Hidden deep inside is there a seed of something? Subdued and quiet could there be more than the shell, the skin, the costume conceals?
As I wander through the streets, between the walls, and across the lawns my humor is noticed to be low. My interest seems limited and I seem lost to purpose. This is a surface shell and the interior is where the furnace burns.
As I lie in bed awaiting the coming of dark caress that will usher my journey towards the next day I am instead greeted by a flash. Something happened. Something grows.
Darkness flees before the brightening expanse. A new vista blooms and lengthy branches of wonder extend and continue to grasp towards the corners of my mind.
Sleep is needed, yet no sleep can I find. A new living thing has been born. It grows at a rapid pace and it bounces off the walls of my mind. As I close my eyes and breathe deep that fails too as the new thing batters and pounds upon the walls. This is a known thing. It has happened many a time. Such living entities of thought will not surrender.
I climb from my bed and move towards paper and pen, or a guitar, or a computer keyboard and mouse. This is like the adventurer walking towards the ship at dock just before the journey begins.
Whatever tool can express this idea, that is where I go. I type, I perform, I write, I code, and I breathe this being from out of my mind and give it another home. Only when it has been freed from my mind will it give me peace. Only then could I find peace and sleep.
This passion lives in my mind. It has deep wells and it is from this that my passion flows. I may be subdued outwardly to the world, yet that which springs from my mind demands to be heard and demands to shout for all to see "I am alive!"
My passion differs and it grows. If I expressed my passion outwardly with the fervor that I apply to my creations such passion would be momentary and lost except in scant photos, videos, or recordings that happened to capture those moments. They would be as incendiary explosions that only a limited few witnesses held any remaining memories of the event. Powerful and ephemeral, the explosive dying sparks.
That is the passion that the normal people view as passion. The passion that is worn on the shirt sleeves, and is outwardly obvious during moments in time.
My passion is that of creation. You may not outwardly see it in me, but if you follow my path of creation you will see it in my actions, works, and imaginings that I've left behind. They remain for others to view long after I have moved on from them to other places.
So is passion simply momentary, or is it also evidenced in our creations. I hold more value in what I leave behind than I do the momentary ephemeral events that I may share with only a few. Those time constrained occurrences still have value to me and those present when they occurred, yet they have no life beyond those that were there.
Ideas live and evolve just as surely as biological organisms. Creations on paper, in sound, or on digital canvases still remain to influence others. The thoughts and emotions that these creations inspire are not something easily predictable to those who created them. They may do much for the creator, and nothing for others.
Other times they may be minor in significance as they escape from my mind, and yet someone else may be profoundly impacted by their encounter.
Passion takes many forms. Do not fail to imagine small, and allow that to grow to imagining big.
Steem On!
(All images made by me.)
