A couple of weeks ago, a team of Yale and Stanford psychologists released a paper that caused a bit of a media flurry, with headlines like “Why Finding Your Passion is Terrible Advice.” The point the researchers were trying to prove was that if people believe that they have an already-formed passion inside themselves that they just have to “find,” and then all will be blissful and easy from then on, and working on it won’t feel like work … they’ll be less likely to explore new areas, where they might actually discover or develop an unexpected passion for something outside their initial comfort zones. They’ll also be less likely to stick with anything that becomes difficult, because they expect a “passion” to be easy.
One of the co-authors of the paper is Stanford psychologist Carol Dweck, who became famous for her best-selling book Mindset. In that book, she argued that people who have a “fixed” mindset; who believe they are unable to change who and what they are—either smart or dumb, shy or outgoing, competent or incompetent at something—are less willing to risk new things, and less resilient at persevering long enough to get mastery of anything, than those with a “growth” mindset. This latest paper attempts to expand those notions to the concept of passion.
I might question whether the 126 young college students studied in the paper are really representative of the population in general, especially when the findings might correlate more strongly with naïve beliefs about life than anything else. Ditto with the study’s method, which consisted of gauging the students’ proclivity toward passion by evaluating their interest in reading two difficult academic papers, one on algorithms, and one on literary theory. I’m a very passionate person, and I also read a lot of academic papers in the course of my work. But I can honestly say I’ve never gotten “excited” or interested about a field of study from a paper I’ve read—especially one on literary theory or algorithms. I read academic papers when I have to, or because I need the knowledge, but it’s an effort.
Nevertheless, as the argument is presented, the paper’s conclusions seem not only valid, but almost self-evident. If a person believes that passion is both pre-formed and magical, it would follow that they’d see little value in exploring outside what already felt comfortable, and would be easily dissuaded from persevering on tough and unfamiliar projects or pursuits.
By the same token, if someone has a very “fixed” and rigid worldview—regardless of whether it’s because of assumptions about passion, or whether it’s due to depression, pessimism, romantic notions about life in general, rigid or religious upbringing, or any other of a dozen reasons not explored by the researchers … that would also make them less inclined to explore new possibilities than someone with an explorer’s mindset, who views each new day as a chance to discover something they didn’t previously know.
But here’s the thing. The assumptions the paper is based on don’t resonate with my knowledge or experience at all—and I’ve spent quite a lot of time researching and writing about passion. Do a significant number of people really believe that passion is so simple? That it’s the equivalent of a genie lamp hidden in an internal cave that, once uncovered in a person’s mind or heart, magically transforms everything into a fairy tale of ease? And does anyone who’s advising someone to find or follow their passion really mean for them to sit and wait for lightning to strike, without any seeking, experimentation, or exploring, or imply that the journey along a path or endeavor motivated by a passion for the goal or subject will be easy?
Color me skeptical.
I am, of course, old enough to realize that people have a lot of surprising beliefs in this world. So, yes, I’m sure there are people—especially young people like those in the study—who are naïve enough to retain overly idealized or romanticized notions of all kinds of things, from passion to love to life in general.
That is, in fact, the central point of Harvard professor Daniel Gilbert’s 2006 best-selling book Stumbling On Happiness. The reason humans are so abominably bad at predicting what will make us happy in the future, Gilbert explains, is that we often imagine or fantasize about the future in ways that aren’t realistic. So if a person had no experience whatsoever with relationships, for example, they might imagine that a relationship (marriage, children, money, fill in the blank here…) would be all happy, all the time, or would cure all that ails them.
People who’ve been married, or have been in long-term relationships, or have been parents, or have had money, of course, do not harbor those illusions. They know better. And I think it’s fair to say that most people advising others to find or follow their passions have most likely felt passion for a path, goal, cause, activity or career, sometime in their lives. So they, too, know better. And to give them a little credit, I think they probably convey some of that hard-won knowledge about passion to the people they’re advising to seek, heed, or follow it.
Passion is a complex motivation and feeling. So complex, in fact, that it often gets misunderstood—a subject I’ve written about here), before. The best definition of passion I’ve ever found comes from an entrepreneur I got to know in Silicon Valley, who said that passion is an internal fire. And the fire of passion is lit when a person has an experience that sparks a vision of something other than what is, but what could be … a vision that resonates with some important value the person holds, deep within. And because the vision resonates with something that matters greatly to that person, it becomes “the idea that won’t let go.”
That vision becomes the fuel for a motivational fire that keeps a person up at night looking for ways forward; that motivates them to persevere against daunting odds and obstacles, find impossibly creative solutions, and inspires them to recruit others to the effort, because the alternative is to let that vision die. And if the vision matters, that outcome is unacceptable. That is the motivational force that passion grants a person.
