I think I figured out what life is all about. To me at least. Life … is about passion. About being passionate about something. It doesn’t matter quite so much what exactly it is that you’re into… as long as you truly are passionate about it.
And with that realization came another one. It takes courage to be passionate. Every time you involve yourself… every time you get emotionally invested and attached to something… you take a risk. There’s always a chance you will be let down. Always a chance it may not work out the way you want and hope it to. In fact, there’s nothing that can suck the joy out of life like a dream gone bad.
There are times when I ask myself if it is really worth it. Why take such great risks with one’s own life? With oneself? Why do I do that?
I look around at my everyday life and sometimes I just want to scream, because things just won’t stop happening and I feel steamrolled. Life is supposed to be fun, right? It’s supposed to be mine. My choices. My passions. And yet somehow at times I feel like those very passions are running away with me…. Running amok… turning into monsters I have created and lost control over without even realizing how it happened. And much less WHY it happened.
That’s not fun. That’s not passion. It’s frustrating, annoying, tiring, draining, maddening, infuriating, heart-breaking…. even sometimes a little bit of a nightmare.
And yet still I am not discontent. I do not regret getting into it. I never have.
The masochistic streak in me set aside, it really isn’t about seeking misery or hardship. It isn’t about being afraid to be happy, like some have suggested. It isn’t about burying myself in ambitions and principles and expectations to the point where reality and rationality don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of getting through to me. It is never like that.
What it IS like is this… I love life. I love being out of breath, dishevelled and metaphorically dripping blood after a long hard struggle, knowing I am only stopping for long enough to wipe my brow, catch my breath and figure out which angle to attack when I storm out there again.
I was never good at routine. I was never good at being idle. I grow lazy and complacent. I stop caring. Stop involving myself. I forget my passions. Or maybe I just can’t bear to face them without acting on them. Better pretend they don’t exist at all. The thing is… they do exist. They run in my blood. Some for spells so brief they’re hardly worth mentioning in the grand scheme of things. Others lasting a lifetime. It doesn’t matter to me. They are there. Always. And I am compelled to follow them. To live with them. To act on them. To immerse myself in them… and to be swept away by them as and when necessary.
So, I lose my footing at times. And I panic. And I rage against it. I say I want it to stop. I say I want it to leave me alone. But the truth is… it’s all just part of the process. It’s all just part of me. And a part I like. And I don’t want it to change. I don’t want it to be compromised. To me… it IS worth it. Every single time. Every cut and bruise I get from it… I cherish. Every loss and defeat I have ever suffered enduring it has been glorified tenfold in the process I went through afterwards, rising again, believing again… daring again.
To me… that is what life is about. Not being afraid or ashamed to go down. And never ever staying down or aiming lower next time. I don’t pretend that is easy to understand. I don’t for a second believe that it is easy to live with – for me, OR for anyone else around me. But it is who I am. And I like that. I like my life. I like that it kicks the shit out of me on occasion … and that I can and will turn around to bust its balls at my own choosing and on my own terms.
To some that may set off an entire bunch of warning lights. It may sound a risky and unhealthy way of living. It may even sound sufficiently unsound to validate the suggestion of professional help. But I would rather live this way… take the chances I do… be as passionate as I am… make the choices I am… and know that I am being true to myself … than try to live in a way I do not feel at home with. I have in the past and I know what it does to me.
I do not ask for approval or even understanding. It is not a matter of debate or discussion. It is a choice I made a long time ago for myself. And one I keep making again every time I am forced to choose between this and something else. Or someone else.
There are sacrifices… sure. And I live with those too. That’s what passion is all about, isn’t it? Believing in something so much that it is worth the potential risk, derision, loss and rejection … even if you’re the only one to see it … until one day you meet someone else who gets it too.
Passion and belief… that’s all there is to it. That’s what life is about for me. And it is well worth it whatever anyone else may think.