💫 The patterns that reveal passions

How we can more predictably identify and follow clues for what we'll love

A brief anecdote: the hunt for the perfect “passion”

Like many millennial women crossing over the dreaded threshold of age 30, I thought I would be celebrating my 5-year anniversary to Clark Kent by now.

Merely a soulful, sensitive, highly communicative, emotionally vulnerable, musically gifted, Shakespeare sonnet quoting, 6’4”, gent.

Obviously, with Bocelli’s voice.

Undoubtedly, with Brad Pitt’s jawline.

And humbly, with the bank account of a filthy freaking rich Wall Street banker. A man who made off with more than a Madoff ponzi scheme, but through wholly moral means.

Micro-loans to women-owned businesses in sub-saharan Africa, I suspect?

My hypothetical husband will, of course, regularly phone me mid-day to check-in on how I’m “feeling” from his mahogany desk in a corner office on the top floor of One Rockefeller Plaza. Earnestly listening to the unfathomable stresses of my morning: my brunch spot on the Upper East Side running out of my favorite gluten-free pasture-raised bread, my masseuse carelessly cancelling our afternoon appointment (something to do with a pesky appendix), and our golden-doodle’s worrisome irregular bowel movements.

My man, in awe of my emotional resilience, commends me for 58 straight minutes on the phone. But unfortunately, cuts it 2 minutes short to drop for his 2 o’clock with the CEO of a Fortune 50 that he’ll bulldoze into an M&A deal with a highly favorable terms sheet. And after an all-too routine afternoon spent executing the hostile takeover of a small global airline, my man will waltz into our home overlooking Central Park West at 5:01pm sharp, with an oaky ‘65 Bordeaux, a gift-wrapped turquoise Tiffany’s box, and a freshly cut bouquet in-hand.

Tulips. My favorite, of course.

My compassionate capitalist will effusively praise the home-cooked lamb chops that I labored over with Pierre, our personal chef, after my long day of pilates. And at the end of the night, he’ll surely kiss my forehead, expounding adoration for that big, beautiful brain of mine that offered a steady stream of unsolicited advise over dinner on all matters of strategic importance at The Firm. Never mentioning, of course, that this world-class cognitive organ of mine never has — and will never need to — put a pretty little neuron to work.

Shame, really.

To be clear: I have not yet found this man. A tender hedge-fund tycoon with a big heart and a bigger yacht parked at our Hamptons home.

And for many years, I felt the same way about any meaningful pursuit: I couldn’t find that picture perfect “passion,” for the life of me.

And I envied those that had.

At times, the challenge of finding something that you're passionate about can feel a lot like the challenge of finding love.

Everybody desperately wants it. And yet, nobody knows definitively how to find it.

Worse yet — we all think we’ll know it when we see it. It should be glaringly obvious from the get-go! A model of perfection, like the man described above. Chiseled from marble by Zeus himself and doused in a heavy helping of 18 karat gold flakes that glisten from afar.

But in reality, what I’ve found is this: the people you end up loving don’t sparkle in the sun the moment you lays on them — and neither will your passion. But one day, it could very well be the thing that’s brought entirely new meaning to your life.

The problem arises though when we assume that our passion will glow or sparkle or shoot a flare-gun into the sky to irrefutably signal its presence from afar.

When we assume our “passion” will signal its location clearly, we become passive to searching more proactively.

And if you’re not foraging, of course, it should be no surprise when you come up fruitless. But sometimes, we still are surprised.

And deeply dismayed.

And after a certain point, if we’ve never felt it before — we may inevitably wonder:

Will we ever feel passionate about something?

Kickstarting courtship with what you want

Much like cultivating love with someone, cultivating inspiration for something has some upfront requirements. Namely: that annoying, complicated, hit-or-miss courtship dance.

And it’s that burden — the task of kickstarting the courtship with curiosity — that I misunderstood for too long.

