How I Fell in Love with My Passion
It All Started with a Tidepool
They say the best love stories begin in the most unexpected places, but mine kicked off in a tidepool. Not exactly your classic "meet-cute," I admit—there were no violins playing, no dramatic looks exchanged. Just a stubborn ten-year-old (me) crouching on a rocky Bar Harbor shore, determined to figure out what made the crabs scuttle so quickly when I approached. The world was alive there, teeming with tiny creatures I didn’t yet understand, and I was determined to uncover their secrets.
Looking back, that tidepool wasn’t just my first glimpse into marine ecosystems; it was also my earliest lesson in paying deep attention—the kind that makes you fall in love. And as with any great romance, I didn’t realize what was happening until I was in too far to turn back. Those moments of curiosity turned into long days exploring Acadia National Park with a notebook, sketching moss-covered rocks and writing grand (and not-so-good) odes to seagulls. What can I say? Passion has a way of making even scavenger birds look poetic.
What Romancing Nature Taught Me About Real Relationships
Falling in love with nature isn’t all sunsets and picturesque vistas. Sure, growing up with a national park in my backyard meant I had my pick of postcard-perfect views. But passion deepens when you embrace the imperfect, gritty details. Anyone who’s tried hiking along Maine’s rocky coastline in soggy boots knows exactly what I’m talking about. The terrain is unforgiving—one wrong step and you’re sliding down a granite incline with a bruised ego to match. But that’s kind of the whole point. It’s in the messy, unglamorous moments that nature teaches you resilience and respect. Relationships, I’ve found, are much the same.
When you’re cozied up in your honeymoon phase, everything’s shiny and romantic. But life eventually throws a metaphorical thunderstorm—or in my case, a full day of downpour that soaks through your supposedly waterproof jacket (spoiler alert: it wasn’t waterproof). Learning to navigate those metaphorical storms with patience and curiosity—whether it’s a partner’s quirks or a literal gale-force wind—is part of the joy.
Practical takeaway? Don’t set out expecting the path (or the person) to be perfect. Sometimes, the best connections are forged when you accidentally step into the muddiest parts of them.
Falling for Me First
Before I could really fall in love with anything—or anyone—outside myself, I had to get comfortable with the quiet. From a young age, Acadia taught me that solitude isn’t something to fear. Walking trails alone feels less like being lonely and more like sinking into your favorite book: time vanishes, and you’re completely engrossed. My early explorations of those quiet woods fueled my passion for writing, but they also taught me that self-awareness is the foundation for every meaningful relationship, romantic or otherwise.
In modern life, where pings and notifications constantly compete for our time, learning to appreciate silence is like discovering a secret superpower. It’s in these moments of quiet that we figure out what really makes us tick. Who are you when no one else is watching? What excites you? What drains you? My time in the woods gave me the confidence to explore these questions (and, yes, cry dramatically when my teenage heart was broken—not my finest hours).
So, here’s a little advice for the romantically inclined: spend some time stripped of distractions. Get outside. Be still. You might be surprised by what bubbles to the surface.
The Non-Negotiables of Passion and Partnership
When my parents weren’t gently nudging me off to the tidal flats, they were modeling a valuable lesson: great love, whether for a person or a pursuit, requires a solid foundation. My dad, ever the patient park ranger, treated each patch of forest as sacred, and my mom made every B&B meal an act of hospitality, bringing strangers together at a shared table.
That idea stuck with me. True passion isn’t fleeting. It’s consistent. And, much like a good relationship, it thrives when you commit to the non-negotiables—those guiding principles that define how you live and love. My non-negotiable? Respecting the process. Whether I’m walking a new trail, diving into a writing project, or building a friendship, I’m in for the long haul. I won’t rush past the learning curve or skip the “awkward getting-to-know-you” phase (both for people and prose).
Want your romantic life to reflect your passions? Start by figuring out your relationship non-negotiables:
- What values matter most to you?
- What gives you energy, even when it feels hard?
- Can you stick it out when the trail gets rocky?
Spoiler: You can, and it’s worth it.
Nurturing What You Love
These days, my mornings tend to start with coffee and long glances out the window at the shoreline, where spruce trees meet the crash of the Atlantic. I still write about Maine, about the tidal rhythms I can’t seem to shake—or maybe they can’t seem to shake me. These patterns feel as much a part of me as the freckles on my face. And while that feels romantic in its own way, living out your passion is less about big, Instagram-worthy moments and more about showing up every day to gently nurture what you love.
A good example? Think of caring for a plant (you know, the one you swore wouldn’t die this time). Healthy passion is slow and steady. It requires consistent effort and a willingness to adapt when something’s not working. Much like my beloved Maine tidepools, passion is delicate—snails retreat, moss shrivels when handled roughly. So handle it all gently, and don’t expect immediate returns. Anything worth loving takes time.
Some Takeaway Tips Worth Trying
To fall in love with your passion—or rekindle the romance with it—here are a few ideas to incorporate into routine:
1. Default to Curiosity: Whether it’s a tidepool or a new hobby, approach with the eagerness of a kid poking seaweed for the first time. Forget perfect results and relish the process.
2. Find a Rhythm, Not a Roll: Love isn’t about soaring highs; it’s about steady, grounding beats. If your passion feels lost, commit to small, regular practices, like journaling ten minutes a day or walking the same trail weekly.
3. Make Space for Solitude: Step away from the noise. Leave your phone behind on your next walk. You’ll be amazed what clarity lies in five earbuds-free minutes.
4. Embrace the Imperfect: Not every day will feel like fireworks. Flirt with failure; laugh at awkward beginnings. Let the stumbles shape the story.
Full Circle—Or, How Passion Continues to Grow
When I tell people I fell in love with my passion as a stubborn kid in tidepools, they assume I’ve always known exactly what I wanted to do with my life. But the truth? Passion is more about growth than visions of grandeur. It sneaks up on you, like the soft crash of Maine waves pulling at the shore. My writing weaves between nature, relationships, and conservation because it mirrors how passion has always shown up for me—in small, interconnected ways.
Whatever pursuit or relationship drives you, lean into it wholeheartedly. Like granite cliffs enduring Atlantic winds, a passion worth having is one worth tending, even through the storms. So grab the metaphorical soggy boots (or just the tools you need for your next adventure) and keep showing up. Trust me: you’ll be pleasantly surprised at where it takes you.
