From Pain to Passion- an Exploration

A perfect summer sunset meets me as I step onto the roof of the industrial warehouse turned art gallery which I now call my home.  Blonde viola in left hand, carbon fiber bow in the other, tentatively I begin with tuning.  Out comes a timid sound,  maybe not more than a few choked vibrations, yet as I warm up with some simple three octave scales, something inside of me lightens up, and for a moment I am reminded of the feeling of passion.  In that moment I feel as though I alone hold the key to the universe, that I am sailing far above the plane of ordinary human thoughts.  It is a feeling that I have had many times before, that has been inspired by a handful of activities, a feeling that I treasure, but have not experienced in what feels like forever. While it may only have been a flicker, the feeling was so beautiful that I am determined to feel it again, to build on it, and to create something that inspires other people to feel the same way.
  The word passion is derived from the Greek "pashko" which means to suffer.  It is an intense emotion, compelling feeling, enthusiasm or desire for something, according to Wikipedia.  No wonder artists suffer so.  What comes out of them is of the purest joy, yet it must be extruded painstakingly with little regard for human needs in order to reach the highest peak of perfection.  But why do we need pain to feel this joy?  Why must we give everything of ourselves in order to ascend to a higher order?  When we are steeped in a consumerist mentality, which tends to be the norm, we are dependent on others to please our fancies.  Everyone but ourselves, own guts, know what is best for us.  And yet the small victories that greet us in that frame of mind, serve only to plant the next seed of want.  I suspect that pulling ourselves away from the treadmill of stuff is one of the most painful things a person can do, and it is something which can appear to alienate us from the world we  know.  Entitlement is the biggest blocker of fulfillment.  It is only when a person realizes that she alone is responsible for bringing joy into her life, and subsequently notices her power to help others, that she can transcend.
Many times in my life I have felt this flame to varying degrees.  Stepping out of a symphony concert or a particularly poignant sermon, dancing until I am wearing a soaked leotard and bloody pointe shoes, participating in a lively conversation, having an orgasm... They happen to the strongest degree if I take responsibility for my own pleasure, divorce myself from the expectations of others, and allow myself to suffer.
There is hardly a memory when it is over, and the more I try to explain to others, the more it dissipates.