Passion is part of focus. It's also a word I don't like. Feels self-indulgent. Like I'm forsaking all responsibility because I'd really just strongly prefer to do my favorite thing and let other people take care of all other realms of life. And it feels myopic. Like I've burned bridges with everything for which I can't muster a "passion." Like I'm going to remain willfully ignorant of all that does not naturally light my fire. And anyway, whenever I'm asked what I'm "passionate" about, I never seem to know, because as a part-border collie, I'm always thinking about what I'm supposed to do.
And if you're like that too, maybe it would help to consider this question: when you're not doing what you're supposed to be doing (the dishes, filing papers, weeding the flowerbed), what are you doing? If you are truly a part-border collie introvert, you are constitutionally incapable of intentionally wasting time, so I know your answer is not "I play computer games and scroll through Facebook." It's more likely "I write little haiku poems" or "I invent muffin recipes" or "I practice my violin." These are clues to the real you!! The fun, creative you! The (still-not-an-extravert) labrador side who knows how to have a good time! Some people claim to be uncreative, and I'm just not buying it. So I encourage you to take it a step further--start a "haiku-a-day" Facebook page, bake muffins for your co-workers (don't let me catch you making "chocolate chunk" muffins with bits of ExLax either...), find a jug player and somebody with a washboard who can strum along to your bluegrass rendition of Hungarian Rhapsody! You don't have to feel...you know...passionate if you don't want to. But if you happen to start making more & more time for it, so much the better. Maybe it's a plate worth spinning.
When it comes to "knowing thyself," sometimes it's easy. I have over 4455 photos on my phone. There are 4455 stored on the extra memory card, and more stored on the phone itself, plus I took more this morning. The vast (talkin' vaaaaaaaast) majority are of dogs. Well, you can see why--I mean, look above & below this post at the level of adorability that occurs in my house on a daily basis. You don't expect me to walk past that, do you??? It's an embarrassment of riches-- *IF* you are, dare I say, *passionate* about dogs. And photographs. No one ever has to bug me to take a picture of a dog. ("Did you take a picture of the dog yet?" "Um, no, I took 300 pictures of the dog.") If ever I dare to indulge in a fun activity, gleefully leaving dishes unwashed, laundry piles teetering, and supper components undefrosted, you can bet the fun activity is taking pictures of dogs. I've driven over 100 miles, one-way, to photograph dock-diving dogs. I developed a form of tennis elbow from poring over dog photos on my phone and computer (scrolling, scrolling, swiping, swiping). It kinda feels like passion. Except for my elbow. That just hurts. But I sure am having fun. And fun pretty much ALWAYS turns into artsy projects, so I'll let you know (and see) what happens! Promise me you'll make room for what makes your heart hum...you know, in case your heart is introverted too and doesn't like to sing out loud. :)