Today I was working out with my friend Nigel. For thirty minutes once a week he absolutely kicks my ass. He makes me do things like pull-ups and hands me weights about three steps up from what I would grab from the weight rack. He makes 30 minutes feel like an eternity and a blink at the same time. He’s a demon. 

 

And I haven’t even seen the worst of him. I knowhe’s only at 80% fury with me and I would hate to see him actually go to war with someone. 

 

Beyond the exhilarating workouts –  only 30 minutes, sometimes 27 if I throw up in my mouth – I feel powerful. He teaches me. How to box, how to lift and how to do it all with max effect and no injury. He coaches me to awareness of what I am doing and how. He encourages me to push farther, go faster and punch harder. He shows me how much power I have and how I can control it. 

 

Control. 

 

Ultimately thatis what he is really helping me with. Learning how to be a better human-being amidst the human-doing. Showing me just how much I do and can control in a world of, sometimes, chaos. 

 

Mostly what he has taught me – or at least reminded me – is that I take care of and control my mind when I harness my power. When I take care of my body. 

 

He is a goddamned angel. 

 

Now let’s be clear – I’m not a full on gym rat by any stretch. But when I am in control it’s easier to hear. I’m a better listener in many respects so I am able to hear and then give my body what it needs. Sometimes that’s a bottle of wine or a sleep in on the weekend. But, more often, it’s a good fucking sweat, less Netflix and more books or coffee with a friend who makes me laugh ‘til I pee.

 

And writing. Story telling – whether a blog or an email update or an article or a keynote – has always been a kind of medicine to me. It feeds the spot where my body and mind come together – my soul. 

 

During our workout, we were chatting between sets as we do. Nigel is a smart, educated and interesting demon-angel so we always find lots to discuss. 

 

He told me today - May 1st– is the start of Mountain Bike season. Despite the fact that it will be a mud-pit, he was off to Boler Mountain to kick the season off. I hate cycling. He loves it. He also loves the mechanics of the bicycles. He likes taking them apart and putting them back together. Tinkering with them, working on adding parts and fixing them up. 

 

Much like he does with people I suppose. 

 

He mentioned a client who was having bike trouble and Nigel, being the demon-angel he is, offered to take a look and fix it up. The beneficiary of his skill as thrilled with the result and quickly asked “how much do I owe you mate? For your time?” 

 

Nigel, of course, refused to accept any compensation for it, which didn’t surprise me.

 

What didsurprise me is why. 

 

He explained to me that cycling and all things to do with cycling – including the tinkering – he considers a hobby. Something he loves to do and has a passion for. All things cycling give him a sense of joy and satisfaction and accomplishment. It engages his body and his mind.

 

Nigel told me accepting money for the work associated with it would monetize his hobby. And then, his fear, is that will leach the joy and satisfaction he gets from it. 

 

Then it would be work. 

 

What happens when you take something you “love” and you purposefully try to turn it into a job? I love cats – I’m gonna be a vet. I’m a gym rat and love fitness– I’m gonna be a physical therapist. I love being difficult and obstinate – I’m gonna be a lawyer. 

 

This is the generally accepted wisdom, right?

 

There memes and motivational posters on the topic. They say things like “do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life?” or “Chase your passion, not your pension!” Christ, even Oprah says “Follow your passion; It will lead you to your purpose”

 

But what if by doing that you wreck it? What if Nigel’s fear – that by shifting it from a hobby to work, the joy is leached from it – is true? What if I am living proof of that?

 

I think maybe, just maybe, that is what is happening to me and my passion. As I finish the book and now have to figure out the next step – actually ‘getting it published’ – it feels a lot less fun and a lot more like work. And all the energy - all that creativity and the gratifying act of scribbling out an idea or smashing out a blog entry – is being spent elsewhere.

 

And even when the energy IS available, my head is filled with thoughts like “where could I submit this for publication?” and trying to keep track of all the deadlines for writing contests and calls for submission.

 

The idea that passion alone is enough has been well disputed by people far smarter than me.

 

Adam Grant (my current obsession) talks about it in one of his podcasts The Perils of Following your Career Passion. He references how ubiquitous this “do what you love” and “follow your passion” theme is in commencement speeches. 

 

Michal Bohanes specifically references the famous Steve Jobs famous Stanford commencement speech in his excellent article ‘Following your Passion is Dead’ – Here’s what to replace it with. What I love most about this article is his distinction – and encouragement – to develop a passion rather than following it. 

 

The act of turning a hobby or a passion into a job – with a real income and a kind of stability that people need – might ruin exactly what you love most about your passion for most of us. Steve Jobs notwithstanding.

 

You know, people without a trust fund. People with rent and kids and medical bills. People like you who are working hard and saving with a hope of retiring and not dying at your desk. People like me with mortgage payments and vet bills and an uncanny ability to find all the best stuff at consignment shops so even though I am technically saving money, well… You get it. 

 

The truth is that I lovestory-telling. I do it without thinking. I do it all the time.

 

In my writing. On stage when I am asked to speak and share messages. In videos on social media about run-of-the-mill life shit that is fun and funny.  I even do it when I am – rarely – asked for advice by my baby sister who has heard some hard truths from me about what a ‘successful’ marriage actually looks like. 

 

Hint: It’s not flowers and grand gestures. It’s work and commitment and compromise. But that’s another story…

 

Story telling is my default language format and I will always find a way to tell stories that matter. What Nigel helped me realize was that by re-labelling it “work” I saddled my story-telling with the kind of uninspiring and shitty administrative stuff that makes work suck. 

 

Nigel also made me realize I need to do more dead-lifts. Glutes are the engine of the body. 

 

And while my passion – and dare I say gift – for story telling is the engine of my creative mind and who I am, it’s who I am more than what I do. It isn’t limited to articles and keynotes. And I can – and will – continue to find ways to do my story-telling in as many aspects of my life as I can. 

 

I can do that is by speaking to groups of philanthropists and donors on the impact of their generosity. I can do that working with an audience of professionals who need and want to personal development and career advice.

Story-telling – for me – is as fulfilling and validating and rewarding whether I am writing a tongue-in-cheek ‘pro-tips for running’ article after posting my worst time ever in a 10K race or a revelatory blog on struggles, fears, failures and fuck-ups.  

 

It doesn’t matter how many likes or shares or comments or subscribers. 

 

It’s not paying my mortgage. But it is feeding my soul.

 

And my soul is hungry.