Baby Driver: What's Your Passion?
I am an incredible parent. I know this because there are moments in my parenting life where I stop and think, “Man, these kids are darned lucky.”
One of these moments happened this week. During a meeting at my children’s school my son was reminded of the school’s philosophy regarding course selection, which is:
Try something new
Try something that challenges you
Take something that fuels your driver
There is not one iota of doubt that I’d be a lot better, happier and more interesting person if I did something new, something challenging and something I was passionate about every day. That my kids are being encourage this direction at such an early age is one of those things that makes me say, “Man, these kids are lucky.” It’s the kind of thing that motivates me to squeeze blood from a turnip to write the tuition check every month.
But beyond the overall brilliance of the philosophy, what really grabbed me is this driver business. A “driver” is the thing that lights you up. It’s your passion. And this is where my ears perked up because passion — searching for, discovering, and living it — is BIG for me.
I’m a late comer to the passion party. I hadn’t been alive long enough to connect to my passion when my father’s sudden death when I was eight completely shut down any playful passions before they had a chance to emerge. My driver became not a glorious passion, but the desperate need to find security.
There’s no doubt that the exigencies of life can throw a wet blanket over passion, causing it to smolder and turn life a dull gray; but I like to believe that it’s never too late to find the spark. And passion is nothing if not the spark in your soul. It is energy. Fire. It’s what brings you alive.
Of course, fire can take many forms. Fires can consume, or they can warm. They can burn hot and bright or glow softly. They can be big or small. I used to think my passion would show up in a blaze of glory, but I’ve learned that finding your passion is often a subtle process. It’s about following the heat. When I stopped waiting for the burning bush to appear, I realized that I’m passionate about parenting. I’m passionate about words. I’m passionate about and truth and beauty and Spirit.
The nature of your passion — whether it’s grand or quiet— doesn’t really matter. What matters is that you know what you are passionate about and that you tend that fire, because the world needs people who are really alive. It needs the spark you bring. It needs your joy and your light.
As the passionate writer Jack London put it:
“I would rather be ashes than dust!
I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot.
I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.
The function of man is to live, not to exist.I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them.
I shall use my time.”
