Passion Check

Once passion is ignited, it can be difficult to rein it in. It has a tendency to run wild, sometimes faster than our reasoning can keep up. Yet despite the risks, passion is essential. We all need something in life that lights us up. Some people have more than one passion; others struggle to find even one. But to have none at all suggests that we have never truly felt the magic in what we do—and if that is the case, it may be time to move on.

Suppressed passion cannot produce anything extraordinary, valuable, or enduring. There is no alchemy without passion, no magic without love for the task at hand. A love story without passion would be painfully dull. Passion is what transforms the ordinary into the extraordinary. It fuels desire, commitment, and perseverance—sometimes at any cost. And that is where the danger lies. When does passion cross the line and begin to control us?

This is a good moment to pause and ask ourselves where our passions lie, and whether they are in balance. When we examine the word “passion” more closely, we discover its paradoxical nature. In Greek, it means “to suffer,” and in Latin, it is also associated with suffering. So the question becomes: are our passions enriching our lives—or are they causing suffering, for ourselves or for others?

I was once deeply struck by an episode of Grand Designs, one that remains etched in my memory. Kevin McCloud opened the episode with a warning: “Beware of that lighthouse. It shouts ‘stay away,’ or risk destruction.” It was a fitting introduction to the story that followed.

A man named Edward moved to North Devon to build his dream lighthouse on a crumbling seaside cliff. The views were breathtaking, and the house, he believed, had to be just as dramatic. He poured his love, identity, and passion into the project. The build was complex and required specialised mining machinery. Costs spiralled from £1.8 million to £3 million, with another £3 million needed to complete it.

Eight years later, the episode ended with an unfinished concrete skeleton, a broken marriage, and millions in debt. Edward’s final words were haunting:

“Guilt, ambition, and vanity have collapsed my marriage.”

His passion came at a price—one far too high. His calculations had not accounted for the emotional toll on his wife and family. What lingered most was not just the failed build, but the regret of a man who realised too late that his passion had blinded him. He felt he had gone too far to turn back, yet when the stakes are that high, it is never truly too late to change course.

This is why we must question the source of our passion and the motivation behind it. When passion is fueled by ego, status, or the need to outdo others, it becomes dangerous. Ego does not listen to reason.

Healthy passion is a journey, not a destination defined solely by outcomes. It requires regular reflection. Where is this passion leading me? What am I sacrificing along the way? Has ego quietly taken the driver’s seat? When the balance feels off, the bravest act may be to pause, recalibrate, or change direction—before life begins to resemble that lighthouse.

But if obsessive passion can destroy us, what happens when we suppress our passions altogether? What is the cost of not following what truly matters to us?

In The Element, author and educationalist Sir Ken Robinson explores the importance of discovering and honoring our passions. He describes “the Element” as the point where natural talent meets personal passion. It has two key features—passion and aptitude—and two essential conditions: attitude and opportunity.

Finding your Element is not always easy. It can bring conflict, self-doubt, and temporary unhappiness. You may disappoint others along the way. But Robinson argues that, in the long run, the difference between living in or out of your Element is often the difference between happiness and unhappiness. Still, that line is fine. Passion, for all its power, is vulnerable—and it doesn’t take much for it to tip.

Reflecting again on the lighthouse story, aptitude was notably absent. Edward was not a builder; he relied entirely on professionals. Nor were the conditions right. His attitude was rigid and unyielding. He admitted that compromising would have been sensible, but he could not bring himself to do it. Logic and reality were resisted, and obsessive passion blurred his judgement.

Opportunity was also lacking. The project relied on a fragile chain of conditions—building and selling a second house to fund the lighthouse—yet the site was deemed unlivable, making the plan unworkable. Eight years later, the dream remained unfinished. In my view, this was a passion not worth pursuing.

When passion becomes obsessive, it undergoes a subtle transformation. It turns into ego. The process no longer brings joy; only the outcome matters. The reward at the end becomes the carrot that drives behaviour, triggering dopamine responses that make passion addictive rather than fulfilling.

Passion can be a powerful ally. It sharpens focus and fuels motivation through dopamine and oxytocin—essential chemicals for creativity and success. But that same chemistry is what makes passion difficult to control. Whether it is love, work, money, achievement, or adventure, unchecked passion can distort priorities and harm the people we love—or ourselves.

Too little passion, and we stagnate. Too much, and we risk losing everything.

The challenge is not to extinguish passion, but to hold it with awareness—so it enriches our lives rather than consumes them.