What are you passionate about? It is the million-dollar question of life. What makes people do the things that they do, why are we selfish, and ultimately what really makes you and I human? Is it because we feel, think, and desire? What drives us to wake up every morning to go to work, school, wherever, to live our lives in routine and be complicit to our environment? What makes life living, and how many of us actually think about this more than a brief second every now and then?
Lately, I’ve been wondering about purpose. Specifically, what makes what we do purposeful? There’s no scale for measurement besides a self-scale, but invariably that changes, and what if that changes so much that you just don’t know what your purpose is? That’s where I am at this very moment. I always thought I knew what that purpose was to me. I’m admitting defeat, right here and right now.
In high school, there was clear purpose to everything I did… college. I took the classes I needed to take, to fulfill and exceed the requirements to get into college. I did extra-curriculars because I enjoyed them, but at the same time, they looked good on the college application. And ultimately I knew that I was working my ass off to get to college, where I would get a new purpose. It didn’t bother me that I didn’t know what that purpose would be, but I figured that it would come to me. Hell… learning would be my purpose since that’s what college was supposed to be about.
No worries, reality hit me like a dump truck. Learning isn’t the purpose of college, getting a job is, and that thought sickens me. Don’t get me wrong. I know I need to acquire the skills that will provide a roof over my head and pay the bills, and I’m supposed to find that passionate purposeful yet lucrative path in college, all while having the best time of my life. Personally, that idea is a load of crap. I’ll give that idea one thing… it made me realize everything I don’t want to be. All while making me realize that perhaps what I thought was my purpose for the next two years, really isn’t what I need or should be doing for that matter.
It’s quirky how life is like that. This realization of so many passionless souls walking aimlessly around frightens me to death because I don’t want to be one of them. That thought has brought me to a turning point in my life. I’m not sure exactly what that turning point is, but it’s there, which is something at least.
It’s this ongoing struggle of possibilities, of taking the road less traveled in life. Not taking the easy way, the get a major, find a job and whaala… you’re on a happy route. Needless to say, I’m still searching for that thing that I hope is out there that will galvanize me, something that’ll set off the passion-meter. All I know is, the mundane isn’t quite for me.
This dawning of the concept of working and working and working to get somewhere, but where is this somewhere place? It’s supposed to be better than where you were before, and from that you’re supposed to be happy and have the things that you want to have, and then you die. People work and work but are they really happy or passionate? Maybe that’s why so many Americans have midlife crises. That’s something to ponder.
I suppose that’s why this idea of passion has weighed heavily in my mind lately. I want to be passionate about something. I want to know what’s its like to truly and fully love my life. To make my life worth living for me, and to be able to breath a sense of relief knowing that little secret. Then, wouldn’t life be nice?