A Curious Mind Expanded Edition: The Secret to a Bigger Life - Hardcover

Introduction to the New Edition
Curiosity to the Rescue I think, at a child’s birth, if a mother could ask a fairy god- mother to endow that child with the most useful gift, that gift would be curiosity.—Eleanor Roosevelt 1 
 
It was June 27, 2022, and I was at the United States Military Academy at West Point to deliver my son Patrick to his plebe year as a cadet.
That day was also the change-of-command ceremony for the head of West Point—the outgoing superintendent was being rede- ployed to be the head of U.S. Army forces across Europe and Africa—and I was in the audience to see the new head of West Point take command.
The ceremony was conducted by the Army Chief of Staff, Gen- eral James McConville, and all of a sudden, in the middle of this very formal, buttoned-down event, McConville said, “We have with us in the audience today an Oscar-winning movie producer—Brian Grazer.” And he pointed in my direction. I couldn’t have been more stunned. I smiled and nodded as people turned to look at me.
Then McConville said, “We’d really like him to make the Army version of Apollo 13.”

                             
I get ideas for movies all the time, from all kinds of people.
But not usually delivered in public by the highest-ranking officer in the U.S. Army, in front of a hundred other senior officials of all kinds.
But McConville wasn’t really suggesting a movie idea. He was laying down a challenge.
After the ceremony, General McConville and another general found me in the audience, and he told me he was quite serious about trying to intrigue me with the possibility of getting the Army into the movies.
He certainly piqued my curiosity.
That’s how I came to find myself—just ten weeks later—strapped into an M1 Abrams tank, maneuvering in the middle of the desert.
That morning, I’d woken up at home in Santa Monica.
I’d gone with a handful of colleagues to an airport in Burbank, where we boarded a pair of Black Hawk helicopters and flew to Fort Irwin, the U.S. Army’s largest training center, which comprises about one thousand square miles of Mojave Desert, twice the land area of Los Angeles.
We’d watched soldiers training. We’d been shown a range of Army weapons and had the chance to fire some of them. We’d had a lunch of MREs, which are exactly as unappealing as you’ve heard. We’d tramped through the desert, ending up covered in dust.
And now, in the midafternoon, I was deep inside an M1, trying to absorb what it must be like to crew a battle tank for real—or even in one of Fort Irwin’s live-fire exercises. It was like nothing I’d ever done before—the confines of the tank cockpit, the heat (tanks don’t have air-conditioning), being immersed in the smell of metal and oil and lots of previous crew members.
During two days at Fort Irwin, we got up close with some of the equipment the Army uses every day—we hopped on and off those Black Hawks a half dozen times—and we also got to know scores of

                                                                           
young people, how they’d come to be in the U.S. Army, what they liked about it, what they didn’t like about it.
I wasn’t at Fort Irwin to learn how to drive an M1, of course. I was there, with a dozen people I make movies with, including a writer we’d asked to come along, to get a flavor of the U.S. military today, especially the people.
I was following my curiosity—we were all following our curiosity. What’s the modern Army like? What are the people in the Army like? Where’s the story moviegoers could connect with?
We learned a lot talking to the soldiers. Two things in particular have stuck with me.
I asked what was fun about being a soldier.
“Any time a group of us has a really hard task,” one soldier said, “and we’re sucking at it, that forms a bond. The tasks often aren’t fun, but the bonds we form doing them are. They’re rewarding.” More than rewarding, of course: That training creates the shared experi- ence and the trust that will serve these soldiers if they end up on a battlefield together.
Another soldier explained why, when we have such sophisticated drones, we still need people on the ground: soldiers trained, equipped, ready to deploy anywhere in the world.
Why ever put Americans directly in harm’s way?
Because, he said, it’s people who understand other people. “Human connection—human influence—that can’t happen with
drones,” the soldier said. “You win by influencing people, not killing them.”
And the way to influence people is with human connection. By showing up in person.
The soldiers we talked to were excited to give outsiders a taste of their world. And we were thrilled to spend two days out in the desert in Fort Irwin, away from screens and everything else, immersed in their world.

                             
I’m compelled to take on the challenge of making an inspira- tional and highly entertaining action film about the men and women who sacrifice for our country as members of the United States Army. Given the fair share of Army films set on the battlefield, I want to ensure that this project is special and different than what we’ve al- ready seen.
And the points those two soldiers made will be woven through- out it: Sometimes life sucks, but if it sucks together, that creates con- nections and value that can’t be created any other way.
 
Curiosity allows us to reinvent the world, as we continue to innovate with new technologies like AI and expand our creativity. It’s impor- tant to note that curiosity cannot be found in anything other than humans. AI doesn’t have or initiate curiosity. It doesn’t have a con- sciousness; it doesn’t feel fear or pain; it can’t process feelings of hurt or a broken heart. But more distinctly, it doesn’t carry a soul. Artifi- cial intelligence is simply a patchwork of those human ingredients to create seemingly original and authentic stories. It’s our responsibility to remember the difference.
 
Curiosity is the tool we use to solve problems—big problems, urgent problems, and our own problems. It was the curiosity of people who run pasta companies and flour mills, mask factories and seaports and middle schools. And every one of our own families too. With AI in the mix, both human curiosity and contact will become all the more powerful in the era of tech.
Having lived through uncertainty reminds us of the uncertainty we live with every day. If you don’t understand a problem, you can’t fix it. And the first step to understanding is leaning into the uncer- tainty, leaning into the not knowing. Asking questions.

Curiosity opens the door to adaptability. Curiosity also...