Passion

Without passion, something that really sets me on fire, I’m a lost soul floating aimlessly in this vast sea of life. Colors are muted and sounds dull. Energy is low, patience is even lower and my overall outlook can be a little on the negative side. Ok. More than a little. To be honest, I pity those that have to be around me in those passionless times.

I’ve battled this for years. Why oh why can’t I just see where I am in life as a wonderful, blessed place and not have want for a thing? Does this need for drive, a focus, even an obsession mark me as a narcissist? That thought alone bothers me the most. But, alas, even after meditating on all I have to be grateful for, I feel that lack of passion as if I woke up to discover my own right arm missing.

When I’m in the throes of a passion, I’m literally on fire. Nothing and no one stops me from reaching my goal, and I have achieved some mighty lofty things. An excellent example is my passion for helicopters. I wanted to be a pilot. It took a lot of blood, sweat and tears, money and work, but I finally did it, and I’ve never looked back. While others with more money than I ever had lamented about their inability to afford flight training, I ploughed forward and found a way. It’s just very simply a refusal to give up.

Today a friend posted this quote on Facebook, which was superimposed over a photo of Monument Valley (a place with special meaning to my helicopter dreams), and I literally sighed when I read it: “Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray.”

That quote and one that goes something like “God doesn’t give you a passion without first giving you a way to achieve it” are pretty much my gospel.

So what happens when there isn’t a goal to focus my energy? Since moving home I was singularly focused on family. I wanted kids. I had kids. Said kids fill up so much of my time that I’m starting to notice the loss of parts of my old self I liked. My body is going, I don’t have the time or money to fly anymore, I spend little time with my closest friends, and I have a deep sense of something missing.

Once I get past the extreme guilt of feeling the need for more when my life is so full, I can finally see what is really missing is just a sense of passion. I’ve been here before. It’s a treacherous mountain top to traverse. I must watch my footing, assuring I don’t slip into a false pursuit just to feel energized. Going after a goal for the simple rush of passion, forsaking all else, can be hazardous to all I already have. I have responsibilities. I can’t just leave to go study elephant mating habits in Zimbabwe (for example). I must sit quietly and let myself be silently drawn. But to what? I have no clear idea what will spark my next passion, but my yearning for it only grows with each day, fueled by a discontent at work.

Sitting quietly, the gentle tug toward the helicopter industry takes hold. I’m overcome with an urge to spend time with old helicopter friends and make new ones. The aviation bug is stirring in some way. Where will it take me? Or is it just an echo of the largest passion that ever moved me?

I only hope I have the patience to wait for the strange pull to guide me true.

Tagged as: passion