Why evolving passions are a feature, not a flaw
The Fear of Changing Course
Many of us secretly worry that shifting interests means we lack seriousness. If we loved something once, shouldn’t we love it forever? Isn’t consistency the mark of a steady character?
But life isn’t a courtroom where past testimony binds us forever. It’s a living story, always being revised. To change fascinations is not betrayal. It’s an honest response to growth.
The Garden in Seasons
Think of your life as a garden. Spring invites planting, summer nurtures, autumn ripens, winter rests. Different fascinations belong to different seasons.
At twenty, you may be fascinated by performance, music, stage lights. At forty, you may be captivated by gardening, the miracle of soil and seed. Neither cancels the other. Both were true, in their time.
The garden isn’t less authentic because flowers change. It’s alive because they do.
Why We Cling
So why do we fear letting go?
- Identity attachment. “I’m the kind of person who…” becomes hard to release.
- Pride. We don’t want to admit our old passion cooled.
- Audience expectation. Others prefer the older version of us.
- Sunk cost. Years invested feel like handcuffs.
But clinging out of fear leads to stagnation. What once nourished us begins to drain us when we stay too long.
The Violinist’s Story
A young woman trains for years as a violinist. By thirty, she feels the spark dim. Practice is obligation, not joy. At first, she hides it. How could she admit that her identity as “the violinist” no longer fits?
Eventually, she lets herself follow a new fascination: architecture. Friends are surprised. Some disapprove. But she feels alive again, sketching buildings, studying design.
Was her time with the violin wasted? Not at all. It trained her discipline, gave her beauty, shaped her soul. That chapter lives inside her still. But her story has turned a page.
Mortality’s Reminder
Our time is short. If we only allow ourselves one fascination for life, we shrink the banquet. Mortality says: better to taste many dishes than to starve clinging to one plate long after you’re hungry.
Changing fascinations doesn’t dishonor the past. It honors the present.
Practices for Healthy Change
- Bless the old. Instead of resenting past passions, thank them for what they gave you.
- Name the new. Say aloud what excites you now, even if it feels small.
- Experiment gently. Don’t burn bridges overnight. Test the new interest with small steps.
- Communicate honestly. Tell close friends or partners, “I’m drawn to this now.” Let them adjust to your shift.
- Release guilt. Remember: evolution is not flakiness. It’s fidelity to truth.
The Scene of a Traveler
Picture a traveler on a long journey. Early on, he loves rivers. He spends weeks following their bends. Later, he turns toward mountains, climbing ridges, seeking vistas. Eventually, deserts call — austere, immense.
Is he inconsistent? No. He is alive to the terrain. His story is richer because he didn’t freeze at the first fascination.
So it is with us. Rivers, mountains, deserts — each season of fascination is part of our map.
A Note on Responsibility
Of course, we can’t abandon every commitment the moment boredom strikes. Children, promises, projects matter. Changing fascinations doesn’t mean discarding responsibility. It means integrating reality with honesty — finding ways to honor commitments while giving new curiosities room to breathe.
Closing Thought
Fascinations are not contracts. They are invitations. Some last a lifetime. Others do their work in a season and then release us.
Don’t mourn their passing. Don’t shame their change. Thank them, bless them, and follow the next pull.
Because when fascinations change, it doesn’t mean you’ve lost yourself. It means you’re still becoming. You’re still alive.
