I was reading at book the other day in which the heroine was comparing herself with a friend, she being the passionate one and her friend the passive one. And she mused, "like the Latin root passio - to suffer, we both do."
From my perspective, passivity always brings suffering, but I had never really thought about it that passion does too. When we care too deeply about a book, a piece of art, a musical work, a lover, a child, a friend, a spouse, an ambition, that pictures are hanging straight, a career, we are going to suffer when it's slighted, denigrated, destroyed, betrayed, ridiculed. When you wear your heart on your sleeve it's going to get snagged. When you bury it, it's going to strangle.
Casual affection, anyone?
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