand your horizon.

I wrote about this—though not directly—in one of my blog posts titled “Feeling Inspired? Take Action!” There, I asked the question: Who sets the rules? and encouraged readers to consider that perhaps there are no rules at all—that we can create our own, according to how we want to live. The same principle applies to our beliefs. We can give ourselves a clean slate. The key is to ask questions with openness and genuine curiosity—just like a child would.

During one of my client meetings, I once heard:
“You know how it is with employees.”
Out of curiosity, I asked, “What do you mean?”
He replied, “No one wants to work. And when they finally do, they do nothing and still expect to be paid well.”

I truly wondered why he thought that way, so I asked, “Why do you think that happens?”
He sighed and said, “We’ve spoiled the younger generation. We give them all those benefits, so why would they bother working?”

My own experience is completely different. I have a wonderful team—people who come to work with enthusiasm. We enjoy spending time together and collaborating on projects. None of them are over thirty (yes, I’m the oldest one on the team). I told him this, and he looked at me oddly, his lips pressed into a thin line. Not realizing how emotional this topic was for him, I asked another question:
“Do you think things would be different if you built a team that shared your values and clearly communicated expectations?”

And that’s when it started—a small emotional storm. The client felt attacked, even though my questions came from genuine curiosity. Suddenly, I became the target of defensive profiling. I was told I was young and naïve, that I didn’t understand the real world, that his industry was nothing like mine, and that my remarks wouldn’t help him. He even said, “Ask your husband how it looks in his company.”

What happened here? My open questions were perceived as criticism. I was then categorized—by age, by gender, by supposed inexperience. The client had a chance to pause and consider: Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe my assumptions aren’t universal. But instead, he chose the familiar path—defending his beliefs, protecting his ego. It would’ve taken just one thought—“Maybe I’m recruiting the wrong way?”—to open a dialogue and shift perspective.
But how many of us are truly capable of doing that?

Now imagine if, instead of an adult client, a child had been sitting across from me. Would they have reacted with passive aggression? No. They would have thought about it—and answered honestly.
Don’t get me wrong—I have my own biases too. It’s not easy to go against them, but it’s possible. You can learn to listen deeply, to pause before reacting, and to engage with others without attaching your own labels to everything they say.