Over time, a passion can certainly “develop,” deepen, or grow. It can also die, if the costs become too high, or if new experiences or information make the goal less important. But—and this piece is key—nobody who’s ever walked that road would ever say it was easy. It’s just possible, because the effort is fueled by a genuine passion about its importance. The link between passion and perseverance is so strong, in fact, that some educators I interviewed for my recent book about authenticity and voice argued that a person couldn’t even know if they really felt passion for something until they ran into a substantial obstacle or conflict blocking them from it. If a person gave up when the goal got difficult, it meant that what they felt was not passion. It might have been an idealized, imagined idea about what they liked or wanted, or an interest that wasn’t actually that strong, when push came to shove. But it wasn’t passion. If, on the other hand, they decided to press on anyway, come hell or high water, that’s when interest transformed into, or crystalized as, the determined, unstoppable fire known as passion.
I don’t know what’s going on in the heads of all the commencement speakers and advisors in the world. But I would bet good money that they’re not advocating passion because it’s easy or effortless. It’s because following a path motivated by a sincere passion is so rewarding, and can have such a transformational impact on the person pursuing it, as well as on the world around them. It’s like parenting. Few parents would encourage others to have children because it’s easy. If they are such strong advocates for the experience, it’s because it’s rewarding. And easy and rewarding are two completely different scales.
Many, many studies underscore the fact that, as humans, we need meaning, and crave impact. And it’s easier to persevere in pursuits that will have that impact, and give us that sense of meaning, if we’re motivated by passion for the goals or causes involved. It’s also easier to bring our best to a career path if we believe that it matters, and if it resonates with traits that feel “authentic” and central to who we are, because then the effort, while still demanding a sometimes-exhausting level of effort, resilience, and dedication from us, also feeds our hearts and souls and brings us joy.
There is a school of thought out there that says we can develop passion for anyone, or anything, once we commit to that path. I heartily disagree. I will never ever develop a passion for being a surgeon, or an accountant, or any one of a host of paths that don’t resonate with the unique characteristics and values that comprise the person I am. I could gain some level of mastery, and some kind of satisfaction out of a job well done. But that’s not passion.
Having said that, there are still a host of other paths, other than the ones I’ve chosen to pursue, that might also feed the same inclinations, values, and needs within me. The key is figuring out what your corepassions, values, or needs really are. For me—at least in a career sense—that’s exploring the world and making a difference in how people think, understand, or experience life. Writing does that, but so could working for a number of different organizations. Teaching or research might do it, as well.
But in the debate over whether passion is “found” or developed, I would answer: it is both. There is an element to passion that involves “finding” pursuits, career paths, activities or places that resonate with important elements or values inside of us. That’s not something we can predict or know in advance. We know resonance when we feel it; when we experience something and it vibrates with something we might not have even known we were, or that mattered to us, inside.
Of course, in order to discover anything, one has to explore. So a big piece of “finding” one’s passions is exploring as many new experiences as possible. What’s more, even when that resonance is discovered or felt, it’s still only the first step. That spark is a wake-up call that gets our attention. From there, we have to conjure up a meaningful vision of where that resonance could take us. And then we have to commit to action; to pursuing that passion. That pursuit may change or evolve, over time, and it will undoubtedly involve sacrifice, effort, and perseverance through dark times, setbacks, and challenges. But it also holds the potential of allowing us to create a life that feels authentic, fulfilling, and meaningful.
So when people who’ve known passion advise others to “find” their passion, what they’re really doing is advising those people to seek and find things that resonate with elements and values that matter to them, at their core. And when they advise others to follow their passion, they’re alluding to the second part of the equation: formulating a vision of what to do with that spark, and then pursuing that vision wherever it leads. And again: nobody who’s known the joy and trials of a passionate pursuit would ever describe pursuing a passion as easy. Worthwhile? Sure. Rewarding. Meaningful. Fulfilling. But easy? Not by a long, long shot.
How do I know that? Because what’s easy is following the clearly-marked and already-paved path; the status quo. And passion is about pursuing a vision of something other than what is. And that means stepping off the well-marked path and creating something new in the world, whether that something is a child, a business, a piece of art, a kind of social change, a rewarding career path, or an authentic and fulfilling life.
Consider this: If finding and pursuing a passion led to an easy, magical path, nobody would waste words in a commencement speech exhorting graduates to do it. You don’t have to exhort anyone to take an easy, magical, guaranteed-happy road. That’s the default. The reason so many commencement speakers with hard-won life wisdom stress the value of finding and pursuing passion is precisely because it isso hard, and the alternative, safer paths are so much easier. So they’re encouraging students to persevere through the difficulties, and endure the inherent risks involved in figuring out what really resonates with them, and then find a way to pursue those activities or interests in the world. Not because it’ll be easy, but because the potential rewards of that effort and perseverance are so great.
Finding—and following—your passions is not terrible advice. It’s hard advice. But it’s also important advice, even if it’s often misunderstood.
