You Were Born To Be YOU!
She was born with it. He's had it in him from the start. How often have we all heard that. Or even said that ourselves? Like, a million times? At least.
What exactly does that imply. To me that signifies a person that is doin' what they're doin' for the love of doin' it. They're being the person they were meant to be. Basically they're living their lives to the fullest. Pure unadulterated bliss.
Not because they were told to do it. Not because they have to. Nope, not at all. They're doing it because they want to. Yes, because they want to. And even more than that, because they need to. And how do they feel this need? Their passion tells them so. Continuously.
That nagging inner voice, the one that never seems to sleep. You know the one. We've all heard it. With each and every decision we make and even those we've yet to make, there it is. Should we? Shouldn't we? What if we do and things turn out bad? What if we don't and wish we had? Round and round we go, when or if it will stop, who the heck knows.
I believe that inner voice is in everyone. Some hidden a bit deeper down inside than in others, some easier squelched than others but either way, there's no denying that this voice calls to all of us in one way or another.
I prefer to think of it as the real you, the you that outsiders don't always see, perhaps don't even know exists. The you that's inside you 24/7, every waking (and sometimes sleeping) moment, calling you, pushing you, forcing you, driving you, motivating you to do whatever it is you do that feeds your fire. That fuels your passion.
We've all seen 'em, those crazies that do whatever it is they do and we just sit there (most of the time on the couch) in awe, mouths gaping, wondering why on earth would anybody in their right mind want to do that. To risk both life and limb for two minutes of thrills.
Not that this very question couldn't be applied to those that cruise the shadier parts of town late at night in search of female companionship but that's another story entirely. One we'll save for a later date.
As I was sayin', what could cause these insaniacs to scower the globe for two minutes of thrills. There must be a voice within them as well. Although one would tend to believe that their inner voice must be a bit on the semi insane side, with a dash of crazy sauce mixed in as well and screaming very loudly to get them to do what they do.
Most of us don't have those kinds of huevos rancheros at our immediate disposal, no matter how loud that voice is yelling. Nope, they truly are a special breed indeed.
But one thing's for sure, they're listening to their voice. They're pursuing their passion path because their voice is so overwhelmingly loud that to not follow it would be sheer madness.
Or at the very least leaving them with such a painfully hollow feeling that it would drive them completely bonkers (wow, that's a first for me. I'm not sure I've ever even said the word bonkers, let alone typed it).
So for them, to not do it, to not pursue their passion isn't even an option.
Now, where does that leave the others? The ones not challenge driven. Hmmmm, that might not be a correct way of looking at it. Who's to say that others aren't motivated by their own challenges?
That challenge doesn't have to come in the form of say, skydiving without a parachute and landing in a pile of cardboard boxes, jumping from the Space Station without a clue, nor with surfing 50ft. waves. Heck, not even by going to Walmart on a Saturday morning (ok, maybe that last one isn't quite as dangerous as the first few but still pretty flippin' dangerous on its own merit).
Nosiree, who's to say that each of our challenges isn't equally as daunting in our eyes. Each of us have our own Comfort Zone and stepping outside of it isn't easy for any of us. We've all heard that saying 'Life begins just outside your Comfort Zone' and I don't think that could be any more true.
We're all safe in our CZ (at least we tend to think so anyway) but once we take that risk and step outside the zone, all the way out to the Unknown Zone, the zone of the yet to be known, then we're basically at the mercy of who knows what and as we all fear, bad things could happen.
More often than not, these bad things never materialize but our imagination sure warned us they could and more than likely they would. Which kinda adds to the excitement once we return safe and sound to our Known Zone, our Comfort Zone. But initially we're all scared comfortable~less.
I guess what it comes down to then is who's job is it to determine the validity of what each of us considers a challenge?
Perhaps public speaking is your outta bounds. Statistics say that more people fear public speaking than fear death itself. I mean c'mon, more people would rather die than to speak in front of a crowd?
No doubt making a fool of yourself in front of a crowd of people can be super humiliating. But worse than death? I'm not 100% sold on that one. Humiliation I can recover from. Death, chances of an encore aren't too good as I doubt I'd make it back alive. At least not with all my faculties intact. So to be honest, I'd rather risk the public speaking gig. But that's just me. To each his own.
How about those that don't appear to be driven by risk, by ego, by anything that any of us can see and by what appears to most people to be anything but fun. In fact it's almost as if they're striving to reach their Fun Free Zone, the land of zero fun factor. What the heck motivates those people to do whatever it is that they do?
