“Whatever you are, be a good one” -- Abraham Lincoln

Passion. Something that makes my heart bleed and my head spin. It carries away the strife and brings empowerment. The notion that one can overcome the unthinkable. It leads the heart to heal, and the mind to rest. One without the other is impossible. The work of a brilliant couple. The duet of a lifetime. They function in perfect rhythm to create beauty in the world: art, music, literature. An inspiration to all its admirers.

To be passionate is to leave everything you have on the table and walk away. A musician who not hears, but feels the music flowing through his veins until it reaches the heart and causes it to ache. The ability for a writer to leave their tears on the paper on which they write, exposed to the world’s eyes. The countless hours of training that brings an athlete to triumph. The ability to expose yourself to complete vulnerability is one of ultimate sacrifice.

To be passionate is to be able to relinquish yourself, to lose control. A moment of loss of control that results in a lifetime of beauty. I judge a true artist by their ability to simply let go. To be able to feel that sense of loss, and pain, and frustration, and joy. An outlet for the undisclosed. Secrets buried so deep their screams are unheard. They surface. Without notice, they appear and claim their dominance. They filter through the fingers and shake the pen, the brush, the bow. The ultimate struggle. The possibility to hold secrets from human flesh, yet be able to share them with a piece of paper, a canvas, an audience.

To be passionate is to have an out of body experience. For your fingers to no longer be your own, but separate entities that still manage to find guidance through the mind to be able to contribute to the work of the divine. To give yourself to your work, to society, to betterment, to the advancement of man. To share, to help, to bring these truths to those around you.

To be passionate is to find something you love and give it your all.