This I believe…
Passion is a necessity. Life becomes a droning void without the sweet smell of passion, like a ripe mango. I feel passion. My heels tame the earth with the beat of Indian classical dance and it surges inside of me. I “hi-ya” to the rhythm of my Master’s voice and it burns as it flows through my veins to the tips of my fingers onto the punching bag. Passion is reason free. It knows no limitations to the vitality of life. It must be liberated.
When I told my brother about my passion for kickboxing, he shrugged. I then spoke of the time I fell off the beam during gymnastics practice and hesitated not to show him my battle scar. No answer. He will not reveal his passion.
We are stepping into dangerous territory.
It is the worst sound I will ever hear.
A moaning; the sick cry of dogs
Or the disturbed.
Panting from screaming beneath pillows
And below breaths.
Nails scraping scratching stopping.
Then, another hole in another part of my
Soul and my home.
Don’t scream at me, I said. Don’t scream at me, I said.
I said, Don’t you scream at me.
Then, my heart poundpoundpounding out of my
Chest and onto the floor. I want to
Step on it and stomp until it won’t beat
For him anymore.
I hear the sound of his heart now.
The menace that causes all the noise in all the world.
And I wonder, does he not feel alive?
Will he ever truly feel the passion of doing something he loves?
Why will he only acknowledge his feelings for anger?
It is now that I have a revelation. I realize that I have yet another belief. Acceptance. I believe that people may be different and that not all people drape their emotions so flashily around themselves. His passions will develop and grow and only when he’s ready will they be released. This will take time, I believe.
If you enjoyed this essay, please consider making a tax-deductible contribution to This I Believe, Inc.