Poke the Bear of Passion

How I Discovered I Needed Something More

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I can vividly see my old bedroom ceiling in the back of mind—the bleak white surface I would intently stare up at it. My greatest fears were projected there yelling at me: that years from now, I would still be right where I was in that moment, yearning for something more. 

I was working a 9-5 that didn’t demand much of me physically but drained me of every last mental ounce I generated. I couldn’t help but feel that I’d just arrived at the point some college graduates waste a couple extra years trying to avoid– the monotone buzz of adulthood.

“Just wait until you’re a real adult and have bills.”

“You wait until you know what real work is.”

“Hold off until you have a real-world gauge.”

These were all remarks that were beaten into me at a young age. With shit like this it’s no wonder we experience quarter life crises. No one’s ever mentioned adulthood as something to look forward to. 

Around a month into my job, I knew I had to do something else. I couldn’t willingly float in that pool that I—and everyone else—hated swimming in. However, I didn’t have the slightest clue what inspired me at the time, so I did what everyone around me seemed to do: I read a self-help book. 

It took me much longer than anticipated to finish The Untethered Soul, partly because I equipped myself with the misconception that, as a psychology graduate, there wasn’t much more for me to learn on the subject. For a large portion of the book, I was reading each page just to flip to the next—until something struck me. I found myself turning back, noting, and highlighting portions I wanted to remember.

I’m so serious when I share that, after closing that book, I felt inspired. Like a greased bike chain, I was ready to get going and move the f*** on. 

The author mentioned a yogi living life as if a sword was suspended above his head, ready at any moment to strike him dead. Many sentiments and themes stuck with me from the book, but specifically, that image. Would I wait in stillness for my own sword to strike, or would I be motivated by the promise that it could—and would—at any moment? There is no perfect time to do what you love or live the life you want, so why do we deceive ourselves? It’s always been a strange conundrum that we’re encouraged to work hard and endure hardships in our youth, when the promise of old age isn’t guaranteed. 

I started simplistically questioning what made me happy. “Triniti, would going to the gym make you happy right now?” “Yes.” “Triniti, would cleaning the kitchen make you happy?” “No.” “Triniti would being swaddled in a blanket, eating all the cookies you can, and rotting on the couch all day make you happy?” “YES”. I practiced with easy questions to gradually build a fundamental skill in myself I’m not sure I’d ever quite caught on to. Sifting through the rubbish of yeses and noes brought me to the conclusion that I wanted to leave the job, the city, and mindset that had long been expired in the kitchen cabinet. 

When I finally allowed myself to just be, my solutions came in threes. Issuing them, you might ask, was this celestial, sexy, Greek-God of an idea. I was simultaneously attracted to and horrified by it. I wanted to seriously solo-travel, and I wanted to do it soon, but what a paradox—being a recovering college-loan junkie and feeling that I needed thousands of dollars to fund my travel aspirations. I gave myself a year to save, plan, and learn all there was to know about traveling while in my comfort bubble. 

Regardless of my dilemma, there was no denying that something had awoken inside of me. Call it  following my qadar, pursuing my dharma, recognizing my God-given purpose, —whatever you want—I had to figure out how to travel. The bear of passion was hungry; I just had to figure out how to feed it.