I’ll be out with my camera beneath the searing heat, crawling around in the tall grass seeking some interesting insect or piece of nature, deep in concentration, and if I begin to ask why I like doing that, the critic in me, whom I have tamed over the years, quips at me something mean such as, “What are you doing? Normal people don’t do this!” My come back is to tell myself that this is my passion – it feeds me. But my critic wants to know why. Why is that my passion? As I think about the why, I start to feel a tiny bit of doubt. If I think too hard, it seems to take away from the magic. And there is magic in passion.
I know this critic well. Everyone has a critic perched on their shoulder. You might think the most successful artists, novelists, or song writers don’t have one shouting or whispering doubts and condemnation, but you’d be wrong. Anyone alive has a critic. How you deal with yours has a lot to do with how you live your life.
I realize that I don’t need to answer to my critic. I don’t need to answer the ‘why’ part of my passion. It’s enough that I simply have it. I don’t need to dissect it. I just need to nurture it, engage it and run with it. The why I have passion will remain a mystery and that’s perfectly fine with me.