“The only way to do great work is to love what you do?”

It was a calm Sunday evening, and I had just wrapped up my exhausting math worksheet on conics while complaining about how useless this concept was. My mom interrupted my flow by hollering my name, leaving me to think about the words, “I need to talk to you.” Puzzled by this urgency, I stomped my feet — fatigued — and immediately plopped onto the couch. This was just two months into the start of the pandemic — the first pandemic that our generation was truly impacted — , a time in which schools were immediately challenged to shift work from in-person to online. But there was an opportunity to make the most of this blessing in disguise, so I was curious to know what my parents were going to ask. Was it a corny pep-talk about the pandemic, I thought in hesitance.

Instead, my mom asked me something that would influence the rest of my trajectory throughout high school: “So, what do you want to do in the future?”

I slightly winced then raised my eyebrows immediately startled by this question. Here I was, a first-year high school student still navigating the abyss and uncertainty brought by the pandemic, trying to maintain my grades, and priding myself on the goal of attending a top-notch university. I was so ingrained in keeping my academics intact that my mom’s seemingly-simple question literally dumbfounded me.

“I don’t know,” I stuttered.

“Ok, tell me what you are passionate about?”

“Uh…”

I was stumped. Frozen. Clueless. What was I passionate about? Well, I really liked sports — I was a diehard Chicago Bears and Bulls fan. But I didn’t even play sports; I just watched them on TV instead. I really liked going outside and biking — 30-mile bike rides were breezes for me. But the prospect of being a professional cyclist seemed to be a waste of my fierce focus on academics. On a more realistic note, I was quite compelled by the idea of studying a more practical, relevant field in the industry — something STEM-based — as I was fascinated by its lucrative potential and significance to society during a revolutionary time. I had an interest, but not a fervent passion in computer science as I did in watching the NFL and NBA, and I experienced this slight force from parents and friends to lean away from sports and pursue something as applicable as computer science. Especially coming to high school from a STEM school, I felt inclined to pick something STEM-related, and while I was confident about the future impacts of this rising field, I was unsure whether my interest would be sustainable for future years. Yet, I have seen all my family friends and relatives prosper in affluent careers — working in business, technology, and medicine — and I sensed a bit of invisible pressure in aligning my future to match their footsteps. My dilemma soon turned into a tug-of-war in all directions.

Ever since that seemingly pointless but poignant conversation, I was on a journey with one mission: to narrow down what I wanted to do in the future. Although the pandemic confined us to our rooms, I realized that there were opportunities on the web, and all it took was some brainpower and motivation to harness the potential of these opportunities. So I capitalized on my intellectual curiosity by attempting a few computer and data science courses on edX, probing into my dad’s remote work-life as the pandemic ensued, and spamming various computer science undergraduate programs on Google and unfortunately wasted time predicting their difficulty — that while assuming I would get in. My curiosity even ignited an entrepreneurial fire in me as I created an initiative called Open Gears with the intent of hosting webinars with college students and professionals so they can open up about their experiences in their fields and share unique insights. My initiative created a huge impact on many local students, as I posted my recordings on YouTube and provided anxious families with authentic first-hand experiences to ease their doubts. But through the webinars I hosted with computer science students, chemical engineers, pharmacists, dentists, and many more, I gained so much unique insight into a variety of careers that it made my dilemma even more complex than it needed to be. I felt almost as if listening to each webinar lured my malleable interests in a different direction. Nevertheless, I was driven to dig into who I am and what I wanted to do. But, no matter my compelled desire to learn, I still contemplated my true passions. What am I really passionate about, I would always whine. I didn’t want to associate myself with nontechnical fields like sports because I was just a mere follower of sports and because of a fear of not feeling accepted — so I continued to probe into other areas of interest.

