Passion

I just got off the phone with the man who was my first love. We dated for about two years (off and on) in college. At the time I was sure we would be together forever. But, as most of these stories go, we went our separate ways, moved to separate parts of the country, married, had children, worked, struggled, celebrated, lived life.

Through a bizarre set of circumstances, we reconnected, chatted briefly a couple of days ago and then today for nearly an hour. We haven’t talked for 27 years but in many ways, it felt like yesterday.

Much I’ve learned about myself, about men, about relationships since those days. The same is true for him. I spoke of his integrity – obvious even in his early 20′s. And he spoke of my passion – obvious (said he) even in my early 20′s. That struck me, gave me pause, offered me hope.

“Ronna, you were always passionate about so many thing, but especially about who you wanted to be as a woman. I’ve thought of that many times over the years and realized that, in large part, it shaped what I knew, understood, and hoped for in a woman, a wife.”

You could not have paid me money to acknowledge or even comprehend that I was passionate about what it meant to be a woman when I was 20 or 21. My self-perspective on those years is that I was confused, messed-up, making less than stellar choices…living my 20s…hardly passionate.

So…today, to hear someone from that far back in my past “name” me is total gift, full and glorious affirmation from the Divine, from God, from the universe that I am and always have been a woman who is deeply committed to things that matter, who fights on her own behalf and that of others, who is, indeed passionate.

Passion, it lies in all of us sleeping…waiting…and though unwanted…unbidden…it will stir…open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us…guides us…passion rules us all, and we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love…the clarity of hatred…and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion maybe we’d know some kind of peace…but we would be hollow…Empty rooms shuttered and dark. Without passion we’d be truly dead.”

(Joss Whedon)

I am not dead. Hardly. I am fully alive – more than ever before.

Thanks, John.

Tagged as: love, passion, past