I envision that in my old age, after all the major phases of life have passed, I’ll often ponder back on my old emotions. I’ll spend time remembering how long it took me to classify and name them all and how hard it was to tame them to the point that I can appear in public without incident. I’m sure by then they will sit in my mental tool box as neatly arranged packages, patiently waiting until I decide which ones I need to use for life’s, now commonplace, occurrences. I imagine that by then they will know how to take their turn and so very few of them will take me by surprise. Even if I am by chance caught off guard, I will have already developed a technique for being caught off guard and so will not cause anyone alarm. Thus all this time I now spend starring endlessly at my ceiling, pondering what the hell just happened, will eventually be spent on more practical tasks. Though I am sure I will miss these oh so wild states of fits and passion that currently embarrass and haunt me. I will probably yearn to encounter new pieces of myself and wish that it all wasn’t so well organized….
With many things, except money, I often do not dread the worst-case scenario the most. I dread the mediocre scenario. This is because if the worst-case happens, I am pretty damn sure that I will not go do it again. I will rationalize all sorts of reasons for why that particular “worst” is definitely not going to enter into my paradigm ever again, and I will build coping mechanisms (i.e. habits) that ward against these defined “worsts”.
But after having gone through a mediocre scenario, the passion derived from the “worst” escapes me. I have no real reason to repeat and no real reason not to repeat.
It is like a bad date, I know I will never see and/or date the guy again because of the disastrous events and feelings associated with the date, but at least I have a funny, drama filled story to tell. But a mediocre date, oh god, I could be doomed to repeat the same vanilla over and over in my efforts to force some value or at least a tickle of a feeling of excitement. But that is just one example.
The point is not to avoid the mediocre, it is to know what mediocre means and to learn from it sooner, rather than later. Identifying the mediocre makes the exciting shine.
I get discouraged by passions creeping up on me. For many of them, I just naturally orient myself in their direction only to discover later that I am fact passionate about something. It leaves me wishing I had realized my talent earlier so that I could have been even better at it by now.
Passion is definitely a love, a real love affair with part of the self. It is in you and can only come out of you if you do what it takes to get it out. There is something so special in being passionate about oneself. I’ve just been doing it, making sure that I am taken care of. “love, love, love, love, I love, love love Love.”
The difficulty is that I believe that I am so complete inside that I do not seek out what I may be missing in the outside world. I don’t even want to try sometimes because if something isn’t working for me I crave being by myself, where I know all my mental cookies are there to feed me.
This habit leaves me with a looming fear that I am missing something in exchange for the things I like doing so much. Since I don’t really like missing out on cool things, this fear speaks volumes. Maybe I just need to learn to enjoy missing cool things… by why would I? what would be the benefit? To avoid giving the fear so much power? I guess I would change this trait of mine once the fear got to be too overwhelming and made it impossible to find enjoyment in the situation. I hate how fear does that to me. Takes the fun out of so many enjoyable ideas.
I keep glancing back and forth between the word “passion” written on my right hand and the word “patience” written on my left hand. Perhaps the confliction between the two wouldn’t be so difficult if I weren’t able to write with both hands.