What is passion?
I guess we all will have different perspectives on it—yes, definitely.
For some, passion is something they are consistent with. For some, it’s something they are good at. And for some, it’s just that one thing they keep coming back to, no matter how many times they drift away.
I personally write a lot—whether it’s journaling, blogging, or articles… and it feels nice. It feels like letting go of things, or sometimes just structuring the thoughts I have in my mind. There are days when everything feels too loud internally, and writing becomes that quiet space where things start making sense again.
When I write, I’m probably not thinking if anyone is going to read it. I’m writing it for myself. Maybe I’ll read it in the future and get impressed with the thoughts I once had… or maybe I’ll just smile at how I was feeling at that moment. Either way, it becomes a record of me—unfiltered, unedited, real.
Oh yes, I think lately my blogs have become a place for my emotional journaling… a space where I don’t have to organise my feelings too much before putting them out. And yeah, I’m also planning to make a video format of the same—just another way of expressing, not necessarily performing.
And if someone is reading it—am I giving too much information to people? No, absolutely not. Because I personally do a lot of comfort reading, whether it’s books or blogs—something that feels easy, something that feels relatable, something that makes you feel a little less alone. That’s the kind of space I want to create too—not perfect, just honest.
But maybe yes, sometimes I do feel the pressure of getting something out of it… or monetising this passion of mine. Sometimes it gets a little too loud in my head—am I doing the right things? Is there a path I’m supposed to follow? Is there a timeline, a growth graph, a strategy behind all of this? Are we supposed to turn everything we love into something that earns, at the end of the day?
Because that’s what we see around us now, right? Everything has to lead somewhere. Everything has to scale, grow, convert, monetise. Passion is no longer just something you do—it’s something you’re expected to build into something bigger. And slowly, without even realising it, we start measuring our joy in numbers.
I have seen people doing gardening with so much passion, or someone talking endlessly about a topic they love—completely lost in it… not for an audience, not for validation, just because it makes them feel alive. I’ve seen people cook, paint, write, sing—not because they have to, but because they want to.
Are they making money out of it? Probably no.
But there is so much satisfaction in the way they do it. There’s a calmness, a fullness that doesn’t come from outcomes, but from the act itself.
So I guess, not everything sacred needs a price tag.
Because the moment passion becomes pressure, it slowly starts losing its softness. It stops being something you run towards, and starts feeling like something you owe. You begin to measure it—how often you show up, how much you produce, how good it looks, how many people engage with it, how much it earns.
And somewhere in that constant evaluation, it forgets how to just exist. It forgets how to breathe.
You no longer sit with it in stillness—you chase it with expectations. You don’t create because you feel like it—you create because you feel like you should. And that subtle shift… changes everything.
Maybe that’s where we need to pause.
To remind ourselves why we started in the first place.
Monetisation isn’t wrong… turning your passion into something sustainable isn’t wrong… but it shouldn’t be compulsory.
Some things are meant to stay yours.
Unmeasured, unpressured, and untouched by the need to prove anything.
Anindita Rath
@scrambledwriter
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