#28 On Unromanticizing "Passion"

A sturdier definition of the word

Two weeks ago, I attended a consumer immersion where I met and got to interview an 18-year-old girl named Jenna.

Jenna comes from a middle-class family. She’s a college freshman studying Astronomy. Astronomy! I mean, do you know anybody else studying Astronomy?!

(Apparently, in the Philippines, only two universities are offering that course. Jenna explained that some kids apply for it because, you know, with unclear and limited job prospects, the course isn’t exactly in demand — which means there are higher chances of getting in. It’s merely a way to get their foot into the door of college, and these kids will just shift to their desired and more practical course later on. Jenna clarified that she is not one of them. She genuinely wants to study Astronomy and do cool space-related stuff. Very cool.)

We asked Jenna: “When you hear the word ‘passion’, what comes to mind?”

She paused, glanced at her hands, and then at us. You can tell she has an answer — but you can sense her uncertainty about it.

After a while, she finally said: “Yung dedication mo sa isang bagay.”

To translate, “passion”, to Jenna, is simply “one’s dedication to something.”

Hearing that was like a splash of cold water on my body and heart and soul.

When we think of “passion,” I think we’re more inclined to think of it in these terms: It’s something you enjoy. Something you love doing. Something you’re naturally good at. Your unique, God-given talent. And perhaps passion can be those things. But to Jenna, delight and ability are secondary. To her, you can only claim that something is your passion if you’re willing to stick with it. It’s a matter of showing up, fully knowing it won’t always be easy.

We asked Jenna what her “passion” was.

Her answer, translated from Tagalog: “To finish my course, pursue a master’s degree, and work for space companies.”

Talking to Jenna, you cannot miss the quiet sparkle in her eyes and the strong sincerity in her voice. And it really makes you think, “This kid is going to go far.” She knows what most of us tend to take for granted: That one can be passionate — but short-fused. And so, perhaps, we’re better off seeing “passion” as something closer to “endurance” rather than “enjoyment.”

Meeting Jenna was such a privilege. A true jolt of inspiration. I remembered that I wrote about the same theme two years ago, so I’m sharing it here to complement Jenna’s story.

To Find What Matters, Follow Your Blisters

“Follow your passion”, they used to say.

Then, over the years, the adage’s cracks started to show. It turns out the “perfect” job — the one that you feel wholly, fervently passionate about — is an illusion. Also, know that following your passion is an entirely different thing from being able to live off of it. (Do you even have the necessary skillset or, as Cal Newport calls, the “career capital” to make your passion a viable pursuit?). Lastly, have you really asked yourself how much you want it? Could there be a speck of a possibility that, one day, you’ll wake up and find that the fire wasn’t as strong as you thought it was?

Still, when someone says: “Do what you love and you’ll never have to work a day in your life”, how can you not consider the advice?

Dan Cable, a Professor of Organizational Behavior at London Business School, has studied and observed people’s job choices and careers for 25 years. And he offers a surprisingly different lens: Forget passion. Follow your blisters instead.

“A blister appears when something wears at you — and even chafes you a bit — but you keep getting drawn back to it”, explains Cable. “It implies something about perseverance and struggling through tasks even though they are not always blissful.” So, the key is to ask yourself: “What kind of work do I find myself coming back to, even when I don’t succeed right away, even when it seems like it’s taking too long to make progress, or even when I get discouraged?”

Your childhood could also provide clues. Psychologist Martin Seligman frames it this way: “What activities were you already doing as a child that you still do now?”

I was never one of those people who always knew she wanted to write. I never saw a career out of it until recently. But looking back now, I realize how I always found avenues to keep doing it. From my Snoopy childhood diary, I graduated to three — yes, three — star-adorned, cringe-worthy blogs. Next was the Tumblr Teen years filled with dramatic quotes and heartbreak posts. Then, as dignity came with age, I resorted to a private online journal. Recently, I found myself writing short essays, of all places, in my Strava app after my evening runs.

When I finally decided to embrace the craft, it didn’t take long to realize just how maddening it is. Every piece presents its own challenges. There’s always that nagging feeling that I could do better. From day one, it has been an endless cycle of random slumps, creative blocks, multiple revisions, and disheartening rejections.

With my day job, I can just quit writing or not work so hard at it. Besides, at this point, with minimal readership, it feels like no one really cares.

Yet, I can’t help it. I care. Somehow, I keep finding my way back to the blank page. And here I am now, trying a little harder than the last time.

I remember Mark Manson’s perspective some time ago on understanding what people want out of life. He said that the most important thing you must ask yourself isn’t what you enjoy. “Pleasure is an easy question. And pretty much all of us have similar answers”. The more interesting question?

“What is the pain that you want to sustain?”

What you’re willing to struggle for is much more telling of what will ultimately give you a sense of fulfillment. Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl echoes the same in his book Man’s Search for Meaning: “These sufferings are even the things of which I am most proud, though these are things which cannot inspire envy.”

Here’s an even more interesting bit: Even American mythologist Joseph Campbell who famously said “Follow your bliss” was disappointed that people seemed to have missed his point. He never meant to encourage a life that revolved around chasing pleasure and satisfying desires. And later on, he reportedly remarked: “I should’ve said, ‘Follow your blisters’ instead!”

It seems that the common thread — the strongest determinant of work that matters — is the value of struggle.

What’s that activity or project that you need to see through to the end, without prompt, and regardless of how difficult or how long it takes? You’re well aware that the process may leave you with a few scars, but you don’t mind. Eventually, as Cable writes, “You move past the blister stage, into toughened skin.”

“Follow your blisters” isn’t nearly as sexy as “follow your passion,” but perhaps the two aren’t really that different. After all, the word passion originates from the Latin root “pati-”— a term that means “that which must be endured.”