Patton, Kathleen Turner, and the Difference Between Passion and Enthusiasm

“Like yourself, I have a passion for antiquities.” – Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade

The Mrs. had a sinus infection that suppressed her ability to detect odors.  She got upset when I told people, “She doesn’t smell good.”

I’ve always disliked enthusiasm.

That doesn’t mean I haven’t been enthusiastic a time or two, usually after too much coffee or around the second beer.  But, I always, always distrust the emotion.

An aside:  I mean, is “emotion” even the right word for enthusiasm?  It feels more like a mood with a marketing department.

Passion, though?  That I feel.  That I respect.

I simply could not write this blog three times a week, week after week, year after year, without passion.  Passion is deep.  It is to the core.

It is meaning.

I’ve got to take another aside, last for the post.  Passion has a lot of definitions.  In this case, I’m using “an object of deep interest”.  Passion is one of those exceedingly strange words that has about seventeen definitions, some of them absolutely contradictory.  So, it’s not passion in the sense of “1986 Kathleen Turner sweating in a nightie while giving you that look” or passion in the “he lost his reason and committed a crime of passion” it’s passion in the sense of “General Patton was passionate about mobile combined arms warfare.”

Back to the show.  Tank you for your indulgence.

The Joan Wilder?

Enthusiasm?  That’s just the surface.  I tend to react negatively to enthusiasm and to those who try to make me feel it.  It’s a game I don’t want to play, since it is only the cheap reflection of the richness of true passion, sort of like the way Americans actually felt about the Soccer World Cup®.

Likewise, when I look at joy, I realize it is a mercurial, ephemeral, surface mood.  It lasts a second and then vanishes like the last slice of pizza in the fridge when Pugsley is home from Midwest U.

What is the deeper source people are trying to emulate with joy?

I think it’s satisfaction.  Satisfaction doesn’t spike and crash.  It settles in after the work is done, after the hard choice was made, and after I stuck with it long enough for the results to show up.

Joy is a firecracker.  Satisfaction is a campfire that keeps my soul warm.

I like enthusiastic people like I like my tea.  Under water, in a bag.

Once I started looking, similar pairs seem to show up everywhere.

Infatuation is the surface:  heart racing, the sudden conviction that this person is the answer to every problem I’ve ever had.  And yes, I’ve been infatuated a lot in my life, sometimes twice on Fridays.

Love, though, is the deep core.  It shows up when the dirty clothes are on the bathroom floor, when problems hit, and when it’s something that transcends a mere moment.

Infatuation needs constant newness.  Love needs character.

Likewise . . .

Excitement is a surface jolt I get from a new plan, a new gadget, or a diet that promises six-pack abs by Thursday.  Resolve is what remains after the novelty wears off and the plan starts requiring actual effort at 5:30 a.m.  On Monday.  In January.  Outside.  In near-freezing mud.  In Chicago.

My excitement is loud and is good at starting things.  My resolve is quiet, plodding, and is always what actually finishes any important job I start.

I hear pirates often get their hooks at a second-hand store.

There are obviously lots of others:

• Motivation vs. Discipline
• Amusement vs. Insight
• Thrill vs. Purpose
• Involvement vs. Commitment
• Attitude vs. Character

Surface feelings are fast, loud, and in today’s world, surface moods are easily manufactured.  Deep sources are slow, quiet, and nearly impossible to fake because they’re substantial.  They don’t happen in an instant.  They are fabricated over the span of years, like when Michelangelo spent four decades on his back while sculpting Neil Armstrong’s face onto Mount Rushmore.

One is today’s weather.  The other is winter, spring, summer, and fall.

Two of my friends got busted for stealing a calendar.  They each got six months.

The modern world is engineered almost exclusively to exploit the surface.  Website responses are calibrated in milliseconds, which actively kills the pause that deep feelings require.  Twitter® used to time the way “likes” showed up in my notifications for a reason.  Twitter© was algorithmically tuned to keep me glued to the app without giving me time to reflect and reach the deeper parts of my soul.

Almost all of the Internet today is built to feed the surface.  Outrage is a trap that rarely means anything, but it does drive “engagement”.  But it leaves people feeling strangely empty, because “engagement” was never meant to carry the weight and meaning of a life.

It is the foam on the beer or the paper wrap on the PEZ© candies.

I distrust enthusiasm because I have seen how quickly it evaporates and how easily it can be manufactured by people who want something from me.  I trust passion because, even though I might not agree with the person or the passion, at least it’s honest.  Passion doesn’t need the crowd’s applause because it is its own reward.

In a world that keeps trying to sell me the surface version at ever-increasing speed, choosing the deeper one is almost a rebellious act.  It is also the only version that has any meaning.

Probably because Patton never met Kathleen Turner while she was in her prime.