See: I expected a topic of passion to lunge towards me one day — leaping over a table at the Farmer’s Market, like some highly symmetric small-town Chad, springing into action to help me after I clumsily knocked over a crate of strawberries. And in a matter of one-delicious-Hallmark-movie-minute, dazzle me with witty repartee — butterflies, fireworks. The whole she-bang.

I wanted to be swept off my feet by whatever “thing” I was going to be passionate about, and immediately too. I expected the subject of my “want” to do the work of finding me

And, diligently follow up. Chasing after me to win my affections.

Not the other way around.

I didn’t thinking finding passion — in a career, or creative pursuit — required you to be so dang proactive. And since leaving my job a month ago, I’ve only increasingly realized how common that misconception may be. I was repeatedly messaged by dear friends and prior co-workers some variation of the same thing:

“What you’re doing sounds amazing. I wish I could do that. But there’s nothing I feel passionate enough about to pursue…”

Sigh of resignation, shrug of surrender, ellipses of despair.

Such frightful little devils, those three dots can be!

Taking time off from the working world to pursue writing; from Kotor, Montenegro

I appreciated these kind words from friends and loved ones, but I was also deeply troubled by their words of self-reflection. And it’s a reflection I knew all too well.

It was like looking back at a version of myself 5 years ago, convinced that I couldn't find passion, unless passion found me.

It took some voice within me triggered by my burnout, to yank me so close one day that I could smell a grain of garlic on my own breathe from a sautéed spinach eaten 3 years ago. That inner voice — call it Intuition — had become terribly irritated by my own elipses-of-dispair-dialogue, and proceeded to say something like this:

Pull yourself together lass! And get your arse out there!

And I don’t blame myself, or anyone, for getting into that rut. Whether it’s trying to find a person or a pursuit that you feel “passion” for, the frustration can be the same:

Sometimes it’s hard to believe that something is possible to find, when no one can tell you how to find it predictably.

So we quietly sit. And we patiently wait.

And sometimes, that stasis in one realm is how you get burnt out in another: you’re burning the midnight oil on something, because you have nothing else you’re burning for. So to avoid that, first and foremost, you need to be prepared to take as much action as possible — and burn a small amount of fuel on many other things.

Finding passion requires an upfront commitment to take constant initiative.

And you need to recognize that your passion probably won’t be readily identifiable as soul-bending from the start. The relationship will feel a bit more like a loose connection. And it will probably require more than one date to go from acquaintance, to friend.

To possibly, something more.

Dabbling in long-distance running; a burgeoning passion of mine

But once you’ve made that commitment to go a bit out of your way more often, and follow up with something, even if you’re not over-the-moon interested in it right now — you’ve put yourself on the right track.

Then, it’s all about deploying that initiative as consistently as possible, on as many clues as possible, for your passion.

Some of which, may have been there all along.

4 Clues: How to identify hidden passions

Long before there’s any serious “commitment,” you merely commit to participate in the process that primes a full-blown passion. You start by getting your arse out there.

Calmly, but diligently, dating around.

The goal is identify as many small, unique patterns of yours as possible, and muster up the curiosity to court those clues, even when you don’t feel like it.

And so far, I’ve observed a few clues that are worth courting:

Clue #1: Things about you that other people might call “quirks”

My parents were the first ones to casually observe, and remark something to the effect of — “hey kiddo, you seem to like writing.”

And it wasn’t because it was obvious. I didn’t plop down each day to journal endlessly, or write out long soliloquies in my spare time, or even actively pursue any writing beyond the absolute bare minimum required for a 5th grade book report.

The clues are rarely so overt.

Rather: their remark was in regards to birthday cards, and I had a reputation in the family for writing rather extensive ones. And at the time, I didn’t think anything of it. Many people make homemade birthday cards!

Many people do not, however, labor over 2000 word hand-written mini-booklet birthday cards.