You know the ones. We've all seen 'em. They tend to prowl the neighborhoods early in the morning, way before the sun even thinks about waking up. The weather can be good, bad or anywhere in between (and it's usually so dark at that time anyway that even guessing at the weather is a shot in the dark at best). The only other people awake at that time are either drunks still out from the previous night or people delivering newspapers or just plain ol' drunks delivering newspapers. Take your pick.
So they're definitely not doing it to show off their outfits. I mean how could they be. When you're dressed in stretch pants, day glo sneakers, a hoodie and a miners headlight, what's there to show off. Especially at O dark thirty when it's so dark out that you can't even see far enough to tie your shoelaces (so grateful for velcro). And last I checked, unless you're Lindsay Lohan or Paris Hilton, the paparazzi isn't even around to chase after your butt at that hour.
What the heck is it then that drives these sorta crazies to do what it is they do? If it's not adrenaline, fame, fortune nor fun, then what on earth could it be?
Hmmmmmm, could it perhaps be their inner voice? The voice that drives us all without rhyme nor reason nor regard for what others might think? Maybe there's something to that. What else is there. Nothing else even comes close to making any sense.
Not that it makes any sense whatsoever to put yourself through that kind of brutal torture, morning after morning. After morning. And yes, we know it's morning after morning because we can pretty much set our alarm clocks down to the very second based on their morning ritual.
From the minute we hear the front door slam to the bump of the trash can on the way down the driveway as they slide past the parked car, on to the first barking dog two houses away and the succession of barking dogs as they continue to make their way down the block until once again there's finally blissful silence (mixed in with a car alarm or six) and we can once again shove our heads in to our pillows in hopes of somehow gettin' a bit more shuteye before our alarm clocks go off.
Who on earth would put themselves through that kinda torture day after day. After day. And then come right back again the next day and do it all over again? You'd think that at some point they would have realized that this path they were continually pursuing only leads to pain.
Shouldn't that be more than enough to make them stop? One would think so but apparently not. In fact it's almost as if they enjoy it. As if they thrive on this pain. And crazy as it sounds, they want more of it. They NEED more of it. If not, why would they always seem to have a smile on their face? 'Nuff said.
AHA! (cue the lightbulb) There must be more to this scenario than what meets the eye. There simply has to be more goin' on behind the scenes. If it was just pure lunacy or merely plain ol' masochism, then the routine would surely change once in a while, ya know, just to keep things lively. But nope, you could time the Space Shuttle landing at Edwards AFB by their redonculous pursuit of ridiculousness (or what appears to be ridiculous to us mere mortals anyway).
Matter of fact it appears that they set their stopwatches by it as well. If I'm not mistaken, every flippin' morning. Now I can't swear by this because it's so dang dark out but from what I can see and hear, it sure looks like it though.
Okay then, since we've ruled out sheer insanity, utter lunacy as well as all out masochism, what else is there? What else could it be that drives these people, continually pushing them through the pain, time and time again. And again.
Gotta be passion. Pure, unrelentingly passionate passion. A deep down, inner desire for what it is they do. More than love, passion is the fuel that somehow seemingly renews itself time and time again.
Like a never ending fountain of 'gotta do it' sauce, forever flowing, they simply know inside that this is their mission, their passion, their chosen path (not as much a path they chose for themselves but a path their souls chose for them) and so it's not a matter of choice. It's not up to them to decide to listen to their voice or not. It's much bigger than that. Excuses be damned, don't even bother comin' 'round 'cause they ain't even listenin'.
Throw a throbbing blister, a missing toenail (or ten), even a pulled hamstring at 'em and they're not even phased. They're instantly plotting out how best to alter their workout regime to promote the healing process to those affected areas while still maintaining everything else the best they can.
Those mini maladies are merely part of the process, bumps on the road to progress, on their path to becoming the person they were truly meant to be. To the person they know they should be and inside they know they must be.
So, crazy as it may seem to those of us staring at the inside of our eyelids (or at any rate trying our best to anyway) at that time of the morning, we have no choice but to admire those around us that are pursuing their passions, chasing their dreams, all in search of becoming the person they were born to be.
If you can relate to anything in this post, I'd enjoy hearing your comments in the box below and if you know of anyone who might enjoy it, I'd appreciate it if you'd share it with them. Thank you.