I think passion is built in a person. Not inherent. Sure, we’ve all got some kindling inside us. A means to make the fire, but kindling is useless without flame.
Something has to ignite us.
And even then, your passion differs.
For some, it’s a drive to be the best. To become number one. For someone else, it might be an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. The desire to know. And yet, for some, they become passionate about something else. A sport, or a game. A show, or a movie.
And for others it’s a person.
They become passionate about someone.
And for various reasons.
You like their brains, how smart they are. When you’re clueless, they swoop in and use that mega-mind of theirs to save you. Or maybe you like how strong they are. Not in a muscular sense. You like that nothing can break them. They never back down. Always stick to their guns. You might even think it’s their best feature–and you might even be right. Or, you might like their smile. That, in and of itself, can be a reason for being passionate about someone.
You can like a lot of things about a person. And a lot of things can make you passionate about someone. But even then, the passion you can have for someone differs from person to person.
Sometimes the passion is fiery. An admiration that sets you on fire every time you’re in their general vicinity. An instinct to reach out and touch them, even just a little, to link yourself to them.
Sometimes the passion is like a river. It just keeps flowing out for them in a cooling sort of way. You do your best to replenish them, because they do the same for you. I think, more or less, that’s more like a passion for friendship–a particular one, not for friendship in general, of course.
Sometimes the passion is like a rock.
Yes, like a rock.
Doesn’t seem like it makes sense, does it?
Passion is supposed to be this burning thing. This thing that makes and moves everything. Pushes forward no matter what.
But, sometimes, the thing you’re passionate about doesn’t need movement. Doesn’t need burning. Doesn’t require desire or anger or flames in your veins.
Sometimes they just need something immovable. Continue reading “Primal Passion”