As someone of Indian origin, I was naturally thrust into the race of getting into a top college; peer pressure from Asian friends of mine would always slither to threaten my self-perception and degrade my confidence. The bombardment of the college admission saga of trying to plan your identity and find your passions for the sake of conveying them to admission counselors has been intensified throughout the pandemic; the decreased consideration of standardized test scores, for instance, has forced us to draw more attention to our personality. Although this introspection is, perhaps, sometimes beneficial, we struggle in finding the right balance between the external desires of others and our genuine passions. Furthermore, we fall into the rabbit hole of establishing what we want to pursue and then specifying what we want to pursue. The career options that life throws at us only aim to complicate this paradox of choice. My parents, who somewhat thrust this pressure upon me, constantly urge me to do what I love. But, as we navigate an ever-changing world, is there any purpose or advantage in doing what we are genuinely passionate about? When seniors and college underclassmen contemplate their majors, is it really imperative to follow their passions? Does passion correlate with success? And what if you simply don’t have a passion? As a junior right now in high school being the first in my family to apply to college in the United States, the intensity of admissions has only become near-traumatic for me, so I decided to go on a quest to find the extent to which our passion should drive our motives.

Passion — which, by Merriam Webster, is defined as “a strong liking or desire for or devotion to some activity, object, or concept” — is a word we constantly encounter as we grow over time (“Merriam-Webster Dictionary”). Steve Jobs, the visionary behind Apple, declared in his famous 2005 Stanford Commencement address that “the only way to do great work is to love what you do.” (University). When I watched his speech as a middle-school student seeking motivation, I was struck by these words. The idea of not wasting your life on things you don’t like resonated with me, and I instantly thought there was significance in identifying your passions at a young age. There is no doubt that pursuing a passion can lead to a greater sense of fulfillment and happiness. A 2018 New York Times article written by Lizz Schumer — a writer and educator from Buffalo, NY — echoes Job’s sentiment; she cites a 2015 study by The Annals of Behavioral Medicine, stating that “pursuing your passion lowers stress and contributes to greater happiness overall.” (“Why Following Your Passions Is Good for You (and How to Get Started) (Published 2018)”). By nature, we are so accustomed to juggling a multitude of tasks life throws at us. We look up to our parents and guardians as they deal with staying productive at work and meeting their mortgage obligations, while we deal with excelling in school and balancing our emotional and intellectual needs simultaneously; at the core of this, we end up neglecting time for ourselves. Passions enable us to make our life worthwhile; we can indulge in what makes us happy and distance ourselves from the paramount complexities of life. So, if life allowed us to explore our passions to the fullest extent, then we all would probably aspire to be TikTokers, video gamers, athletes — whatever we wanted to be as children, right?

As much as I wish this was true, the answer is a complicated no. The intricacy of life transcends our intrinsic passions, and there are numerous factors that affect our choices and often detract us from our true desires. It is human nature to crave respect and to attain high status, for example, and this heavily applies to many high school students — like me. As someone whose parents immigrated from competitive environments in India, I have always been urged to seek career opportunities beyond our youthful hobbies, especially since my parents work in rising industries and they want me to pursue a similar, or a better, path. Thus, I have always looked up to pursuing a career in technology, like my dad who is in information technology, even though my intrinsic interests may not yield future opportunities. There is a quandary to this, however: why do we have to follow our parents? Why do our heritage and culture have to influence our choices?

