The Price of Passion
Obedience. Fire will not be tamed...
... she needs to move, she needs to inhale, she needs to be expressed, she needs to be fed. Or she will die of starvation.
Yesterday was the yearly culture festival in my town. And this year, was different, although, the same as always, from one creative endeavor to another. Apparently, I wasn’t aiming for beautiful or eloquent this year. What emerged was involuntarily rough, untamed and raw. It was interesting and exhausting. A culmination, maybe, of this roller coaster i’ve been on.
This concludes #Vasteraskulturnatt 2018. Crazy, unrehearsed, curious and over.
I’ve been engaged in this festival for the past six years. I do it for the love of it, for the love of creating, for discipline. Because i need to. Art disciplines me, all my creations do. They come alive as i work on them, they tell me what to do, how to do it. And there’s no mercy, if, when, i insist on otherwise. I will be brought to my knees. It’s a force of nature. I seem to invite it freely, or actually, i seek it. The only freedom is in the obedience. Obey, and you shall be free. It’s like finally giving in to a Lover. There is a fusion, a melting. And in that fusion, that’s where it is, Freedom. No mind, no definitions, just movement, just that which Is.
Last night, i was taken by the obviousness of my search. Some people are called passionate. I am one of those on fire, it seems. Pain is a constant reminder. No Lover, more pain.
I can’t help it. I go all in, or not at all. It’s the one thing i’ve been asked to tame. We all have our addictions. Mine is passion. And the price? Suffering. Suffering at the hands of it as well as in it's absence. There's a difference though. One moves you, disciplines you, the other is thirsting and stagnant.
Would i have it any other way? I don’t know. What is, is. And i shall obey.