I have been holding this facet of Wild Faith close to my heart for months. How can one write of something so personal and so intimate? How can one convey passion when the definitions and interpretations are so varied and so warped?
I talked to a friend about this post and told her I was struggling to express and discuss my thoughts concerning this part of Wild Faith. She said, “You must write with bare honesty.”
This proves to be difficult. In order to discuss passion I must battle self-censorship.
For many passion is a taboo concept attached to the sexual realm. Passion is associated with the prolific romance novels—with seductive covers and questionable content. Fantasy.
Or it is used flippantly in regards to enjoyments and interests. The concept has been prostituted much as our word love has. Over-used and diluted.
These associations have made it so common and banal, thus allowing it to maintain only a one-dimensional definition. How horrible to cheapen something so extraordinary.
Frequently passion is misidentified. It is not just excitement or enthusiasm or exuberance. (Although these are often present) These wane because they are rooted in circumstance. We mistake fluctuating zealous emotions for the attitude and posture of passion. We suppress passion's manifestation because the intensity frightens us; we fear being labeled a fanatic. Often we do not recognize its essence.
Passion is an intensely intimate connection which profoundly pervades and changes the inner landscape of who we are, therefore affecting what we do.
Passion is kairos, not chronos.
Passion is boundless, not limited.
Passion is animated, not theatrical.
Passion is useful, not utilitarian.
Passion is proficient, not sensible.
Passion cannot be summoned, it must be beckoned.
Passion cannot be explained, it must be experienced.
Passion cannot be contained, it must be released.
Passion cannot be defined, it must be lived.