In April 2019, USC student Katie Kim synthesized surveys she conducted of her Asian friends in college regarding Asian career stereotypes, specifically the idea that “if you’re Asian, you have to become a doctor, lawyer, or engineer.” (“LinkedIn”). Then, she compiled and shared the voices of her friends on a LinkedIn post. One student confessed that “sometimes I have doubts because chasing a dream-like making video games sounds childish in a way.” Another student shared a similar viewpoint through a different lens, stating that “my pediatrician mom equates happiness to being comfortable in life and being comfortable means having money.” Stereotypes founded on the idea of money over true joy motivate us to do things we have a somewhat 70% or 80% interest in — but not a full 100% interest. Many of us often cling to stereotypes brought to us by parents because we fear being shamed due to our childish interests. The competitive aspect of being the best fuels a lot of our decisions as well, justifying why we do things “for a resume.” Volunteering, for example, is seen as an important aspect that admission officers assess when evaluating students, therefore fueling the number of students that engage in community service. However, there is a debate about the extent to which community service done by high school students is actually genuine. Ultimately, we desire to be well-known, applauded, attached to a popular brand, and respected by others as the “model students.” We want to cherish the fever encompassing us when we get accepted into an Ivy League, and by aligning our future paths based on the interests imposed on us, we assume that respect will naturally bless us. Yet, we still seek a sign of respect even as we battle trying to make a living off of something we aren’t passionate about.
When we feel constantly pressured to do things we don’t have an authentic passion for — and we lament —, we fall prey to a dangerous idea called escalation of commitment. As described by organization psychologist Adam Grant of the Wharton School of Business in his 2021 bestselling book Think Again, “when we dedicate ourselves to a plan and it isn’t going as we hoped, our first instinct isn’t usually to rethink it.” (Grant 229). We then decide to escalate our commitment — even though nothing goes in our way — drilling us down into the ground with frustration and despair despite our so-called rational optimism. This phenomenon stems from a young age and is the root of why most people stick to their jobs even with low satisfaction. The ominous burden placed on us to choose and follow our passions at such a young age leaves us in a pile of stress and fear of the world ending if we choose an alternative path. And if we can’t decide our passion, we have others choose for us, yet we suffer in demise and hatred within that very alternative path.
I know you may feel frightened, but don’t worry: there is a silver lining to this dilemma.

In order to unravel this silver lining, we need to understand the idea of passion further by diving passion into two main categories of passion: obsessive and harmonious. Professor Robert J. Vallerand of the Université du Québec à Montréal led a study titled The role of passion in sustainable psychological well-being to investigate the types of passion in 2012 (Vallerand). People with an obsessive passion, according to his study, “cannot help but engage in the passionate activity leading to rigid persistence toward the activity.” In other words, obsessive passions control the person — literally — and result in negative, regrettable outcomes. Obsessive passions are held amongst those who feel compelled to be passionate for someone else, just like falling prey to the escalation of commitment. It is analogous to the idea of trying to persevere through a computer science class since you’re pressured to pursue computer science in the future without any authentic motivation. On the other hand, people with a harmonious passion have more control over their passions, as “the activity occupies a significant but not overpowering space in the person’s identity and is in harmony with other aspects of the person’s life.” When people have a true innate desire for their activity, they can manage their passion with flexibility and have the courage to explore other realms of interest without neglecting their confidence. The bottom line, according to Professor Vallerand: “being passionate toward a given activity will lead the person to engage in the activity frequently, often over several years and sometimes a lifetime.” However, having a harmonious passion is much more advantageous to your health compared to kindling an obsessive passion. This breakdown is imperative to note; I see many high school students — sometimes myself included — attempt to pursue some area of interest without having an intrinsic desire due to interpersonal pressure, so they obsess over trying to develop that passion to the extent of degrading their health and diminishing their confidence. Rather, we need a mindset switch; we need to strive to become adaptable and to realize that if something isn’t working, we need to think again and move forward with something new, especially if we’re undecided. Surprisingly, an Arizona State University Adulting article titled “When you’re thinking (and rethinking) about your major” justifies the study’s conclusion of the value of a harmonious passion, stating that approximately “only 27 percent of those who hold a bachelor’s degree are working in a career that is closely related to their major.” (“When You’re Thinking (and Rethinking) about Your Major”). It indeed takes time to figure out what exactly you want to do, and by being patient and open to possibilities, you can fulfill your ultimate goals. But what do you do if you are so fervently passionate about what you are doing that you want to go forth in pursuing it, forever and ever?

