Appassionato

Barbara C. Gonzalez

Appassionato is the past participle of a Latin word that means “to impassion”. It is found in music
sheets, where the composer wants us to interpret a passage with passion. It should have been tattooed on
our palms as we were handed to the stork for delivery. Then we would have been saved from vacillating
between deadening dullness and paralyzing panic, from the trouble of learning on our own that life without
passion is like salad without dressing- safe, healthy, not fattening, and unspeakably drab.
Passion comes from the Latin word for “suffering,” hence the Passion of Christ. It implies suffering
for a cause deemed noble: Christ believed in His divine mission and carried it through to an extremely
uncomfortable death. We see that passion transcends the physical and, contrary to common perception, is
neither totally mindless nor totally blind. We determine with our reason how we want to live and recognize
the companion pieces of our choices-the possible grief, the potential rewards, our trade-offs. When desire
smothers diffidence, when we opt for paths less travelled, corners less explored, then we live life with
passion.
Analysing passion is like defining love. We teeter dangerously on the brink of mawkishness.
Groping with imagery I find myself thinking of love as cup of warm chocolate and passion as hot, strong,
almost think coffee. Chocolate soothes, comforts, is sweet. Coffee unleashes energy, has a full-bloodied
flavour, a touch of bitterness unpleasant to others, but delicious to the drinker.
Love is soft; passion is smoulder. Love might be contentment, but passion is adventure. It must be
free, untethered. It must explore, drive beyond boundaries, break moulds. Passion discovers, unearths,
examines, magnifies, revels in details. Love rolls up details into a coherent whole. Love is passive; passion
hyperactive. Where love is melancholic, passion is pain.
Love and passion are inseparable. Extreme desire for another person’s body without awe of that
person’s soul is lust. But when the desire for another body proceed from a need to connect with that body’s
cherished uniqueness, its soul, then the desire becomes passion. Lust quickly disappears. Passion is
insatiable.
I asked a friend to recall a lustful encounter. She quickly described the mechanics of that episode-
how they met, where they went, how they meshed, how quickly the storm passed. I then inquired a man
with whom I knew she had had a passionate connection. “He turned my blood smoke.” She said, staring
into a distance, and though it had been many years, I knew she remembered in her gut what it had felt like
to be with him.
Passion is visceral. It stands outside traditional thinking. It ignores conventions like distance, time
social acceptance. It dares into uncharted waters. It used to be primarily associated with romantic love.
Today, thanks to authors like Tom Peters and Nancy Austin (A Passion for Excellence), passion’s
boundaries have been extended to embrace work, entrepreneurial endeavours, corporate success.
And why not? Work should be done with passion. I abandon myself to my career as I would to a
lover. I take professional and personal risks. When I win, I soar. Other times I hit the pavement with a
resounding thud. In between I do battle with indifference. I have been for the most part, successful; not
because I am best but because I do my best and that for me is a passionate, fulfilling life.
If passion is so good, then why do many fear it? Because by its etymology (from the Latin word
“passus”, past participle of “pati” meaning to suffer) it bring pain. To be capable of passion one must be
open, vulnerable, and brave enough to stare pain in the eye. It is safer, easier to be closed, unfeeling, unhurt.
Also, passion picked up unsavoury reputation along the centuries. A murder committed by a person
who found his/her beloved in the arms of another was labelled “a crime of passion”; encouraging many to
shun “passion” when they should have avoided “crime.” If instead the killing had been called “a crime of
murderous temper,” then perhaps more people could have surrendered to passion.
I believe that a life lived with passion shimmers, shines, rises above the ordinary. Allow me to
seduce you into passionate existence. To think, to sing, maybe even to sigh- appassionato.