"What if you were okay without a passion," Basha said patiently. These words coming out of the most passionate person I know. Basha
lives to paint. Her passion keeps her painting outside everyday
throughout the winter, no matter the bitter temperatures. She paints
like it's an ultra sport. But being okay without a passion, it had never occurred to me. How absurd? Yet this news felt oddly comforting.
"It's a very American thing --to have a passion," she continued. Ugh, the curse of being American. And yes likely true or else there wouldn't be books out there like Finding your Element. I spent last year working with a coach using that same book as a guide to unearth "my
element" reveal my hidden passions to discover this?!? Honestly we did arrive at this together, my coach and I, but without giving it this label. I am without a
passion. "You know, not very many people have one" Basha added. A glimmer of hope filled my chest as I imagined a possible posse of passionless cohorts gathering together for comfort and support. I've been quietly and not so quietly beating myself up over my passion deficit forever. So, here it is out there and out loud, a notion to be okay without one. Yet it breaks my heart and so I write, sob and then feel better.
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