The Pursuit of Passion

“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, ‘O me! O life!…of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless…of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?’ Answer. That you are here—that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play ‘goes on’ and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?”

—John Keating, Dead Poets Society

I can trace my love for books and stories directly back to my mother. As her firstborn she was adamant about reading to me each and every night before going to bed. Some of my favorite earlier books were Crab Apple and Hershel and the Hanukkah Goblins.

The first book taught me about people and their varying personalities. The titular Crab Apple, fallen from a nearby crab apple tree, is ornery, and early on chases off a bird and a worm. Soon he comes to regret his attitude toward said bird and worm as the duo come together to give good old Mr. Apple his comeuppance. The second book deals with Jewish folk hero Hershel of Ostropol and his schemes to rid a town plagued by goblins every year during Hanukkah. As an adult I find this funny. My family is not Jewish. We have never celebrated Hanukkah, and until a few years ago I did not know that Hershel was a prominent figure in Jewish culture. But none of that matters, not really, because the story is what holds true. A man decides to stand up to evil to help those that otherwise cannot help themselves. Most of Hershel’s tricks are funny, like trapping one goblin in a pickle jar until he essentially makes him cry “uncle” and vow to leave the town alone. Others carry a more serious tone, like when the hero squares off with the Goblin King himself on the final night.

After all these years, I can still picture young me wrapped up in my blanket as Mom read each book and gave each character his own voice. I can hear her say Crabbbbb Apple and see that red face sourpuss chasing off Mr. Worm. I can hear myself giggle as she whimpers as the gluttonous goblin, whose affinity for pickles I share, promises to no longer be a terror to the towns folk.

I don’t know if Mom knew what she was doing back then. I doubt she knew she was laying the groundwork for what would become my future as a writer. Maybe she was simply being a good mother and trying to help her son settle in for the night. But whatever her motivation was then, what she really taught me was the value of using one’s imagination.

I have moved on from books like Crab Apple and Hershel. By the time I was in fourth grade I was reading large chapter books, some with pages counts in the 300-400 range. I have since go on to even larger books like Stephen King’s The Stand and IT, which could prop a door open on their own. I have classics like Les Miserables and Gone With The Wind, and currently I am working through George R. R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire (Game of Thrones) series. For the last two weeks I have taken a break from writing. As I’ve mentioned in early posts I have a number of writing goals set up this year, including the writing of a nonfiction book. I have been using a number of tools to keep me on track of these endeavors. As a reforming procrastinator it is imperative that I have these safeguards in place. But after one week of dealing with a family emergency and another filled with normal life events, I realized I was missing a key element to my process.

I wasn’t reading enough.

I’ve started to fix that. Gabby and I celebrated our 14th wedding anniversary shopping at Barnes&Noble and eating sushi at one of our favorite Hibachi grills. There is nothing like a little “book therapy” to help stabilize the course of things.

Reading is one of my passions. Writing is its twin sister. Both of them make me feel more like a complete person.

I feel lucky that I am in a position to pursue my passions. I hope others can find what motivates them, what makes them feel life and gives them a sense of satisfaction. I tell my children that they need to follow what makes them happy, that I rather they make a living at something that brings them joy than spend the next 30 to 40 years in misery.

It’s not an easy thing to follow our passions. We often look at celebrities and shake our heads. They seem to have it all. Yet, we don’t see all the work they put in to get where they are. We didn’t see the actors spending their days waiting tables and their nights auditioning for a bit part in an off-off-off broadway play. We don’t see the singer rehearsing in her room at night as she stares at her dream board and plans her next course of action. We don’t see the novelist or screenwriter or future director reading and watching the greats that have come before him, hoping to absorb something, anything about the craft of storytelling.

Not all of us are going to hit the Big Time, and that’s OK. Success isn’t always measured by the number of followers one has, or the multi-book deal from a well established publisher. It can be about completing a goal of writing a short story and reading it in front of an audience. It could be practicing the violin for days and weeks and performing in the town play.

My dream has been to write and to have what I have written go in front of an audience. By that definition I am a success right now because you are reading these words. Thank you for being here. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to share my thoughts with you. You give me a chance to follow my passion, to add my own verse to this stitch work that is life.

May you be able to do the same in whatever moves you. Go on and find what it is that excites you and never let it go. Write your own verse, too.