When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.
I’m getting an advanced course in following my passion these days from my latest (and greatest) teacher. In this lifetime, he’s not yet four years old, though I suspect he’s been around before.
My grandson has a burning passion for riding his bike. I mean a true passion. The kind where he wakes up each morning and plans when he’s going to ride. Sometimes he wears his helmet around the house, just because he likes it. And I think it keeps him in the mood; keeps him connected to what he loves.
As I’ve been privileged to spend time with him, I’ve remembered a little of what that passion feels like.
It makes me wonder where it went in me.
Sure, there are things I love, and perhaps I make time for them more than others might. But that raw and honest, oh- my-god-I-can’t-wait-to-do-this engagement in my life has waned.
And I’m here to tell you, I want it back.
As we age, we are in danger of growing cynical. Or self conscious. Or what we think is more realistic. And we allow our passion to become dusty, to lie dormant, to go unexpressed.
And we’re here such a short time.
Such a very short time to experience the passion of doing what we love.
Think about it.
Aren’t we likely to put a chore like washing the windows or cleaning the garage or doing the dishes ahead of something that fills us with joy and excitement? Something that makes our heart sing; our spirits soar.
“I’ll do it when I have time, after I’ve finished my work,” we tell ourselves.
But here’s what I’ve learned: There’s always work to be done.
If you don’t schedule time for the things that light you up, you’ll never get to them.
When dying people talk about their regrets, not a one of them says, “I wish I’d spent more time washing my windows!”
Whaddya say? Let’s all do more of what we love. Think how good it will feel.