When I think about my passion, I think about life. And death. The meaning of life, with all its hurts and joys – this is my passion. I feel things deeply and am affected by the world around me. My passion is to live a life I would be proud of if I were reading about it in a book or magazine. I would want my life to stand for something that was good, honest and conscious.
When people die, their deaths haunt me. I think about them all the time, especially those who died young, or whose lives were taken by disease or accident. When I see a blue sky on a crisp, fall day, my mind wanders to those who have died and I always think to myself, Oh, you are missing the most gorgeous day today. It saddens me that they are unable to witness the beauty of that perfect blue sky, or of the bright orange, yellow and red leaves on the trees.
I suppose some people would call me sensitive. I would have said that about myself years ago. Today, I’d call it conscious. I’m very conscious of my life, of myself and of the world. I see it for what it is, and have given up the rose-colored glasses. Things don’t really shock me anymore. People’s situations don’t send me running the other way. But it doesn’t mean I don’t question their situations in my mind or feel upset by their decisions. I just know I’m more conscious of the elements of emotion.
As a young adult I was driven by the works of The Beat Generation, the poets and writers who wrote, lived and breathed life and made it bigger than it was; those writers who burned with life. I, too, wanted to go, go, go. And I did, until I burned out. That kind of lifestyle can get you killed.
Each of us has a different philosophy of life. I used to get hooked on different gurus, people that I admired, people I thought were smarter and more talented than I was. I read books by the dozens about all kinds of interesting people and their lives. Now, as I get older, I realize my life is just as interesting, just as complicated and just as creative as anyone else’s. I see that I’m the creator, the visionary of my own life. All of those writers and scientists and creative people brought me here, to this place, where I can now rightfully claim a piece of my own heart’s desire.
My passion for life has seen me through many ups and downs. Always by my side are my friends and loved ones, urging me on. They are my soldiers, the ones who push me forward. And through our connections and our passions, whatever they may be, we carry on this journey of life, thrilled to have compatriots to negotiate the dark side of life with and to help us into the light.
Life is so sweet. There is so much to do and, it seems, so little time. As I age, time slips by so quickly; it’s almost frightening. Will I ever get to do the things I want to do before I die? Will I see my grandchildren and watch them grow? Will I see the parts of the world I have always wanted to see? Will I always be surrounded by friends and loved ones alike?
I have passion for being in the world, being in the fight, being in love, or just being. I want to continue to discover new and wonderful things every single day! Like today, for instance. I learned a new word: sate. It was a word my daughter used in an essay. I thought it was a spelling mistake, but no, she quickly pointed out it was a word. I was thrilled!
So, the journey never ends. It changes constantly. Life would be pretty dull if it didn’t. I can only be thankful for those small things that help us grow, like trees in the fall, shedding their leaves, awaiting rebirth in spring. Like I do. Every day I hope and pray that each day will be a rebirth of my heart’s desires.
Photo by Martha Farley – all rights reserved