Looking back, of course — it seems like an obvious signal of something. But sometimes, we’re too close to ourselves to notice a pattern that’s slightly unusual.

So for starters: expect the clues to your calling to look a lot like things that you may be dismissing as “quirks” today, and in particular, things that other people callout. Things that perhaps your friends or family tease you about — things you like, hate, collect, or create. Things that you have a reputation for studying, noticing or appreciating slightly more often than the average person.

Because chances are, it’s a quirk.

And so far, I’ve found that there’s no better clue for what might be a yet undeveloped passion, than a good, solid quirk.

Clue #2: Things served up to you on social media.

While social media has many unsavory elements that stem from constant connection to the public sphere, it can also be an incredibly useful tool for understanding your personal one:

Instagram and TikTok have come the closest to building a predictable way of identifying our own interests. They’ve literally built an algorithm that captures our sub-conscious curiosities.

That makes some people uncomfortable, because it’s using your ~data~. Which I get it.

But hot damn is it powerful in identifying what intrigues you.

I view the “explore” feed in these apps as a goldmine of insight into ourselves — constantly capturing and calibrating on the subtlest signals of our interests, far better than perhaps we could ever consciously do on our own.

So if there’s a channel just sitting there with all of your interests, why not try taking a moment to open it up and study what you’re being served?

If your Instagram feed is serving endless videos on how to make flourless cakes, or video clips of slow motion wildlife, or impressively choreographed Bachata couples dance routines — follow that scent, and consider making even the tiniest micro-investment. Even if it feels completely silly. Even if you’re not sure if you’re actually interested in it.

Enroll in a class, attend a workshop, read a book, listen to a podcast, volunteer, join an online forum, reach out to a loose connection to learn more, watch a YouTube tutorial, or subscribe to a few blogs on the topic.

These apps know that something caught your eye for some reason. And that’s an invaluable starting point. But it’s still on you to take the initiative to understand why.

Basically: ask the clue out for coffee.

Clue #3: Things that you have strong opinions on

My mom takes a ton of photos on her iPhone. But she doesn’t actually know much about the technicalities of photography. Don’t go asking her about shutter speeds, apertures or f-stop settings.

But, ask her what she likes in a photo? She’ll give the most comprehensive, nuanced, professional-grade response.

Sometimes, she’ll specifically callout liking the open-endedness of a photo, that makes the viewer wonder what happened just before or just after the moment was captured. Other times, she’ll comment on the juxtaposition of geometric patterns, uniquely brought to life when filtered in black-and-white, but otherwise overlooked in color.

Photos from mom's dabbling in photography, shot on an iPhone

Meanwhile: ask me the same question about a photo? I’ll probably comment on the pretty colors. Or the nice landscape. I probably won’t have a strong opinion between any two, or detailed thoughts.

But — ask me my thoughts between two different books? I can gush endlessly on the subtle symbolism and complex metaphors that I adored in one, or brutally eviscerate the pained pacing that had me slugging my way through another.

I rarely have strong opinions on anything. But I can have very strong opinions on writing (and that often, painfully, includes my own).

So consider this: what are things for which you have strong opinions?

And take note.

Because, regardless of whether anyone shares those opinions, the fact that you have a thoughtful and nuanced perspective is a sign that you value something, and notice it more than the average person.

Even if you’re not (yet) a more active creator of it.

Clue #4: Things that you’re price insensitive towards

I’ve never once checked the price on a book and had it alter my decision to purchase it. If I like the book, I’m buying the book, even if I need to pull out a second mortgage or pawn off my great-grandmother’s fine China.

Same goes for gym membership fees, movie tickets, a good Cosmo, and computer software of any kind. These are things that I’m oddly price insensitive to — even if I know that they’re overpriced. And, when I dig a little deeper, they’re also related to areas that I could see myself enjoying learning more about.

To be clear: I’m not ablaze with longing to hurl myself into studying these areas. Curiosity isn’t burning in me with red-hot desire.

