Seasons of Passion

Today, I took my son (and husband and MIL and FIL) to see the Tallahassee Symphony Youth Orchestra. It was not hugely publicized, and the only reason I knew about it was because a friend and co-worker is in the orchestra and has been avidly following ZBoy's interest in the violin.

The performance began with the least experienced group - the one Z would be in after a year of Strings instruction, should he choose to pursue a spot in the orchestra. I cried. They weren't perfect, but you could hear the work that went into that performance. It was achingly beautiful.

As the concert continued, each group would play three or four selections before making way for the next group, getting more polished and professional with each level. Z sat between his father and his grandmother, alternately rapt and 10 year-old fidgety. He enjoys music, but he is a do-er. He can only sit and listen for so long before he wants to do it himself.

Me? I am fascinated with the mechanics of it all. How each part, each instrument works together to create a place for my mind to visit, how the violin parts make my soul soar as the cello and bass keep my feet on the ground. I have always loved orchestral music for that reason. I don't know pieces or composers, what they are called, who they are. But I know what I like.

I've been thinking ever since about Passion. Capital P Passion. Not love for your man or your family, or even your country, but the kind of passion that springs from within you and takes you out of yourself into something bigger.

My friend E is in the Youth Orchestra - even though she is somewhat less than my age. But in the world of music, she is a child, learning the violin with 6 and 7 year-olds from the ground up. Her children are, in fact, ahead of her in playing, prodigious in their talent - but it woke up something in her too, it seems. I am insanely jealous of this yearning to learn, then hone a skill or talent. I wish I felt this.

I have felt it in the past. There was a time when writing was all I could think of doing. I wanted to write the Great American Novel. I have participated in a yearly writing challenge called NaNoWriMo (National Novel-Writing Month) for the last three years. I have three novels in various stages of completion gathering dust somewhere in my house.

I'm not participating this year. Not only is November an insanely busy time of the year for me... but I also seem to have lost my spark. My mind is a blank. There are ideas, but no words follow them. This is known as Writer's Block. And I have it.

It's not the only block I have though. I've been working on getting healthy, wanting to have a fit body that will stick with me for another, oh, forty years or so. I accepted a challenge from a friend to run a marathon in May of 2011. I have about a year and a half to get ready for it.

Which brings me to this question: Can you choose your passion, or does it choose you? Like a tone-deaf singer, can I be passionate about something I'm not good at? That practice may or may not improve? I really WANT to run. I have felt the urge before. But when the moment comes to step out my door, I am so reluctant in body and soul. I am plagued with "what if I can't?" which then becomes I don't. Will I learn to love it if I just do it over and over again?

Perhaps there is a season for Passion. A time to write. A time to run. A time to be quiet. A time to think. Life is a cycle. With the passing of Halloween, the changing of the clock, the beginning of fall, the northern hemisphere begins its season of darkness. The days get shorter, the nights colder. For some, this is the time to begin hibernation. For me, it is the beginning of coming to life. Perhaps soon my season for my passions will come again.