metis
Do you ever feel like you have a finite amount of passion? I felt this very keenly the other day, coming home from work, stopped at a light on Hawthorne. I sensed this overwhelming feeling welling up inside me, unattached to any particular situation or direction or interest. And reflexively my mind turned to thoughts of being overseas, things of that nature, and the familiar longing materialized in that direction. But it was the gap between the beginning of the feeling and its attachment to the longing that got my attention. In retrospect, I almost felt for a second or two that the passion was like a kind of currency, floating, untethered, and I could have thought about almost anything in the moment that followed its genesis and the feeling would have alighted on that area. To use an inelegant example, it was as if the passion were a shopping cart with casters on all four wheels–in that moment it can point any direction. Or perhaps the feeling was more like a coat on a coat hanger–I was poised with the closet door open and had the choice to hang my coat in between whichever two coats on the rack I wished.
It gives credence to the notion that no matter the object, our fundamental passions have an element, some would even say a core, of similarity. Some of us cannot understand how others can take such an avid interest in the things they do–football, cockroaches, online gaming, collecting, fashion, cars, dogs, celebrities–but I would argue that if those passions were examined closely there would be undeniable similarities between them. It’s largely only on what we chose to “hang” our feeling that makes the difference. Look past the surface interest and scrutinize the reactions and expressions, time and money spent, knowledge acquired, view them in a more objective light, and the common areas stand out.
I would even go farther than that, though. I would put forth that we as humans need to express passion in a particular direction. It’s as if we’re all given a finite ability to be emotionally wrapped up in an interest, and what we choose to do with that “currency” varies. Granted, it ebbs and flows, comes and goes, replenishes and dries up, but I see it almost as raw material to be shaped and cast in a specific direction. I recall the days when I owned multiple cars–my enthusiasm for one would grow at the expense of my interest in the others. I would be passionately motivated to drive and tinker on one and think of the others as little more than paperweights, driveway sculptures. The object of my directed interest would vary from month to month depending on a number of factors. Through it all, though, it was as if I had a limited amount of “car passion” to spend and when I used it up it was gone.
And it had to be spent. I think it’s like that with most folks. I visualize an orb in our cupped hands, a crystalline reservoir of feeling, to be extended, arms forward, in a specific direction. Whether it be going nuts at a sports game, spending hours poring over catalogs and eBay listings of coins, getting completely drawn into an online RPG, thumbing through fashion magazines or more altruistic directions like parenthood or a community outreach, we direct our passion every day. I want to use that knowledge and guide mine wisely, with His direction and grace.
:) I wrote a similar journal entry the other day (in my paper journal). Enjoyed reading yours.
I’m glad you enjoyed :) Who this be?
I’m not sure I completely agree with your notion that there is “a limited amount of [passion] to spend and when [it is] used it up it [is] gone.” It may be because I tend to be a “fan” of whatever I’m doing… (i.e. If someone said, “And today we’ll be scraping gum off the sidewalks with toothpicks.” My response would be along the lines of, “WAH HOO!!! GOOOOOOOOOOO TOOTHPICKS!”) But for some reason I can’t see passion being all used up anymore than I could see joy being finite. So, to me, a finite amount of passion seems oxymoronic, but I believe what you are calling finite I would call focused; in that our passions may vary (you have a passion for CS Lewis and flying, but I wouldn’t say they’re connected or in the same direction), but each passion can’t individually get too broad or they will seemingly fizzle out.
I’d most easily compare it to light. When focused just right you can burn up a tenth of the population of any given ant hill… start a small fire… or in extreme cases surgically blast apart some unreachable mass inside a person’s brain! But, if unfocused, say like the sun’s light on a cold winter day… there’s no warmth, just dim light. Just like with your passion for working on your car(s), if you tried to focus the same amount of passion towards each of them, the scope would be too broad and they would all become “little more than paperweights, driveway sculptures” (heh, sounds like something my dad would say). But at the same time, can you say you no longer have a passion for the beauty and mechanics of automobiles? (If so, then my argument’s shot!!) : )
Sorry! This be Emily.
The Deutschnets hate me.
Good points. My “finite amount” is a misleading phrasing of the concept. Perhaps “limited capacity at any given time” would be better. It’s more in line with your light example and addresses the fact that our passion is constantly being replenished, even as we’re expressing it, and doesn’t “run dry.”
yup. i invested a lot of something (i don’t know what) in being a u2 fan. knew every lyric from 1st to Nth album, knew obscure details about their lives, etc. i’m still a fan, but i don’t have any more of whatever that was to invest in them.
strangely enough, i don’t have any passion to invest in anyone else either. these days i just listen to people’s songs and am content without further knowledge. my passion for memorizing obscure trivia about anything i like has run out. even, sometimes, architecture.
i still have passion for cooking, tho. hope that one isn’t finite. my mother’s was. she doesn’t cook anymore. gave me her prized cookbook for christmas this year.
The end of geekiness?
I feel the same about my own niches.