But, I do sorta-kinda like the idea of knowing more, and perhaps even being skilled at some of them: fitness, mixology, video production and software development. Clues, baby.

Recent cocktails enjoyed on my travels; an emerging interest validated by my Instagram news feed flooded with "how-to" mixology videos.

What you spend on today may either be an early predictor for what you could like, or a lagging indicator of what you already like. But which, doesn’t really matter.

It doesn’t matter if I’m price insensitive to an expensive gym because I already have a gym habit. The point is: it’s there, and it’s just another juicy data point to consider cultivating some curiosity behind.

And, interestingly, some things that I never spend money on?

A proper set of non-stick kitchenware (I’ll just keep scrubbing these sad, crusty Walmart pans until my fingers bleed), designer bags (though I do have an impressive collection of the “Ferrari of fake” Louis Vuittons) and interior decor (it took about 3 years of living in my apartment before I put up my first painting).

Clearly, I don’t value these things enough, and that checks out when I consider the subject areas they relate to. I don’t enjoy cooking, am a bit comme se, comme sa on fashion, and apparently like art written in words more than art hung on walls.

So keep it simple, and don’t overthink it. What good, service or activity do you rarely think about spending money on?

And consider if there’s delight to be had beyond merely being a “consumer” of it.

Consider, perhaps, exploring being a creator of it.

Conclusion

As with all relationships, there will be some candidates of curiosity that you end up repeatedly investing in, and some you won’t. Some will build momentum, and some are best to part ways with. You’ll have ups, and downs — not all relationships are easy.

But should a passion emerge that you want to get more serious with, you may find yourself longing to push for the next step: how might we exclusively pursue this passion, so that we never need to court another career again?

“What” you need to do is easy — but it doesn’t always come with the best outcome.

Anyone can quit their job and recite some vows to monetize and “marry” their passion. But your spouse — like a career — should be selected with extra care. It should come with some stability, if you’re going to manage your finances together, let alone anchor on it as source of income. And it shouldn’t be someone or something that you feel you need to force-fit.

In your desperation to warm your passion to the idea of monetization, it may in fact, warp into something else. Something that you don’t in fact want to marry your finances to.

And that’s okay. Because you don’t need to.

A passion pursuit doesn’t need to be your spouse, and it doesn’t need to give you everything in order to be fulfilling. Your spouse, your friends, your family — they’re all important relationships, and they all play different roles in making you feel deeply satisfied. Some make you laugh until it hurts. Some are amazing listeners that just make you feel seen.

You can love them all and you can love them for different reasons. And you don’t ask any one of them to try to be everything that you need all the time.

I chose to make my relationship to money, wholly separate from my relationship to my passion, for now. I don’t want to write things that might be easier to monetize: tween vampire novels, political commentary, or TechCrunch articles.

I want to write what I want to write, even if it doesn’t sell. And well-intentioned but vague soundbites, sometimes glaze over those details: love what you do and you’ll never work a day in your life!

I can love writing, but if it can’t put food on the table beyond three grains of rice a week, who cares if I’m not technically “working” when I’m withering away. I won’t even have enough calcium for basic cognitive functioning, let alone a creative bone in my body.

So, I’d like to rephrase into something slightly less catchy, but perhaps, more concrete:

Find a career that gives you breathing room for your finances, and your focus. Something that leaves sufficient headspace to cultivate clues for what you might be passionate about, and enough runway to let that “quirk” find its quirky community.

Then, you don’t need to sprint for monetization. You don’t need to worry about your passion’s niche-ness in a desperate effort to put food on the table. You don’t need to prematurely kill your “quirk,” and perhaps, the passion in the process.

That’s my working theory, at least.

And if you’ve made it this far through a post, that means this quirky writer’s passion pursuit serves a community of at least two.

And that’s enough clue-confirmation to keep me going.

So thank you, friend, for reading. For being a part of this journey, even from afar.

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