When I was a teenager, my chemistry teacher and his wife graciously took me in and gave me a place to stay. I was about to graduate high school and determined to run into adulthood and make my mark on a world that seemed to have forgotten me. Before hopping into the car to head down to ”La La Land”, my teacher, Mr. Walton, sat me down and gave me some sage advice (too bad it but took me another half a lifetime to realize just how wise it was). He said, “Brenda, anyone can create a spark or light fire to a house and get a lot of attention, but to create something meaningful, you need to cultivate something more like an eternal flame.”
There was a time in my life when I equated “passion” with that burning blaze he spoke about; exciting, intensely hot and always destructive. If a boyfriend and I had a fight that ended in tears and exhaustion, it just meant that we were “passionate” and not unhealthy. If I worked myself to the bone in a frenzy of ambition and anxiety, it simply meant I was “passionate” about my career. If someone controlled the conversation, interrupted others, and behaved aggressively, they weren’t rude, they were just committed to their cause.
As time went on, the burns accumulated and the sweltering heat left me gasping for cool air until, one day, I realized that an ongoing soft and slow flame was going to carry me a lot further than being caught up in a blaze that threatened to destroy all of the things and people who meant so much to me–including myself– every other month. This realization changed everything; my boundaries, my desires, my relationships and the quality of my work.
We can call it whatever we want; passion, fervency,or zealousness, but we must remain aware of the reality that destructive behavior destroys and there’s no glamour or value in it, regardless of how we try to justify it.
