Surfing, somewhere on the interweb, I came across this compelling little exercise. Its not celebrity gossip - it may contain no update in the Justin Bieber haircut chronicles. It might not announce unrelenting fear, misfortune, or the identity of the latest big lottery winners or even herald the sale which absolutely undermines the one in which you thought you made out like a bandit a few days prior. It is actually an image, like a completed crossword puzzle, headlined by a simple instruction - "Reblog with the first word you see". The first word I saw in the matrix is P-A-S-S-I-O-N - fourth row from the bottom, eight letters in, reading left to right.

Passion is a spark. A point of light in the dark wanting to erupt into a sea of stars. Passion is the beginning that has no end and can never be tamed. Though impartial, it seems to choose us. Maybe we can choose to move on in time, even if it breaks our spirit, but with the beginning of passion comes the end of choice. It is the feeling I get when I sing my favorite words and they break my heart or make me smile. When we go impulsive and burn like fire, hotter and hungrier every exponential moment, we are passionate. When we devote every action in some way toward a common goal we call it our passion. When we sacrifice all of our time to becoming who or what we dream of being passion is the clock. Passion is reliable and wants to possess us, to the point of no return and barely any control. If we make love, we can hope to lose ourselves in all consuming passion. When we lose ourselves fighting and suffering for what we believe then we call that a passion too. Passion just might separate a nightmare from a dream come true. 

Some people go their whole lives reducing the world to dollar signs and chemicals, and some even make sense of it. Maybe the remainder of that incredibly long division, the part which cannot be counted, is passion. In my estimation only passion could justify a foray into so much boredom. Why else should anything happen, really? 

I think we need a fiery zest for life as much as we need air to breathe or water to keep our bodies conductive and whole. When I feel lost for a place to belong, like the owner of a wealth of worthless effort, it helps to think of the feelings and work I know I simply cannot live without.

Is it any harm to think of passion as the perfect alibi? Is it any wonder that society sees it that way?  All I know is that passion is addictive, maybe even more habit-forming than any drug, harmful or healing. Words are mere words, but a fervent speech or song gets wings and a revolution when crowds witness the passion of a voice. The message resounds the world round. Crimes of passion happen and people do the unthinkable. People also turn their lives around and people make dreams come true. On the bright side of this addiction is the fact that there is no shortage of passion. We never lose it, but some put it down, the victims of our very short little spans of attention. As gravity draws countless snowflakes down into my backyard it makes me realize that blazing love is as much a natural law as anything. Passion is impartial. It is for all people, everywhere. There will always be another heart about to catch fire in its presence and carry it, spreading it like a force of nature.

Just so you know, the second word I see here is C-H-A-T, which is something I hope we can do in the near future, and which in France and some other lovely places means cat, which is what kind of person I happen to be. Puppies are cool too.

Don't think too much. Stop. Check your pulse. Do what you do. Live passionately from the first time you feel it.
- Peter Munters @prunnerrunner