Pursuing Your Passions: May The Road Rise Up To Meet You

As St. Patrick’s Day approaches, I’ve been thinking about what perfect emerald green jewelry to wear. Soon afterward, I’ll enjoy the early whiffs of spring and a ricotta cream-filled pastry on St. Joseph’s Day. Then it’s on to a hotdog with mustard on Baseball’s Opening Day.

I can’t deny it; I love marking a year full of holidays. But only a few months ago, I dismissed these small and happy holiday moments as too unimportant to others and the Me-I-Wanted-To-Be to mention. Now, I’m glad to declare that even these less serious observances hold their charm for me.

How did I arrive at this spot? As I chipped away at building my life after retiring, I somewhat halfheartedly decided to take the typical retirement advice to discover my passions for inspiration. Although I was never sure how strong an interest had to be to be considered a passion—how strong is passionate strong?—I took the first few steps.

The process starts small—back to when you were small—by recalling happy moments you got lost in. Things popped into my head, like being obsessed with getting really good at my Jingle Jump and teaching myself how to play the piano. And I enjoyed making my famous scrambled eggs for family breakfasts.

But my mind’s eye kept veering to my colorful grade school bulletin boards: stencils of books and pencils changing to autumn leaves, pumpkins, the first Thanksgiving feast, the Star of Bethlehem, profiles of Washington and Lincoln flanking a doily-ed heart, and so on. I always volunteered to decorate them, and I loved it.

As much as I wanted to disqualify my ancient, though delightful, memory as long gone and too trivial, I had to confess that I still looked forward to special trips to Home Goods to buy holiday-themed cocktail napkins and other decorative mementos—Valentine’s hearts, anyone? Shamrocks? I even subscribe to an online magazine entitled—wait for it—Holidays and Celebrations. There’s no question; the holiday force is with me.

Not that I’m one-dimensional. I still enjoy cooking, which now includes an interest in nutrition and efficiently managing my kitchen steps. Have you seen the episode of The Bear where Carmy times his steps from station to station? That’s what I mean, but without the timer. I’m drawn to personal development and can’t get enough self-help books. I love watching my garden seedlings become eggplants and adding a touch of elegance to life.

But do I really want to analyze and dissect these pastimes of mine, weaving them into something more significant to thread through my life? I don’t think so. I’ve come to stop overthinking it—and killing the fun—and just let myself enjoy it, wherever it may—or may not—lead. Perhaps unearthing a hidden passion holds a unique power of sorts?

This brings me back to where I started: my love for celebrating holidays, which involves a good collection of things I genuinely enjoy. Even better, accepting this aspect of myself—unfiltered and unembellished by who I thought I should be, without twisting myself to fit a specific mold of what a successful retirement ought to be—brings a new level of comfort and joy (holiday pun intended).

Perhaps it’s simply written in the stars that I celebrate holidays since I was born on George Washington’s birthday. Whether destiny, passion, or quirk, I’m happy to acknowledge this spark for holidays and let its pleasurable pull take me along.

So, as I reach for my favorite green scarf, I’m sending wishes for the road to rise up to meet you, the wind to always be at your back, and a Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Photo: My brother Paul's St. Patrick’s Day party attire (photo courtesy of Paul)