What Does it Really Mean to Be Passionate?
A Conversation with My Dad on the Meaning of Passion
“Passion is energy. Feel the power that comes from focusing on what excites you.” — Oprah Winfrey
“I’m not passionate,” my dad says.
My mom and I freeze mid-step, exchanging confused glances. Did we hear that right? This from a man who follows his curiosity wherever it leads?
My dad dives deep into everything — whether it’s mastering fly fishing, skiing, kiteboarding, or spending hours perfecting his pickleball serve with my mom. His garden is a living canvas, and he rattles off Latin plant names like they’re everyday words. He devours books, podcasts, and documentaries at a pace that would overwhelm most. And yet, here he is, claiming he’s not passionate.
“How could you say that?” I ask, genuinely baffled. Passionate feels like the very definition of him.
He pauses, thinking it over. “I think of passionate people as outwardly exuberant,” he finally replies.
That stuns me. If anyone is exuberant, it’s him. He can talk for hours about the new hike he’s discovered or the latest podcast he’s listening to, his excitement lighting up the room. Yet somehow, he’s convinced that passiondoesn’t fit.
And he’s not the only one who feels this way. Corey Keyes, a psychologist who’s spent over 25 years researching languishing — what he calls “the middle child of mental health,” a state where life feels like it’s on autopilot, with a sense of going through the motions without any real spark — also hesitated when I asked him about his own passion.
“There are many times when you wouldn’t look at the way I’m acting and say I’m passionate,” he told me in our On Fire interview. “And yet you don’t know it’s the magical world inside of thinking and ideas and math. It’s like a quiet turtle form of passion.”
It seems the word passion trips up even those who are deeply invested in their pursuits.
So what does it really mean to be passionate? Robert Vallerand, the leading researcher on the subject, defines passion this way:
“A strong inclination toward a self-defining activity that one likes (or even loves), finds important, and in which one invests time and energy. These activities come to be so self-defining that they represent central features of one’s identity.”
Let’s break that down.
An activity that one likes (or even loves). This is the emotional core of passion: Does it fill you with joy and excitement? Passion can feel like being in love. Do you think about it even when you’re not doing it? Notice little details others might overlook? If the thought of it energizes you, you’re probably passionate about it.
An activity that one finds important. Passion isn’t just about enjoyment—it carries personal value. It shapes who you are and what you strive for. Pickleball isn’t just a game for my parents — it’s a connection to a community and a means to stay active. For Keyes, researching languishing isn’t just a career, it’s a mission to bring light to a neglected area of mental health.
An activity in which one invests time and energy. Passion draws you in. You don’t just think about it — you give it your time and energy, often without realizing it. Whether it’s practicing, researching, or refining your skills, passion has a way of commanding your attention. My dad loses hours in his garden, just as my own passions for writing and jiu-jitsu take up significant parts of my day.
A self-defining activity. This is where passion truly becomes part of who you are. My dad isn’t just a guy who gardens — he’s a gardener. And I’m not just someone who enjoys writing — I’m a writer. When a passion seeps into your identity, it’s no longer just a hobby; it’s a defining trait.
Vallerand puts it this way in The Psychology of Passion: “Those who have a passion for playing basketball, playing the guitar, or writing poetry do not merely engage in these activities,” Vallerand writes in The Psychology of Passion. “They are ‘basketball players,’ ‘guitar players,’ and ‘poets.’”
Passion vs. Calling
It’s easy to confuse passion with calling, but they’re not the same. We often get tripped up by the idea that passion means having one all-consuming focus — a “one true passion.” But passion exists on a spectrum.
You can be passionate about anything — from dragon boating to LAN parties to extreme ironing. Maybe your passion lines up with a calling, but it doesn’t have to. For example, I’m passionate about handstands — not in the sense that I want to run away and join the circus, but I love practicing them, do them often, and geek out over little details most people wouldn’t even notice.
It helps to think of passion as existing on a scale. You might be deeply passionate about one thing, like pickleball (as my parents are), and have a more casual passion for something else, like poetry. With pickleball, you might spend hours playing, talking about strategy, and working on your technique, while poetry might be something you enjoy on occasion. Even if you’re not attending poetry slams every week, you’re still more passionate about it than the average person. Just like with handstands, even though they’re not my main focus, they still add something meaningful to my life.
Passions don’t have to be all or nothing. They bring value in different ways — whether they’re at the center of who you are or just add small moments of joy to your day.
Passions Don’t Need to Be All-Consuming
Passion looks different for everyone. You don’t have to be obsessed to be passionate. It doesn’t require thinking about something every waking moment or turning your life upside down. Like Keyes said, sometimes passion is quiet — it’s that spark of curiosity, a fulfillment, or a subtle value it brings to your life. Passionate rants aren’t required.
To me, passion is the opposite of languishing. Being passionate means caring deeply. Passion gives you a reason to get excited, a reason to wake up each morning with enthusiasm. If you’re ever in doubt, ask yourself: Does this make me feel more alive? If the answer is yes, you can safely say you’re passionate about it.
I think about this as my dad continues talking.
“I love gardens,” he says, as my mom and I remind him how much he enjoys plants. “I love watching plants grow. I love the natural world. And gardening is very creative. You know, you’re putting plants together and textures and colors. But I wouldn’t call myself passionate about it.”
My mom and I exchange another bewildered glance. “So what if we moved to a condo,” she teases, “on the third floor, with a beautiful view, but no garden?”
“Shoot me now,” he replies without missing a beat, then stops to snap a photo of us in front of a brilliant orange and red tree.
If that’s not passion, I don’t know what is.
This is great. To me, it seems distinguish a disposition — like outward exuberance— with an activity or idea you care about, spend a lot of time on, and changes you.
I think that being and feeling passionate are easily conflated with how a person, in this case, your Dad, shows up. Person background history and experience has an enormous influence on expression manner. I will hazard a guess that your Dad’s background ‘taught’ him something that leads to his non-acknowledgement of his passion in the ways most would.
Avi