It’s important to debunk a common misconception at this point: many people assume that constantly pursuing our passion makes us happier — but not exactly. To expand on this point, Jon Jachimowicz, a renowned professor of business administration at Harvard Business School, and Dr. Lauren C. Howe of the University of Zurich state in a 2021 Harvard Business Review article that “transforming hobbies into work could undermine your enjoyment of these activities, as your interest gets sapped by the pursuit of external rewards like compensation.” (“Choosing Between Making Money and Doing What You Love”). And after reading this article, I found this to be very insightful; being passionate fuels the Dunning-Kruger effect, a cognitive bias in which we tend to overestimate our ability and knowledge — particularly when we actually have limited knowledge. As we indulge in our passions over time, we tend to be overconfident and believe that our love for the activity makes us more capable and superior to others; as a result, we seek external benefits like a raise in salary, which, if not attained, discourage us. Yes, we may feel energized, but it is just a short-term jolt of joy. Jachimowicz further elaborates on this thought in a separate 2019 Harvard Business Review article that our passions we assume to be long-term tend to be short-term, due to the idea that “our happiness slowly fades as our work becomes repetitive.” (“3 Reasons It’s So Hard to “Follow Your Passion””). Although it took me time to really understand why this is the case, it actually makes sense; it’s instinctive to explore our surroundings, and when we are so determined to employ our passions at the forefront of our work, we will eventually get bored and lose our passion. The passions we hold, therefore, tend not to be sustainable and lead us astray into the wilderness. Unless you are superhuman, it’s virtually not possible to constantly bang your eyes into the screen and play video games or endlessly film TikToks. There is another concept that does not hold true: we think that our passions yield substantial amounts of money — but it does not. You may love baking cookies, but your love may not necessarily translate into viable skills that are seen as lucrative in the job market. Skills are one side of the coin, and passion is the other. Although it was hard to digest this concept for me personally, the salient difference between skills and passions is why we need to rethink our passions and our futures differently. After all, there is an apparent need for flexibility, not duplication.

There are a few profound steps we can take to draw the right balance between our desires and interests. Through this investigation, I first realized that passion should be a subset of your endeavors; thus, the extent to which we should follow our passions should be considerable — because if you don’t like what you are doing, then you’re wasting time — but not dictating. The idea is to frame our mindsets toward what ideas we care about rather than what we love. Jachimowicz underscores this point, stating in his 2019 article that “focusing on what you love associates passion with what you enjoy and what makes you happy, whereas focusing on what you care about aligns passion with your values and the impact you want to have.” A Deloitte survey stresses the urgency of the issue illuminated by Jachimowicz, finding that around 13% of the United States workforce is passionate about their job (Deloitte), and while this number may seem small at first glance, 13% encompasses a significant number of workers — considering the enormous workforce that shapes our economy today. Factors like miscommunication, and a drop in engagement — partly due to the new remote work conditions fostered in a tumultuous time — have fueled the idea that the quantity of time they spend should be prioritized over the quality of work — which is heavily manipulated by their psychological attachment to their work. Again, this ties back to the escalation of commitment, and its cross with passion has ultimately stirred a revisit. In a new era filled with new challenges that involve collaboration and ingenuity at unprecedented levels, Jachimowicz’s point entirely fits into the puzzle; in fact, we can actually utilize our skills to fuel our work in areas we love — in other words, use our passions as a side hobby.

Being overly passionate about your work can be a detriment. And since that makes you overconfident and less willing to take feedback, why not make it a smaller yet critical part of your profession? If you are interested in climate change but are even more passionate about drawing and painting, why not spread awareness about climate change through your artistic prowess? Passions shouldn’t encompass the entire realm of your job; rather, your job complements your passion. Instead of encapsulating your passions with your job, your job should allow you to explore your passion on the side, or even lead you to find your true interests. Over the pandemic, I enrolled in a few online courses on “massive open online course” platforms like Coursera, edX, and Yellowbrick to dip my feet in the waters of data science — just to acquire a sense of what it is in general — , and as I reflect over the attempts I made via these platforms, I recognize the immense beauty these platforms have in allowing oneself to explore virtually any topic. Through these initiatives, we can develop skills outside of our work that can actually benefit our work while exposing us to areas of exploration. However, how do we channel our direction toward this untapped flexibility?

