FlyOver Country

First, let's begin with a quick synopsis of her entry.

In her discussion of "passions" she provides an anecdote about a friend of hers: "[t]his friend, let's called [sic] him/her "Sam," for practical purposes, was passionate about...let's call it... "olives". [I work well with food analogies.]"  It would seem that Sam's passion of olives drove him to nurture his own olive grove, to strive for great olive-based innovations; his life was wrapped in, made from, and centered around olives.  He eventually follows his passions and takes a well-paying job at an olive farm, which he eventually comes to loathe, the stress ever-increasing, his ideas sitting idle, and his passions subsiding.  He leaves the olive farm and follows a wholly different path, becoming a "park ranger" (a job wholly unrelated to olives, it would seem) and thereby choosing what my friend labels the contented life rather than the passionate one.

"Sam; heard you looooveolives.  Here's some gloves and a basket. Get pickin'!"  (source)

So begins her introspection.  She wonders if following our passions to their fullest is wise, lest they fail; conversely, should we choose a more contented life without burning through our passion. She posits: "Is it worth it to pursue one's passion to an extreme as Sam did, risking every ounce of enthusiasm he had for olive-tending, and losing it all? Or should one find a job from an interest that is not fueled by the fire of passion, but could lead to a content life in the long-run?"  She continues on, discussing her own passion for concert piano, recognizing the difficulty in turning that into a lucrative career and wondering if she ought to have pursued it, perhaps risking her fervor in the process.  She counters by wondering if, not having followed her passion to a musical conservatory, she has preserved her passion, holding it in reserve for more personal reasons, instead to follow a likely less passionate, but more stable career path.

Returning to our own conversation Rockers, I think this is something we've all wondered.  Do we have a passion we can translate to our productive lives, thereby risking our very interest in it should we fail or become burnt out, or should we reserve this passion for hobby, seeking instead to apply our talents in another field?

I'll relate my own brief anecdote on this choice.  My brother-in-law, the story goes, was an incredibly talent rifleman at a fairly young and tender age.  He had spent time at camps for training purposes, had competed in tournaments and showcases, and ultimately had the opportunity to pursue a "career" (I use this term loosely, as I'm not sure this fits with our common notion of what a career is) in riflery, competing for national teams and in international competitions.  He too faced the dilemma of whether to pursue something he clearly had a talent for and passion in, or to retain it as a hobby to continue enjoying it rather than making it a job, and to pursue some other course of productive employment.  He chose the latter, as did my friend, and seems the happier for it.

My friend likewise chose the later, and while many of us lament her not having continued playing as much as she could have, it seemed to have been the right choice.  Her talent was reserved for her personal enjoyment, and her passion for it was not lost.

Okay.  So we've got the background information set in.  I've considered the answer - assuming there actually is one - at great length.

If I have a great passion for something, I seek to maximize my enjoyment in that thing.  (Example: I greatly enjoy hamburgers, pasta, and cake, and have dipped my toes in that well plenty often enough; it's why I now am looking into gym memberships.)  But whether and how I should follow this passion is a question that only raises more questions.

(source)

Firstly, for me, it's important to know my talent level in that particular passion.  Personally, I have a great passion for baseball, hockey, and golf.  To my great dismay, my talent level does not match my passion for these things, and I know that I will never be quite good enough to turn this into my livelihood.  On the other hand, consider virtually any famous athlete; not only did they have a passion for the sport that is now their profession, but they had the talent to make it happen.

Secondly, if I have the necessary talent and the passion, is doubling down on those going to cause me to begin not enjoying it?  That is, will engaging in my passion as a job reduce the enjoyment I get out of doing it in the first place?   Why did I begin engaging in this passion to begin with, and why do I enjoy it?

