Passion is a funny thing.
People tell you to be passionate. Society encourages you to be passionate. Relationships are said to be built on passion.
You’re supposed to follow it, dive into it, live it.
And sometimes that can seem daunting. What’s my passion? Am I any good at it? What does it say about me? Am I a failure if it’s not in line with my livelihood? If I am 36 and haven’t found it?
Lately I have been exploring my emotions and my passions with a full heart and a sheltered mind. I want to explore and indulge and play and create…and I refuse to let my worries or insecurities come along for the ride.
I wanted to play around with floral design. I know where it comes from: my mother. She has always been passionate about flowers. They didn’t have to be fancy or expensive, but we always had fresh flowers in the house, always stopped to smell the roses, always appreciated the beauty and simplicity of a garden as we walked by. So I took a floral design class and while it didn’t really teach me all that much, it let me explore a new avenue of creativity without fear or inhibition.
And it ignited a little spark within me. A passion.
I have started to buy loose flowers and play around with them. I cut some too short and I second-guess myself an awful lot and the other day (I kid you not), I bought a bunch that were basically already dead by mistake (Little D helped pick them out)…but the process and the ritual and the ease of it…it just feels right. Some of them turn out nicely. Some of them don’t. I have no idea how to make a livelihood from it or if I am any good at all. But yet, it keeps drawing me back.
With a full heart and a sheltered mind.
My Sunday Stems, as I call them.
My newest passion.
I am 36 and I have just found it.
So for now, I am following it, diving in and living it.
It’s a funny thing.
*photo via my Instagram – you can follow my floral design work at @sundaystems if you are interested*