As a child, I always feared the idea of uncertainty; what if I didn’t know what I wanted to do? I feared the idea of applying to college as undecided, and I was sensitive to my parents’ insistence to choose a path fast. But, as I continued my quest to answer my questions, I was surprised to find that being uncertain about your future goals is more of an advantage than a disadvantage. A study titled Implicit Theories of Interest: Finding Your Passion or Developing It? brought this insight to my attention. In their fifth study as part of this experiment, they focused on determining whether a fixed mindset prevents a student’s ability to delve into other topics of interest. The study revealed that when given exposure to a difficult article, people with fixed interests seemed “to discount a newfound interest more definitively after exposure to challenging content” — as written by psychologists Dr. Carol S. Dweck and Dr. Gregory M. Walton of Stanford University along with Paul A O’Keefe, a psychologist from Yale-NUS College (O’Keefe et al.). A fixed theory entails neglecting other areas of interest while maintaining a strong motivation for one area. If you find a passion and then feel overwhelmed with the challenging concepts, you get frustrated and naturally give up. As eloquently said by the scientists, forcing people to pick a passion forces them “to put all their eggs in one basket but then to drop that basket when it becomes difficult to carry.” Whereas if you endorse a growth theory — the idea that interests are developed and that one can persevere in the midst of difficulty — , you are more realistic about your goals, so you don’t disregard things outside of your comfort zone entirely. This exactly explains why embracing an undecided major can be beneficial. Being undecided lets you dive into various studies with ease — when Arizona State University found that 73% of students end up changing their disciplines, it should not be a burden to decide what particular major you want to pursue. Life fosters adaptability, not rigidity, and we must hone in on this idea to realize that it’s ok to not even have a passion. Passions are things we create over time, not something we can find out of the marshes. Our skills are also malleable, just like our interests, so we must keep on growing and expanding our capacities, rather than firmly attaching to our fixed interests that we believe define our identity for the rest of our lives. So what’s the bottom line of all this seemingly piece of jargon?

Over the past two years, I have been quite impressed by the mindset switch I initiated ever since that very pivotal moment with my parents. I am happy to realize that life is really about learning and exploring, so after all, it’s ok to not have a set goal in mind. When I first launched my Open Gears initiative, I branded its mission to center around helping others discover their passions. But while this still holds true to some extent, exploring the realm of passion through my investigation compelled me to place the nucleus more on simply providing an authentic insight into various fields that students would not find on a lazy Google search, thus letting the students themselves side by their interests without imposing external pressure. This past summer, I inculcated a love for the sport of golf; as someone who wasn’t previously involved much in doing sports, but rather watching sports, golf felt like the perfect activity wherein I could gain great exercise, network with people, and indulge in my love of traveling. But, I don’t want to encompass my life as a dire pursuit to be the next Tiger Woods. The STEM intrigue that I have developed over the past couple of years has made me envision the vast extent to which technology is applicable. I now realize that I can fuse my interests in both fields in the future by working in computer science but in a variety of industries — particularly in sports analytics, wherein I could indulge in my football and basketball patriotism, and healthcare. My technical skills will therefore allow me to formulate my passions further without them overwhelming me.

So, when we now consider what the great Steve Jobs once proclaimed, that “the only way to do great work is to love what you do,” there is an alternative perspective to this. Let your love fuel your willingness to work, but let your skills and abilities — and even your childish interests — craft something meaningful. It’s not about “what you want to be when you grow up;” it’s too finite of a question. It’s about “how can I use my skills to support my passions in the long run.” Passion is not the make-or-break fork in the road; it’s our diverse contributions, fueled by our interests, that are more important. But in the end, let’s look back at how big life is for us.

Is it really worth fussing over a passion after all?