Passion Fruit

Last night, my wife and I were laying in bed talking about various cities we've visited together and New York came up in the discussion.

"I must be in the minority," she said with certainty, "I did NOT like New York! While I was there, it felt like money was the only thing people there cared about. I guess that's why I like D.C.," she continued, "people by in large aren't there to make money, they're there because they have a passion that drives them." She continued on to talk about the various people she got to know during her AARP internship and how she felt revived by their passion.

And then the bombshell:

"I guess what bothers me most are people who have no passion."

Shortly thereafter my wife was out cold, and her last words before slumber echoed in my head as her deep, methodical breathing serenaded my thoughts. I agree with her. Not having a passion has been a long standing issue I have had with myself. I've written in the past how my life does seem a bit empty without some source of passion or drive. I commented on those whom I envy mastered the incredibly difficult task of pursuing passion while meeting real world obligations. Her words sparked a new found investigation to discover what I felt I was missing.

"What is a passion?" I asked myself, "and what makes it different from a hobby?" What made those aforementioned friends able to pursue that passion? My conclusion is that a passion is something that appeals to the soul so much that to pursue it becomes compulsory; and not to pursue it, consequently, is to deny the very definition of one's identity. Though some may contend that this definition maybe lacking or skewed, it makes sense to me because it validates my feelings that not having a passion does leave me with a sense of emptiness, a lack of self-definition, if you will.

I began to think about what activities or interests would appeal to my inner self so much that they would be compulsive by nature. Photography? Acting? Film? These activities are/were hobbies of mine, but they aren't interests whose pursuit of which I would risk impoverishment. Maybe that makes me a coward; maybe it makes me practical. Either way, the difficulty in identifying that which could define who I am and my place within this world grows increasingly disturbing.

Then I think about my family. I'm passionate about my wife. Doesn't that count? After further consideration, I reject this notion. To place a passion, the definition of one's self, on the sheer presence of another in one's life places an unfair responsibility upon that person. It's living and defining my life using my significant other as a proxy. (I can't say I'm innocent of this as I have difficulty figuring out how to amuse myself alone while April is gone; but that's a topic for another day.)

What about my work? Working for a government agency which is the bread and butter for over 49 million Americans nationwide can easily be something that one could be passionate about. However, some aspects of my job require me to assume the worst of people rather than the best, which rubs against the grain of my personality and values. To that end, I do enjoy being in a position to help those who truly deserve it. Through my own experiences, I absolutely hate watching bad things happen to good people (I moreover hate being the barer of bad news to good people). I've occasionally had the means and the opportunity to give back to those who have given so much to others, and make a positive difference in their lives. That fuels me.

Now, this is not to say that my job is a source of passion for me. These opportunities are much too seldom to energize me through my day or give me any lasting sense of identity. However, it does illuminate to me aspects and values that may lead me closer to a concrete passion. But one question lingers on the horizon of this discovery:

Once I find this self-consuming passion, how will I balance it against my other priorities as a husband and as a father one day? Maybe this is why all those passionate friends I know are single.