Passion, Pandemic, and Padel: A Journey Back to Myself ( AI improved text)

Today is the birthday of my best friend and though he’s far away, I’m honoring him with love and warm thoughts.

Just before Christmas, he flew halfway across the world to see me in Spain. With the pandemic still casting its shadow — and Omicron emerging — it became incredibly difficult for him to return to the U.S. West Coast due to travel restrictions. That, to me, is passion — not romantic passion, but a deep and unwavering commitment that moves people to act despite the odds.

I bring up passion because it’s been on my mind today.
As I was cleaning up my Twitter “Following” list, I felt an unexpected wave of nostalgia. Like when old Christmas songs suddenly transport you back in time, unfollowing certain accounts reminded me of who I was. Our interests are little breadcrumbs of our identity. Looking at mine, a stranger might guess: this person loves film, photography, writing… and maybe a bit hooked on certain (odd) celebrities, like Britney Spears and Amanda Banes.

There’s truth in that. I studied film in San Francisco, graduating in 2004 after a five-year degree. I thought I had finally found my true passion — something that even overtook my earlier love for graphic design. And for about a decade, it was everything to me. I wrote a full feature screenplay that came close to selling. I even signed a pre-option agreement with a production company to create a documentary about my background as a Vietnamese adoptee.
But life had other plans.
Losing both of my parents to cancer, moving across countries, and other personal detours pulled me away from that dream. I couldn’t continue with filmmaking the way I had envisioned. Still, I don’t regret the journey. Passion doesn’t always lead to a career — sometimes it leads to growth.

Then came the Pandemic — yes, capital P — and everything stopped.
Like many, I was forced inward. Some discovered new parts of themselves. Others, sadly, faced deeper depressions. For many creatives and freelancers, it was also a time of identity loss. My passion for film had already gone lost. My passion for portrait photography — something I’d embraced since leaving film — was the next to go. In such close-contact work, I simply didn’t want to risk anyone’s health. I had created a community for photographers, models and make-up artists around the Marbella-area in Costa del Sol, Spain.

But then something unexpected surfaced.

To stay sane during Spain’s long and heavy lockdowns, we were allowed outside only for essential activities. And one of those? –Padel.
That little loophole saved me. It got me outdoors, kept me active, and gave me back a sense of purpose — even joy. Southern Spain’s sun helped, of course. But more than that, padel reawakened something I hadn’t felt in years.

My body, which had once been strong before being hit by a car (yes, a story for another time), began to transform again. I found muscles I thought I had lost forever. I began organizing matches, training with instructors, and building a small community. Without realizing it, I had rediscovered another old passion: sport.
It took me back to my childhood.
 At six, I joined the “big girls” drill team and began gymnastics. In my teens, I trained 20 hours a week in rhythmic gymnastics — rope, ball, hoop, clubs, and ballet. I was on the national junior team and aimed for senior-level competition. By then, I was also running regularly with our family’s black lab. Looking back, I trained up to 30 hours a week. It wasn’t about health — I was a full-blown training addict.

I stayed active into my thirties through Nordic gymnastics and sailing, still competing. Movement was always a core part of my identity. Over the years, I dabbled in Telemark skiing, snowboarding, rollerblading, biking, jazz dance, and more. But it wasn’t until now — through padel — that I truly felt like I’d come home.
Yes, today I help people play padel. I organize games and connect players with classes. It may seem simple, but for me, it’s a return to something fundamental.

Which brings me back to passion.
We change.
Our passions evolve.

But I believe this: if you look in the mirror and feel like you can’t do another day of the same routine, that’s your sign. Something needs to shift. Find something that moves you, that lights you up, that makes you forget time. It might not make you rich, or famous, or even visible — but it will make you feel alive.
That’s what passion does. It’s our survival, turned into joy.


And life is far too short not to feel that joy.
Are you with me?

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