I wrote this post nearly three months ago and wasn’t able to post it before I was evacuated. There are 30 others like it. This post seems appropriate because I am currently struggling with what type of life I want, so I decide to publish it.
December 14, 2010
Every day, an omen or small symbol from the universe nods to me, reminds me this is the place I’m meant to be.
But I still often felt something was missing — passion.
When I began my online magazine, passion emitted from my fingertips and the pitch in my voice changed when people asked me about it. It was my food, my energy and my hope when I was running on empty. It’s probably the most passion I’ve had for one thing.
In Niger, I am leaps and bounds happier and I wouldn’t trade this life for that one, but living on passion is different than living.
Sure, I am happy to be here, I want to be here and I like what I am doing as a volunteer, but my feelings about my work are different from the work of the magazine. They are not dreadful, actually they are happy, just not passion-induced.
I’ve wanted that passion to be here because I thought that it had to do something with satisfaction. Maybe it does, but I am happy so isn’t that enough? Or maybe happiness with passion, which I didn’t have a year ago, is the true euphoric life state.
Today, I was interviewing the Chef de Canton, the man in charge of handling troubles amongst villagers, and my mind began to spin with project ideas. That impossible project could happen. Or that one. My heart beat faster and I got a bit flushed al all the work I needed, or get to do.
There it was, I realized during the moment — a flint of passion for being my villager’s volunteer.
I got this sense of I can change the world, the way I did when a good story came was published on the site or someone new wanted to be a part of it. Now, I feel like I change the world again, this time from a small village in West Africa. It may not be realistic passion but it’s enough to inspire you to try.
The same passionate feeling came back when nearly 100 students showed up for my irst English club meeting.
I walked home tonight with a heart full of passion and commitment. This is my calling, at least for now, like my magazine was at that time in my life.
Later in the evening, I ended up breaking down and crying for the first time in village. I was listening to Christmas music and the realization that I won’t be home for the holiday hit me in a real, hard way.
It didn’t make sense to end the day crying after such passion and excitement. Then I remembered that I’ve cried less in my five months in Niger than I did in any give week when living off complete passion.
The passion is there but this time in a healthier form. More importantly, I am happier than ever.