Airplane Thoughts

I struggle with “finding my passion”, I think that’s kinda a theme in our society. We’re constantly bombarded with article on how to uncover your true purpose and motivational quotes telling you to “follow your passion”. I think this search we’re on as a society is well meaning – who doesn’t want to love their job so much they don’t feel like they’re working? I’m writing this on the plane because I started thinking about how much I love traveling. I have a weird emotional reaction to airports. Ever since I stopped trying to be a robot without feelings, I can’t get on a plane without crying a little bit. I L O V E airports. In my opinion, they are one of the few places in this world where there are people feeling every emotion on the spectrum. It’s the romantic in me talking, but I think that is beautiful, even the negative ones. 
Anyway… thinking about that got me thinking about what it would be like to be a flight attendant or to have a job with a lot of travel. It seemed like a good fit until I realized that it would take everything I loved out traveling. If airports were my everyday, the excitement would wear off and I would only see the annoyances of travel. It’s not that I would focus on the negative, it’s that the little joys that come from traveling for pleasure would go away. 

I’ve been thinking the same way about my love for cooking. When I tell people I’m a cook, they ask if I want to go to culinary school. I often play with the idea, but always come to the conclusion that it’s not something I would want. First of all, I’m a sensitive person so I would be in tears everyday from the frustration of working in a kitchen under a chef. Second, while I do love the process of cooking and just food in general, what I really love about it is making someone happy with my food (a lot of times that’s me). If I was doing it professionally, it wouldn’t bring me joy in that way. 

I think what I’m getting to here is that being content is a good thing. Being fulfilled with your day-to-day is happiness.

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