A Passionate Plea to the Night

**Sorry folks. If you were expecting some new travel musings, I have to disappoint you. Rather, I wanted to write a creative personal piece that encapsulates who I am.  Fear not, more travel posts are in the works as my blogging wheels are already turning. 

Passion is both the bane of my existence and my purpose in life.  To say that I am a passionate person would be the understatement of the year. For those around me they either appreciate it or wish to tame the wild beast. My father is one of those who appreciate it; he calls me his fiery daughter. While that can also be attributed to my crimson hair, it mostly applies to my temperament.  When I go home, most often he antagonizes me with ludicrous statements just to see if my fire has withered at all. Our quarrels, which reveal to actually be incited quibbles, allow him to encourage my fervor and attempt to direct it. He loves testing me, but then again tests have always been his preferred form of assessment during his tenure as an educator. While infuriating, I understand that my passion gives him hope and also reminds him of his less cynical youth.

My passion has also gotten me in trouble; many political and ethical debates among friends have ended badly although with a victory on my behalf because much to my consternation most people do not like to debate or argue and detest conflict. More importantly, my nature provides the biggest battle for me internally. While, I don’t fly off the handle anymore; I have perfected the art of controlling my emotions or at least masking them behind a thin veil of self-protection.

I feel things, incessantly, at the most inopportune times, when I’m awake and when I’m asleep. It is constant.  It is an eternal smoldering ember that cannot be extinguished. It is a ravaging hunger that can never be satiated.  It urges me to keep searching, to keep fighting and to never surrender or relent. But it also pulls me in every direction. Some mornings I wake up and know that I will be compelled to act. In which direction?  I am treading water, neither sinking nor swimming, neither moving forward nor backwards. I am imprisoned by own desire to do everything, all the time, and everywhere.  My desire to do everything prevents me from doing anything.

It is at night, when I lie awake because my mind is rapidly firing and try as I might I cannot make it cease. Then for a singular moment calmness washes over me because my passion appears directed. All the murky possibilities line up and point to one direction. I can let myself sleep and wake with the dawn.

The sun warms my face as it peeks through the curtains and I rise with purpose. I feel light, light enough to take flight.  I craft a weaving of plans in my mind for my future and how I can live with integrity and passion.  I eagerly greet the day with abundant energy. The day is a mixture of action, reflection, appreciation, and gratitude.

However, time is fleeting.  Night blankets the earth again. I’m still tethered to the ground and I feel heavy. I feel myself being sucked under again, back into the bewildering world of thoughts, hopes, misdirection, chaos, and confusion. I am back to the start, full of passion and yet no further in my quest.  I despise the night for it makes me doubt the day.

Despite this, I cannot wish night away for it allows me preparation for the day. The passionate confusion allows possibility and inspiration to emerge. The uncertainty of my direction allows an endless future where my passion can lead me. I can only hope to learn to cope with night.

This is the struggle of the passionate. It is my battle. It is my curse. It is my salvation.  It perpetuates a life that seeks the great and the impossible.  I am governed by the light and hopeful day and the dim and poignant night. I am governed by passion.