Day 3

Day 3 out of 365 days of finding my passion.  It was another busy day but this time filled with the emotional stuff that mom’s go through when their children say things like, “What’s that smell? Is that dinner?”  Then their husband saying things like, “Why are you having such a bad day?  You’re not doing anything but working from home.”  Just not a good day.  I kept hoping that I would get time to run to my desk and start writing, researching and get to the meat of this journey but that didn’t happen.  (By they way, never ever say “those things” to your wife if she is a stay at home mom…just don’t do it.  If you ever want to see dinner on the table again, don’t do it! Enough said?)

So when I got the chance, I started looking at Dr. Phil’s “Steps to Finding Your Goals.”  At the beginning of his article, he says” Successfully executing any personal strategic plan for change requires that as you develop your plan, you effectively incorporate these seven steps for attaining each and every goal ” which I was hoping to at least get started today, by looking at Step 1.

“Step 1. Express your goal in terms of specific events or behaviors.  For a dream to become a goal, it has to be specifically defined in terms of operations, meaning what will be done.  When a goal is broken down into steps, it can be managed and pursued much more directly.  “Being happy,” for example, is neither an event nor a behavior.  When you set out to identify a goal, define what you want in clear and specific terms,” according to Dr. Phil.

As I contemplated over those words, I realized that I needed to first define for myself and find the answer to this question “what is passion?”  After looking it up in several dictionaries, the most common definitions were like these which you can find in the Merriam-Webster Dictionary. “Passion” as an emotion is defined as:

4. a (1): emotion <his ruling passion is greed> (2)plural: the emotions as distinguished from reason. b: intense, driving, or overmastering feeling or conviction. c: an outbreak of anger

5. a: ardent affection : loveb: a strong liking or desire for or devotion to some activity, object, or concept. c: sexual desire. d: an object of desire or deep interest.

If I took those definitions and looked retrospectively into my life, could I say that I had a passion for something…anything and could I say that it was passion?  In looking back into my childhood, I can say that I had several things that gave me huge, unbridled joy and “overmastering feelings” or devotion.  These were things that kept me wanting to do more of it and more and more.  One was playing cello.  I remember, closing my eyes and just playing, listening to every sound it made when the bow vibrated each string.  I would move with the music, loving every second I was behind my cello.  I learned to play when I was 7 years old and I played until just after junior high.  I dropped it because I was rebelling against my parents.  Sadly, my parents couldn’t get me to pick it up again.  I eventually would start playing after college until I became pregnant with my son and had to sell my cello to make ends meet.  Unfortunately, I was about to audition for a local symphony…a dream that never came to be.  To this day when I listen to the cello being played by musicians like Yo Yo-Ma, every sounds make me feel like “I’m home.”

The other things, were singing and playing piano.  My mom started to teach me piano at the age of 5 and I began singing a little bit afterwards.  Again, every time I played, I loved the way the piano sounded and I loved mastering difficult pieces.  Just as my cello playing was dropped, so did my piano playing at around junior high school.  As for singing, at about the age of 8 or 9 years old, one of my relatives or friends (I don’t remember specifics) heard me singing and said, “Who originally sang that song?”  I answered back who ever the artist was who sang that song.  Then they said, “Yah…you should let them sing it because you stink.”  I never sang again.  Although, I remember how it used to feel when I sang.  I could match pitch and play with harmonies, which was so much fun but now give me microphone, my throat tightens up and you can’t get anything out of me but whispers.

Then there’s writing.  I didn’t remember how much I loved to write until I started blogging.  When I was a little girl, I would take a notebook, a pencil, an eraser and sit for hours just pouring out stories after stories onto paper.  As I got older, although I wasn’t writing stories anymore, I still loved to write; even if it was reports for school.  I love thinking through ideas, putting them to pen and watching them evolve from there.  I love it!  If I could, I would write and write and write.  I find it cathartic and soothing.  Actually, it was my daughters who got me to start writing again.  One day, the house was quiet so I went looking for my kids to see why.  Both of my daughters, were at the kitchen table furiously writing.  When I asked if they were doing homework, they both said, “Nope, we’re writing books.”  All of sudden my heart felt full.  All the memories from when I was a little girl came back and I felt a strange joy.

So, if you asked me today…”have you ever felt passion?”  I can honestly say that, “Yes, I believe that I have” and how I would that define passion is this.  It is that feeling that comes from that “certain something” that gives you huge joy, overwhelming desire to keep doing it, mastering it and evolving with whatever it is because you love watching what happens when you push yourself and whatever you’re passionate about, more and more.  Testing the boundaries for yourself and your passion, to see how far you can go.



Blog response: I want to say....

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s