Passion

Passion- any strongly felt emotion/intense desire, ardent affection, or enthusiasm
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I’m busy, and I like it that way. Once in a while I like the opportunity to kick off my shoes and silence my mind, but there are to do lists zipping by and tasks that beg to be checked off. All the while, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Here’s why.

I choose it. Yep. I do it to myself, and I do it for myself.

A long, long time ago (ok not that long ago, maybe three years, two months, and a few days ago) someone told me she didn’t see that I was passionate about anything. It didn’t seem to matter, that at the time, I was quite passionate about her, just FYI. (See definition)

That sort of hurt. By sort of, I mean it sort of hurt like I imagine getting run over by a car sort of hurts.

You see, I have always thought of myself as a passionate person. Oh yeah, I have the actual word tattooed on my back. Well, it’s a symbol actually, Japanese. I was young, and perhaps it was a bad decision, but you get my point. Don’t judge.

I had always been the girl that never needed pushing. I pushed myself. If there was something new to try I’d do it. I was the girl who did math for fun. I was the girl who practiced the dance till exhaustion cause dancing was amazing, and practiced her violin to relax, because music. I acted, I played, I sang, painted, geez, I wanted to do freaking EVERYTHING, and I did.

Ok. Then college, then grad school, then believing in something, then protests, then voting, then Chicana power, then gay rights, then EVERYTHING! Ehem, passion.

Phew, and here was this woman, standing in front of me, telling me that she didn’t think I was passionate… about anything. Blink…(silence) blink, blink.

The sad part was, she was right, if just for that moment. In all of my ridiculous passion for her, I lost the passion for me, and all the things that mattered most to me. Cliche? Perhaps, but it’s cliche cause it’s a common occurrence that happens to lots of people, which then sends it to the realm of unoriginal cause it is, which
makes it cliche. I’m going in circles here.

So…I went and started being everything I knew I was. Now I’m awesome again. The end.

Not really. But really, after a while, (a long while, consisting of over consumption of alcohol, under consumption of food, and months of over analyzing and reflecting)I realized she wasn’t really talking about me, not the real me. She couldn’t be, and finally, I understood that it didn’t matter that much anyway. What mattered was that she didn’t and couldn’t see me at all. She had no idea who I was or who I wanted to become, and had no interest in finding out.

That brings me to now. Why on earth am I still thinking about this and her and what impact she made blah blah blah. Who cares already?

I do. All of it matters. She was a kind of backhanded motivation after all. Applause. The applause are for me. Whatever the motivation, positive or negative, (and we’ve already seen that it was quite on the negative side of the spectrum) I have fully come back to myself. I am me, the me who pushes herself, who is adventurous, fearless, and fierce. I am who I want to be, and all the tasks on my plate are of my choosing. Now, passion is a conscious choice. It’s where my groove is. It’s my jam. It’s making choices one after another to do the things that matter. It’s me, being fully present in every moment possible. It’s who I’ve always been.

Yeah, so maybe we all need a break sometimes, me included. But for me, I know that break will only be long enough for me to reflect and refuel. Then, it’s up and at ’em. There’s lots of life to be lived, and only so much time to live it. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned about myself in my 37 years, it’s that I’m passionate about life, all of it.

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