Passion Prey or Passion Play?

Prey or Wolfhound Play?

Passion Prey or Passion PlaY? 
What’s your preference? 
 During my years as a coach I’ve heard this a lot… “I can’t feel my passion. I have to know my purpose. I’ve tried everything and I can’t find it .” 
 I often feel compelled to ask “What if you let it find you? When your search feels more like like passion prey, what if you used a lighter, looser, more meandering touch? Wouldn’t you rather feel passion play?”
 
Sometimes people appreciate the question and sometimes?… not so much.

Few come right out and say ‘ I prefer the thrill and high drama of the hunt’. No, the lack-lustre, suspicious response says it all. And that’s ok. If drama is your Adrenalin fix it’s important to know that. But if you’d like another way to find your passion, your purpose or a little more meaning in your life…well, I’ll ask it again. 
“What if you let it find you? When your search feels more like like passion prey, what if you used a lighter, looser, more meandering touch? Wouldn’t you rather feel passion play?”
Knowing how you’d like to feel while you’re on the lookout for it can be key to finding your purpose. Define the feeling and chances are, you’re already living with more passion and purpose than you thought.

I’m more of a passion PlaY person. I love the unexpected buzz of feeling affinity, resonance, joi de vivre`. The snap, crackle, pop of awareness enables me to create some breathing space and wiggle room for passion to find me in my everyday kind of life. I’m more easily connected to a sense of purpose in the moment. 
A long stint of work or focus feels a lot less like effort and a lot more like purpose when I can connect with curiosity. 
What about you? 
Will it be passion prey or passion play. The choice is yours… exactly as it should be.

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Backstory: the Irish Wolfhound and the Crocus -
 
I had dropped to the ground to take a closeup photo of a crocus in bloom. 
Teagen, my Irish Wolfhound closed in, intent in her desire to come to my aid. I mean I was laying prone…obviously in need of protection from this small blue thing in my face, right? The crocus turned into her prey…until she read my energy and then, alas, the poor flowers became the object of play. The hound snouted the flowers out of the soil and tossed them in the air. Prancing around, she seized the moment, tossing them up again and again. From passion prey to passion play in the blink of an eye.

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