What is my passion? 

I’ve heard that question a lot lately; actually I’ve heard it all my life and I’ve never been able to answer it.

As a child there was never one thing that grabbed my attention completely and had me transfixed. Nothing that I was drawn to do with a single mindedness that would not be denied.

As I continued to grow, that question was always in the back of my mind. I thought that surely, as I gained experience and knowledge, that I would find my passion. Yet I never did. I was sure something was wrong with me. I was sure that I was damaged and that meant that I would never fulfill my reason for being here.

As an adolescent I would hear the bible story about not wasting my God given talents, and for the life of me I didn’t know what they were. I was sure I was doomed.

As my life progressed, I would periodically revisit this quest to discover my passion, always without success.

When Leah died and I began to listen to where I was being called, one of the things I began doing was writing my story. That led to writing my book, which led to telling my story. 

Each one of these steps progressed in a way that helped me to reclaim a part of myself that I had left behind in my childhood for many reason, some of which I have discussed in detail in previous blogs and writings.

I’ve also talked about my recently completed yearlong quest. Even though I went into it without any expectations, one of the things I hoped would come out of it was finding my passion. But it didn’t happen; at least not in the way I envisioned it happening.

This doesn’t mean that there are no pursuits that I find enjoyable. There are a lot of thing that bring me pleasure, and in the past few years I have been seeking out play, and have found new activities to enjoy. I love to paint, make collages, draw, read, dance, write, have meaningful conversations, to name a few but nothing has emerged as what I would consider a true passion.

I have often said that telling my story is a passion, and it is, because through telling my story I inspire others to live their lives fully. I know this is my life’s calling and it’s an honor to do it. 

Through it I have healed many of my childhood wounds more fully, allowing me to continue to say yes to where my life is calling me in each moment. I’ve often thought that if I hadn’t had exactly the life I did growing up, I wouldn’t be able to do this work, and while that is true, I still wanted to find that elusive passion.

I was very frustrated that I didn’t have what other people had, a driving passion that stood above all else in their lives, so last week I made this my inquiry in my daily Samyama practice. 

I recognized that I can’t stay in grief 100% of the time. I need the self- love practices that fill me up, that give me the energy and capacity to hold space for my grief work. I wanted to know once and for all where my passions lie.

And then I knew; my passion IS living my life to its fullest. 

Having fun with Dan while experiencing new and favorite past times such as going to the fair, dancing, listening to live music, laughing at shared memories, making new memories, planning our tiny home together, or sitting quietly in each other’s presence.

I found there was no limit to the experiences that make up living my life to its fullest. When I received this realization my entire body relaxed. I felt at home in my own skin, I didn’t have to be anyone other than who I was; who I am.

I never did, and it’s not lost on me that if I hadn’t said yes to my grief journey; if I had stayed in the pain and suffering; if I had chosen to stay in bed and retreat from my life; I never would have reached my fullest potential. I never would have realized that living life fully is more than enough for me.

Writing these words today, I am in awe of my journey, of the process that has brought me to this moment. I bow in appreciation to the mystery, always.