πάθος

My memory fails me these days. Lack of training it, abuse of alcohol and drugs, getting older or just a bit of all. I find nonetheless that some things still stick with me- words.

That is words, to me, from people that I have crossed paths with throughout my life. People who have stigmatised our crossing with their words either because of my deep love for them or because they played an important role in my choice of next path to follow. I believe that everything happens for a reason and also that once you love someone, a part of you always does. I remember reading somewhere that love is like energy; it's never lost but it changes "state".

So, I was just thinking about the above quote, not sure why it came to mind, I think it was because I recently met a woman, a friend of my mother's, and the next time she saw my mother she commented upon our acquaintance by saying what a sweet "child" I was (as grown ups tend to compliment each others children I think) and my mother made a point that she went on to make the observation that, "She seems so calm".

Now, anyone who knows me for years should be perplexed by such an observation with regards to my person. My own mother passed this information on a little confused. I can understand and I can assure you that no one has ever said that about me before. However, today I smile because I know why. Mostly I smile because this is true.

My ex, said to me towards the end of our relationship that he feared me sometimes. More specifically he said, "Your passion...I love your passion but at the same time, it's what scares me the most". I remember feeling both offended but proud upon hearing those words, upon further thought I remained unsure as to whether this was good or if it was bad. You see, I used to think that my passion was what defined me. I believed that to be passionate was my heritage because I am Greek; that because I take after my mother and her strong temperament; because I considered myself fearless and honest and that I knew how to be faithful to my heart and my beliefs.

And when it came to love, oh my, I believed that my passion was a reflection of how deep and true I loved my man.

I remember the shock I felt when I first read the literal definition of the word passion in Greek - πάθος.

My brain short circuited. Pain? Suffering? How can something I consider a quality have such a negative connotation I wondered.

If I am honest, I have to admit that up until recently, I was severely spiritually unwell. I have come to realise that I had a permanent pair of beer goggles on not only for choosing my one night stands (the horror!) but mainly for observing life through; life, people, places and things. Their roles in my  story were always interpreted with a horrifying, paranoid, twist to the plot and let me tell you, it was never a happy ending.

However, today, I realised that this passion has died down. It's not gone, because I am still at the beginning of my journey and I have a long road ahead of me to true serenity and peace of mind but I can now see that passion is an extremity, I can recognise it and although I still like to do things passionately, (which nowadays I interpret as merely putting my heart into it) I have let go of my obsessive perfectionism and I find myself learning to love imperfection - more and more everyday. Every day I practice letting go and acceptance; it's work in progress and some days I am less successful but I have learned to accept that too. Today it has dawned on me that this new way of living has no room for passion; passion is suffering and yes, suffering is a part of our lives but I am done with this self-inflicted suffering. Today if I am given the choice, I choose less suffering, less passion and more peace.

"You are fire. There is an energy in you that draws people in. Fire can burn but it can also be good; fire can provide warmth and light. It's just about learning to keep it under control." Some more memorable words spoken to me by my therapist a few months ago. Never truer.

Once upon a time there was no lie in her fire but her fire was raging and burnt her to ashes.
From these she has risen, still mad and magic but her fire has been reduced to the flame of a candle, once in a while glaring up a little as if to remind her of her past πάθος.