The Creative Heart

For those of you who are creative, I think you'll understand me when I say that it is almost impossible not to follow your heart's desire. The passion that flows through your veins while chasing the object of your affection, whether it is a certain ingredient for a dinner -- or a certain person, invariably, becomes your raison d'etre.

To be passionate is both a blessing -- and a curse.

I've been passionate my whole life. Everytime my heart was broken, half my soul would bleed out of me. I would always tell myself in a smug fashion 'well, at least you're really living'. Over the years I've realized that short term instant gratifications can have long term devastations.

Take downhill skiing, for example. There are many ways to go down the hill. You can cut across horizontally, keeping one ski locked in a 45 degree angle uphill in order to ensure that you don't pick up any speed. This way is safest. It's also the least fun.

Or you can aim your skiis straight down and hope for the best (ie. no broken neck or sudden collision). There is no control -- and this way is definitely (for the thrill seekers) the most fun.

But there is another way. A way that averts from both techniques and gives the skiier the most satisfaction with tempered excitement and complete control; the right way. The way that uses your hamstrings to their full capacity to guide the skiis so you glide smoothly down the mountain in a controlled and (after many runs) effortless fashion.

This way is hard at first. You have to practise. It's scarier than the slow cross-cutting of the hill. It requires complete discipline -- unlike the uncontrolled 'hope and pray' technique that requires no skill other than balance. While you're doing 'the right way' it seems almost impossible. Then, after a while, you learn to use your outer leg as a lever. You discover you can regain control by cutting with your inner leg. Eventually the movements are automatic -- and the jaunt down the hill becomes pleasurable for two reasons. The first being that you are in complete control; the second because you worked extremely hard to get there.

So I've started to apply the techniques I now use (as a responsible skier) to my heart. Because, although it wants to rip down the mountain and gain the most thrills -- the consquences are too dire. I want to teach it how to flex muscles it doesn't even know it has so that it can enjoy the entire journey in a completely controlled fashion -- if it so chooses.