Fincastle Methodist Church 2006This will be introspective. I have things weighing on my mind.
I have never had a passion for anything, well, except my husband. I do not have a "hobby" that I can't live without (unless you count writing, which is my work). I don't knit or crochet, though I have done both. I have four guitars which I play about three times a year. I used to be passionate about guitar playing, but life and circumstances drilled that out of me completely.
I enjoy taking pictures. I used to write a lot of poetry but seldom do that anymore. I have trouble completing long-term projects as evidenced by the several novels in the drawer that will never see the light of day.
I know a lot about many things. I am the jack-of-all-trades, the non-specialist who can whip out an article on just about any topic, given a little time and research. But I have no specialty niche. I am not passionate about medicine or health care, or alternative care, although I think that is much better for a person than the present business health care model; I do love to read. I make time for books and for reading.
But I wouldn't call reading the words of others a passion. Not really.
I like to drive but I am not passionate about it. I will gladly hand over the wheel in heavy traffic. I enjoy cuddling and being affectionate. I like having friends. I like stimulating conversation. I will argue local politics and I know a tremendous amount about local government. I can cite the Virginia Freedom of Information Act in my sleep. I enjoy college courses and I enjoy learning new things.
I can't draw for anything, though I took art classes in college. I like children but not so much that I want to spend a great deal of time with them these days; I am not passionate about religion.
Today it strikes me that there is nothing to me, nothing that defines me, nothing that someone sees and says "Oh, that's like what A. would do." Well, maybe my columns and articles. Someone might read a similar column and say, "Oh, that's like what A. would write."
I am kind of saddened to realize that I am 43 years old and have nothing that defines me. I also suspect I am looking at this through glasses that are colored very dark today, but I am not sure how to change the lenses.
After all, I am not a bad person, or mean, or angry. I try to be nice and helpful and generous and caring and loving. All I really want out of life is quiet, good health and enough money to keep the bills paid up. I don't ask for much, do I? Maybe I do.
I wonder if there is a way to become passionate about something, a way to be more than empty vessel who responds to the days as they come.
I think most of us have periods like this. I know I do ... when I wonder what it's all about and if the things I do amount to anything. I once said...I don't like anything enough to want to do it day in and out. That's why I don't really like "jobs." I like gardening and dancing but don't want to do them every day. The only mainstay for me, like you, is writing, but with that sometimes I feel driven by it and it does feel like work most of the time. I don't think I would want to do it for a real living. Earlier in my life I tried many crafts but none have stuck to this day. I like taking pictures too. That's about it. You're not alone.
ReplyDeleteNo, I am not alone, thanks for the reminder. I have often thought life would be easier if you were passionated or one-tracked or something, but there surely is a need for people such as myself, jills of all trades who know lots about many things, with little specialization....
ReplyDeleteI was thinking about this blog-post last night on my drive home. It seems to me that most people who are really passionate about some things are just working out some unresolved issue/demon. Perhaps you are at peace?
ReplyDeleteI really like that idea. Thanks.
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