“Passion”
has become one of those words you can hardly avoid. Barely a day goes by that
you don’t hear someone asking someone (sometimes you), “What are you passionate
about?”
We’re
encouraged to “follow our passions” and led to believe that life is not worth
living if we’re not “passionate” about something.
The more I
think about it, the more I’ve come to realize that the only thing I’m
passionate about is not being passionate.
What’s the
point of believing you are that intensely enthusiastic about something? About
anything? Will you enjoy it more? Will you achieve more? Will it hold your
interest any longer?
I doubt it. It
seems unlikely you are “passionate” about the same things you were “passionate”
about, say, a decade ago. Or even last year.
To my way of
thinking, if you can’t get up the gumption to do what you want or like to do
without whipping yourself into a passion, why bother? If you want to do
something (as a famous maker of footwear for “passionate” runners used to say),
just do it.
I like to
write. I enjoy the time I spend writing. I try to write well, and work at doing
so.
But I can’t
say I’m “passionate” about it. I feel no need to work myself into a frenzy
before stringing words together, nor do I feel I’m a failure if I decide to
trim my toenails one day rather than whip out a sonnet.
Maybe I’m just lazy. Apathetic. Ambivalent. Or
dull. But it could be that I favor that old nugget of wisdom from the Greek
poet Hesiod: “Moderation in all things is the best policy.”
So, I ask
you: What are you moderate about?
