Passion Pit

Have you ever wanted to do something so badly but fought it with every ounce of your being? You spend as much time dreaming about it as you do avoiding it, and even you don’t understand why?

Writing is that thing for me. And I hate writing about writing because it feels cheap, easy and full of excuses. Then again, even that is an excuse for avoiding something I love so much. But this isn’t about writing. This is about that thing that calls your name. That can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t even breathe a day without thinking about it thing. It’s the thing you see around every corner and finds life in every conversation. Like new love, it borders obsession. Whether you choose to admit it or not, it is your passion. It is the passion living deep in the pit of your soul, crying out for attention, aching for time in your day. 

So tell me, what is that thing that aches in the pit of your soul?

Writing is my ache. It is my ache and my burden. It pains me, yet satisfies something deep inside of me that can be quenched by nothing else. When I feed that ache it swells and subsides like a muscle torn open only to be strengthened in healing. When I ignore it, I acclimate to the pain of a life un-lived, where I live, yet never thrive. 

Life, I am learning, is and will always be full of excuses. I am a list maker by nature, a calendar keeper by design. I yearn for days of nothing, yet inadvertently clamor to fill each day as if a busy day validates my place on this earth. 

Sometimes though, there are hours, or even days, where the clouds part ways, the sun shines through and miraculously, I have nothing to do. Nothing to do but avoid the very thing I want to be doing. I cook, I clean, I cross things off my list I didn’t even know were there like cleaning out the vacuum and organizing my craft supplies...again. It’s like nesting for something that needs no nesting, preparing for something that needs no preparation. I convince myself if I do all these things, if everything is done, then I’ll be able to write. If I’m in just the right mood, then I’ll be able to write. If inspiration strikes at just the right time, then I’ll be able to write. 

Then, then, then. 

When is “then” really? I’m finding that “then” is an elusive term with no real backbone. It likes to trick us into thinking we’re on a journey to an end that has no map. While the no map part may be true, I firmly believe it’s up to us to put “then” aside and start doing. Start walking, start trying, make a few wrong turns here, and few stumbles there. Eventually you’ll get to the first destination on your map, if by nothing else than grit and determination and a few helpful hands. 

If I want to be a writer, then I have to write. That’s all there is to it. If I want to be an artist, I have to create. If I want to travel, I have to buy a ticket. 

I can make excuses all day, offering my vacuum cleaning skills to neighbors and friends, organizing craft closets and spice cupboards all day, but what good is that? What good is avoiding the thing that makes me stronger? The thing that makes me, me?

So here I stand at a precipice. Step forward and take a chance on the inner voice that hounds me everyday, or turn my back only to spend a lifetime wondering what could have been. Maybe that sounds dramatic, but that’s how it feels for me. It feels serious. It feels like a big deal and the choice is mine. 

Where do you stand? If there is something calling out to you, or maybe there are a few things, then I think it’s time. It’s time for you, and time for me, to give it a shot. To stumble, to fall, to try. Write, draw, go back to school, pursue a career or a boy or be your own boss. Your steps don’t have to be big, but you do have to take them. Feed that ache in your soul. If your ache is anything like mine, he probably likes time most of all.