When I was 18, I had a passion for telling people about the world. Often in extensive essays--especially after hearing something that got me all riled up.

Now when something exacerbates me, I still start those same fired-up essays. But now I rarely finish them, and even less commonly share them. At this point, I'd rather go check on my raspberry patch or take a contemplative walk.

Before you youngsters call me old, just know that I beat you to the punch: I imagined my young self ranting about my being old. Then I physically shook my head and smiled.

Passions drive the world. And divide it. It takes a little wisdom to see all sides of it. We all need passion. And some humility.