The Place of Passion
How might the book actually happen?
I want to explore an edge in my creative process: passion. What is it? Where does it come from? How necessary is it? What do I do if I don’t feel it? What do I do if I do feel it?
I suspect that people making my casual acquaintance would be likely to describe me as a passionate person. I get excited about stuff. I have a lot of energy. I have, like, red hair (it’s a thing…) However, I realised this week that there’s a whole realm of passion I’ve been scared to explore.
Especially in professional matters, passion has never been a reliable fuel for me. When I was a lawyer, I was motivated by intellectual curiosity and the buzz of achievement and validation. I was super steady and never missed deadlines. I was good at it because I cared about being right.
That stopped being enough because I got hooked by the possibility of doing something that really matters to me. Since 2020, I’ve had the privilege of being able to explore, full time, what those things might be. As the calling has clarified, the challenge has become how to connect my care to my actions.
My passion is quick to arise. As those close to me know well, I’m often bubbling over with words about a framework I’ve learned or idea I’ve had. If you see me a month later, though, you can bet that I’ll have moved onto the next thing. The initial flame has died. Continuing on the same path has the feeling-tone of a starved, mistreated ox, pulling a leaden plough through a field of dense clay. I’m a teenager stomping her feet. I can’t do it. I won’t do it.
As a result, I have learned to take on, or create, only short term projects, preferably with in-built opportunities to pivot. Once again, though, this stopped being enough. I got hungry for a more substantial meal. I wanted to make myself available to do something that might create more, desperately-needed, change in the world. I asked and I prayed. I meditated and I waited, and the book arrived to be written.
Womanhood has me now, not the other way around. As such, I have to make myself capable of doing Her (the book? The Goddess?) justice.
It is obvious to me that I need to break my usual pattern of boom and bust, burning bright and then fizzling out. If you were a Meaningful Mondays reader, you’ll know that I’ve already been around this cycle once with the book. I left Her behind in a flurry of self-doubt. Luckily, She was still there, patiently waiting, when I dared to look back.
I have to harness myself to what really matters, and let it take me where it needs to go.
What is passion?
I believe that passion is the stuff that life is made of. While we are alive, passion flows to us. ‘Passion’ is a particular way of thinking about lifeforce. It is another word for eros or desire. I’ve written about those other things before, but right now, passion is fascinating me in a new way.
Passion is red like blood and flesh; for their passion, a person will fight to the death. Passion has us, not the other way around. It isn’t safe. It is unpredictable and demanding. To be in the throes of passion is to be irrational and illogical, to forget about others’ expectations or our own best-laid plans.
No wonder I’m afraid of it.
I don’t think I’m unusual in being afraid of passion. I think it is endemic in White Western culture. We are grey woollen trousers where other cultures are bright paints and feathers. We are hushed hospital corridors while others sing and dance to expell demons. We’ve forgotten how to hold space for our children to love and rage into their full selves, nor do we show them our own magnificence.
What happens to my passion?
As it has become important to me to use it well, I have begun to notice patterns in where my passion leaks away. I shared a couple of weeks ago that one drain has been compulsively offering to do tedious tasks for men. Here are two more big ones.
Passion is tamed by being expressed within a container. Dancing is such a space for me. At the kinds of dances I attend, it is genuinely ok to express myself exactly as I please. I can fling my arms and head around, roll wildly on the floor, roar with laughter or fury, and no one will think less of me. This is doing it right; socially acceptable passion.
More shockingly and subversively, I’ve noticed that my passion is wasted in creating drama in relationships. I have experienced incredibly strong pulls towards grandiose expressions of love when I felt good, and self-righteous anger and desolate sadness when I felt bad. The whirlwind of emotions is exhausting, leaving nothing left to fuel creativity.
Until very recently, I believed my big feelings were justified by the situation or, at least, unavoidable because of my trauma. Lately, though, I have been wonderfully blessed by people who don’t get pulled into my drama but instead hold a mirror up for me. Those people include friends, housemates, my soulmate, my therapist, and wise teachers. I have listened to what they’ve had to say, and I have had to admit that I’m doing this to myself.
Why was I doing this? Those outlets for my passionate energy - romantic gestures, anger and sadness - felt familiar and acceptable. I felt in control of the story I was in, even though my behaviour produced situations that sucked for all involved!
What am I doing about it?
Giving myself to passion is my priority because I don’t believe I’ll be able to write the book without it. Progress is slow as I experiment. I am gaining ground through ruthless honesty with myself and boundaries to stop the waste of energy.
Underneath my conditioning, I sense the presence of a mysterious and powerful force. As I relentlessly face and break old patterns, there is less and less in the way of this force coming through. When my egoic self realised this a few nights ago, I became destraught. I felt the loss of control and I was terrified of what I might become. I felt my wildness and I feared I was a monster. What dreadful things might I do, if I was unleashed?
I unpacked this, with the support of my soulmate, until I grasped that I was actually opening to myself in a totally new way. I felt the possibility of trusting whatever is ‘down there’.
This work is absolutely intrinsic to the whole Womanhood project, of course. Passion is the realm of the deep feminine. She is the ruler of the churning, chaotic energy that fuels all life. Her suppression is part and parcel of the unhealthy masculine ruling our dying era. In liberating myself from internalised misogyny, I gain wisdom to share with others.
It occurs to me that Donald Trump is the archetype of shadow passion. He’s doing what I have done, creating unnecessary drama, but on a global stage. We’re not so different after all.
If you’re a woman or femme person who would like to explore a facet of this topic, I’m holding another Journey into the Heart of Anger, in Bristol on 8th December: see below for more details and a ticket link. My co-facilitators inspire me with their passionate vitality and I can’t wait for some of you to meet them.
With much love and gratitude,
Rebecca
Access your healthy passion by exploring your relationship with anger. Come move and share together, with other women and folk identifying with the feminine.