Perhaps the example with which I'm most familiar is that of a professional athlete, the passion for the sport and their employment in it as a profession, best exemplified I think by the somewhat cautionary tale of Anthony Kim, PGA golfer (a more complete retelling of this story can be found here, which includes the many complexities involved).  The short version is that Kim had achieved three PGA tour victories before turning 25, had competed very successfully in helping to win the 2008 Ryder Cup and 2009 Presidents Cup, and had a career that was looking up when he suffered a significant injury.  He has not played on Tour since 2012.  There is apparently a disability insurance payout well north of $10 million if he is unable to continue playing competitively.

So it begs the question - as asked in the above-linked article - "Does AK want to play anymore?"

It is clear he had the talent and could be successful at it, and at some point he had the passion.  That the passion might have been in large part to his father's dominant will may have led to the collapse, if indeed AK no longer has the passion for golf he so very clearly once did.  But as we cannot ask him, we cannot be sure whether it is (a) the worry that he will not return to the Tour and earn enough to compensate for the loss of the insurance payout, or (b) that he simply does not enjoy it as a profession any longer.

For me, these are the predominant questions as it regards what to do with my passion: (a) do I have the requisite talent to carry my passion to fruition?, and (b) in doing so, am I in danger of losing sight of why I enjoyed my passion in the first place?

I think that if (a) can be answered in the affirmative, and (b) in the negative, then you should pursue your passion, but both must be answered in that way.

In my own life, while I could answer (b) in the negative (the opportunity to work at hockey, to participate and struggle as a member of a team, in pursuit of the ultimate goal of winning the Stanley Cup, is definitely something that could drive me without causing me to lose sight of why I enjoy it - because competition and teamwork and success are important to me), I cannot answer (a) in the affirmative.  I simply am not blessed with enough talent to compete at that level.

Alternately, if I could indeed answer (a) in the affirmative (take the example of "Sam" or my brother-in-law), I would still need to be able to answer (b) in the negative or risk turning my passion into just another job out of which the enjoyment has leaked, relegating my passion into so many sad, deflated balloons.

Cue sad trombone noise.  (source)

But in its essence, and something I think my friend picked up on, is that it's a question of risk.  Am I willing to risk losing my passion in the pursuit of what I think will be its ultimate fulfillment? If things don't work out, will I be able to replace my passion with another, or will its loss have a long-term negative impact?

Essentially, as pointed out far, far, far above (apologies, Friends; this post took on a life of its own), the ultimate question seems to be whether we should take the "safer" road, keep our passion intact, and aim for a contended, balanced life, or dare greatly with the result of either succeeding greatly or failing greatly, but perhaps leading a life of imbalance?

(Note: As you will eventually come to know, I have an admiration of Pres. Theodore Roosevelt the man, though not necessarily the politician.  He had a particularly inspirational speech about daring greatly and risking greatly, so as to avoid residing "with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat", but I believe that to be a quote more about commitment to a choice, rather than selection of the choice; or at least not about so fundamental a choice as one about our very livelihoods. Once we have selected our paths, I think we should be bold in committing to them wholeheartedly.  That said, I do recognize it's possible application in this discussion about passion as well.)

These are things we can never answer with any real surety.  There are so many factors that play in that it's at best unwise to forge ahead without considering them.  But similarly, it would be unwise to let them bog us down for too long, paralyzing us.

Maybe we should not play so cautiously. Perhaps we ought to dare more greatly and follow our passions.  But I personally will always suggest that a little caution is pragmatic.

I have no idea who Marcus Buckingham is (The Google tells me he is a British author and motivational speaker), but he has this to say:

Passion isn't something that lives way up in the sky, in abstract dreams and hopes. It lives at ground level, in the specific details of what you're actually doing every day.

I think for that reason, because our passions - because know that they run a spectrum and may come in a variety of colors, flavors, etc., and are not either entirely yes or no, black or white - are part of our daily lives and form who we are, what we do, and how we view the world, we should strive to deploy them with a bit more of a well-reasoned philosophy than with the sort of reckless abandon that produces stupid things like "#YOLO".  In fact, because we -OLO, we should take a little more care with the fundamental choices.

On the other hand, if we're talking about cake, well then that's different.  We only get so many chances to eat cake.

And we can always sign up for gym memberships.