I did not write this. Maybe at some point I translated it from Italian. I found it in my grab bag and wanted to share it with you. Today is a day of stories and Celtic tradition, when magic was most potent. What is more potent than magic? Passion. Try on this definition and share yours, if you will.
This is magic. Passion is an enchanted prayer. It’s sacred; a profound mystery that transforms through awareness. It is grace that saves. The only sin passion can commit is to exist without joy. When you see, feel the real truth of it, pay attention. Experience teaches us in a thousand years what passion gives us in one hour.
Passion is wild, chaotic, unexpected. Permissive. Excessive. Larger-than-life. Understanding. Out of control.
If moments of passion leave an indelible mark, it is this: they transcend any oblivion. The image, gesture, embrace, exchange, risk, attainment, smile, kiss, gift and the sense of being carefree; every passionate impulse lives in us and echoes within forever.
Fullness and totality fill the moments of passion. If we are to live a life that is profound and rich, a life anchored to what is important, precious and true, so that our souls may rise, passion is a necessary fuel to our flight.
True passion intoxicates and tones, it’s calming and sensual, magical and mystical. A funny thing about life: if we refuse to be content with what is less, we receive what is best.