P is for Passions: A Part of Me

  
    
        When I was little I was passionate about being an artist.  It is all I ever thought about.  I filled my spare time drawing, and when I could begin studying art in high school, I took as many art classes as I could.  I had this passionate need to create inside me that just begged to come out.  I was fascinated with the human form and based my advanced placement portfolio on that thesis. 

      For a while I lived, breathed, and created art daily.  In my early 20’s, I decided to pursue a degree in graphic design.  I worked 40 hours or more a week, and studied and perfected my art at night.  Art became my life.  There came a time after my mom got sick that the constant pressures of perfection worked me to frazzle.  Once she died the fire that burned so brightly for my art died with her.  Countless job interviews that led to rejections killed my passion for art.  I lost my drive and changed direction, feeling deep inside my work was not good enough and I could not face the day to day pressure to create something remarkable.

        When my mom died my passions shifted.  I had taught myself to read music and play the piano and at that point, it became my passion to perfect my music.  I would return home after work nightly to a silent lonely house.  My depression threatened to overtake me, and my loneliness at the time was stifling.  Again I withdrew within myself and focused my passion into creating music on the piano.  I would eat little, and then set at the piano for hours playing every piece of music in the house.  I challenged myself to play classical pieces to perfection. 

       After a while I decided to approach the organist at the church I was attending and ask her if she could help me perfect my skills.  At my first lesson I sat at the grand piano in the church and played Johann Sebastian Bach’s “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” with much feeling.  The piano teacher was astonished at the time, and thought it quite remarkable that I had never had a formal lesson in my life.  She taught me how to use all of my fingers when I played and incorporate the foot pedal.  My passion for the music didn’t need to be taught, I already had it.  I could feel it, and it flowed through my veins.  We worked through the classics with her assigning me a different piece each week.  I would rush home and play the piece over and over until I had it perfected.  Playing music fed my soul, much as my art once did.  Somewhere along the way I lost my passion for playing.  I still love music, but no longer play.  If I still had a piano, I might still, but I don’t so those melodious days are behind me.

        At this stage in my life, what am I passionate about now??  My daughter told me I was passionate about my writing.  After thinking about it, I think she may be right.  The creative juices that have run through my veins all my life have manifested here on my blog.  Instead of painting and music, I write and create. The creativity flows still keeping the passion in me alive until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.


What passion burns in you??