Passion And Subtlety

Now I know what you are thinking, "There is nothing subtle about passion". You might be right on one level or another, but I am starting to think that the passion in my life is driven by an appreciation of subtleties.

I love to fly fish. It is a tedious, technical pursuit. It comes easy to no one, any success to be had is the result of subtle and delicate effort. Based upon the time and money expended and the satisfaction and happiness that I derive from it, I think it qualifies as one of my passions.

Horsemen judge other horsemen by the quality of their hands. Not their size and shape but the ability to send the minutest signal and create the desired result. The creation of a "horseman's hands" is a lifelong pursuit. It is the result of years and years of practice. "Good hands" are a delicate blend of timing, experience and instinct. The appreciation of the subtlety fires the passion.

Twenty seven years ago this coming New Year, I sat in my buddy's pickup truck and watched a girl standing in the parking lot of the Crested Butte Ski Area. Snow flakes, the tiny light ones that fall like down feathers, fell into her long blonde hair. That may not sound like much of a moment, but my life turned on it.

Eighteen years ago, last week, a tiny hand grabbed onto mine as we started across the street to walk into Midland Memorial Hospital and visit the postpartum unit to meet a new member of the family. The excitement of a little red haired kid and the trust that came with the clasp of that little hand stirred something in me that has waned little in time.

I have laughed with friends that I love like my own family so hard that I could scarcely take a breath. I have shed buckets of tears with the very same. I have seen with my own eyes the very essence of a deceased loved one embodied in the talent and manner of their child and grandchild. I now look for the subtle and delicate in anticipation of another wave of passion.