It's a question you wouldn't think I'd have to actually ask. I mean, the answer lies within me and really, I'm the one who ought to know it. I ought to know it all the time, right? I mean, how can you be passionate about something and not know? A niggle of dread teases at my consciousness as I consider the possibility that I'm not passionate about anything. I mean, if I don't know, I must not be, right?
Well. Reading some back-dated blogs today, as I catch up on my me-time, I've decided to put the question out there, to myself and to the universe. I don't expect answers to come from readers (though if ideas come to you, I'd be interested to hear what those who know me or read what I write see me as passionate about). Simply, I felt the need to write, and to do and to write about something I'm passionate about. And since I'm not sure just now, what that is just now, the result is this: the question itself.
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For one thing, I know I like pretty things, whimsical things, ethereal things. It sounds simplistic and materialistic, but visual beauty really does tend to evoke strong emotional responses from me. I love bright colours that blend from one to another. I like to watch butterflies, and take pictures of interesting plants. I love things shiny and sparkly. I love old, crumbling architecture with as much aesthetic as structural value. I love looking at things with visual complexity and varied dimensionality, like enaustic art and collage. I love musical mashups and artistic alterations that blend one beautiful thing with another beautiful thing to make a new beautiful thing. I hoard pretty things that are broken, in the hope that I can find a use for them that will harness their prettiness. I feel as though all of these feelings come from a single place of love for beauty. But it's hard to pin that down into a specific and, perhaps more pertinently, act-on-able passion.
I love to retell stories, and to talk about things with other people who have similar interests or who have lived the same stories. I'm not sure whether this qualifies as a passion. Isn't this just something everyone does? I don't really know!
I love to make people's faces light up, whether in wonder, in laughter, in realization. I like to be the source of or the hand pointing to the "ooohhhhh!" moments. That's one of the things I love about teaching.
I love the sensation of touch. Massages and shoulder rubs are like my personal slices of heaven. Fingers playing with my hair can soothe me to sleep. Hugs and cuddles with loved ones make me feel wrapped in love. My heart melts when kids put their little hand in mine for comfort or when my niece deigns to let me rock her to sleep.
I am wild about music. I'm not sure that this is any different from my love of pretty things, except perhaps that with music, I am also often tuned in to added layers of meaning, and meanings are important to me too.
I often feel driven to be perfect. This sounds both trite and unrealistic, and tends to get me into trouble with M in particular. However, what I mean by it is, I want to become, and then maintain the best person I can be. Soon, and permanently. This seems like the purpose. This best-ness involves being productive, valuable, and happy in my own skin. In order to be happy, yes, I have to manage my time well. Working on that. But I also need something I can focus excess energy into that is just for me and that I want to be doing and want to make time for. In order to live in the present, I need to have a reason to be present here and now, rather than longing for all the beauty, stories, music of the past, or panting after the next future indication of neededness and belovedness.
What I would love, is to be able to find ONE single thing that I could consistently throw myself into, as a pastime, a hobby, an outlet. Something satisfying, doable, yet involving. Something that would allow me to exercise all these things and be content with just it, rather than always looking for a way to do ALL the things my heart calls me to do. Or rather, that would provide for all the things my heart calls me to. Without driving me nuts. Or burning through my pocketbook.
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