Enthusiasm

Enthusiasm is a breath from within, a spark that, once lit, makes each step feel lighter. It cannot be explained, only felt — like a wind that sweeps away the dust of monotony and makes space for the quiet brilliance of ordinary things.

Motivation is something else entirely. It comes and goes, a fleeting impulse dependent on something outside of us. A desire, a promise, a goal to be reached. But without enthusiasm, motivation tires. And what tires too much, eventually gives up.

Disinterest, on the other hand, is a dead weight. An emptiness at the centre of the chest where nothing grows. Life passes by, and one merely observes, without the will to reach out and touch it. The body senses it: shoulders sag, the gaze loses its light, breathing becomes shallow. Energy stagnates, time drags on, and everything feels like an unnecessary effort.

But enthusiasm — ah, enthusiasm! — it has roots of its own. It needs no applause, no encouragement, no reward. It arises when we find meaning in the smallest of things, when we sense something calling us without knowing why. Enthusiasm gives courage, puts light in the eyes, sharpens the awareness of what truly matters.

In healing, in work, in the quiet unfolding of days, it is the hidden key. Patients with enthusiasm recover more quickly. Lives lived with enthusiasm feel lighter. Because enthusiasm does not deny challenges; it dances with them, finds a rhythm, and moves forward.

And if it is missing? Then it must be sought — not with desperation, but with gentleness. As one might learn again to see the world, to feel the body, to listen to the silence without rush. For enthusiasm, when it returns, does not announce itself. It simply takes over.