I am a passionate person. I am enthusiastic. It shows in the
tone of my voice, in my playful nature, in the way I communicate my ideas. My
very personal definition of passion is “to totally inhabit the present moment,
and seizing this moment with all six senses”. I like to say that nothing is a
passion to me (as I age I realize this is not all true), but that I do everything
passionately.

My passionate nature has not always been a blessing. Passion
scares people. It is not totally “civilized” to demonstrate a passionate nature.
People often believe you have a hidden agenda. Just the tone of my voice, the
inclination of the words when I speak…it sometimes scares the hell out of
certain individuals. Unfortunately, most of the time, I realized that’s what
happened only after the fact. Passion sometimes triggers the intolerant fiber
of the world.

Living with passion gives life color, taste, sound, texture
and feeling. Bland is not really part of my daily experience. Happiness
transforms to joy, and deception almost in despair. The variance of feelings is
huge, and it is often tiring to adjust to those emotion variations with dignity
and poise.

My passion ignites my creativity. My passion is my sidekick,
my signpost. It is part of my uniqueness in this world, and I would not
exchange it for any other personality trait in the world. My passion has crows
into love, and forces me to ground in reality, not in whimsical fantasy. It
gives me what it takes to believe in people, to want the best for them, to
carry them in my heart. With detachment. If you are passionate, never forget
the tool of detachment. It is essential to remain balanced and grow as a human
being.

My passion invited love in my life, helped me define for myself
the essentials of this life, and keeping alive joy, by demonstrating to me
there was nothing wrong with hugging myself with my own arms. Thank you
passionate nature.

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