The Art of Grit

(6 Minutes)

When Passion Becomes Its Own Language

I’ve been thinking about the moments when someone’s face lights up while talking about something they truly care about. You know what I mean—that particular kind of animation that transforms an ordinary conversation into something magnetic. It happened to me just last week when a friend started describing a book that had completely captivated her. Her words tumbled out faster than usual, her hands moved as she spoke, and there was something in her voice that made me lean forward without realizing it.

That’s when it struck me: genuine enthusiasm might be one of the most underrated forms of eloquence we possess. Not the manufactured excitement of sales pitches or social media posts, but the real thing—the kind that bubbles up from somewhere deep and authentic when we encounter something that truly moves us.

There’s something almost magical about witnessing someone in the grip of genuine passion. It doesn’t matter if they’re talking about Renaissance art, backyard gardening, quantum physics, or the perfect way to fold fitted sheets. When enthusiasm is real, it becomes its own form of poetry.

The Rarity of Unguarded Passion

I’ve noticed that true enthusiasm has become increasingly rare in our everyday interactions. We’ve grown cautious about showing too much excitement, afraid of appearing unprofessional, naive, or simply too much. We’ve learned to temper our responses, to couch our excitement in disclaimers and qualifications.

“I know this might sound silly, but…” we begin, already apologizing for the thing that’s about to make us come alive.

“I’m probably overthinking this, but…” we say, as if deep engagement with ideas is something to be ashamed of.

“I’m kind of obsessed with…” we admit, as though passion were a character flaw rather than a gift.

I find myself wondering when we collectively decided that enthusiasm needed to be contained, packaged, or justified. When did we start treating genuine excitement as something embarrassing rather than something beautiful?

The truth is, I think we’re all hungry for more authentic enthusiasm in our lives. We crave interactions with people who care deeply about things, who haven’t learned to hide their passion behind a veneer of cool detachment. These people remind us what it feels like to be fully engaged with the world.

The Language of Genuine Care

There’s a particular eloquence that emerges when someone talks about something they genuinely care about. It’s not the polished eloquence of practiced speakers or the calculated charm of those trying to impress. It’s something rawer and more honest—the eloquence of someone who has forgotten to perform because they’re too busy feeling.

I remember a conversation with my neighbor about his vegetable garden. He’s not a particularly expressive person in most contexts, but when he started talking about soil composition and companion planting, something transformed. His usually measured speech became animated. He used his hands to describe the arc of tomato vines, the way basil and tomatoes support each other’s growth. He talked about morning rituals of checking for pests and the satisfaction of harvesting something he’d nurtured from seed.

For twenty minutes, I was completely absorbed in a topic I’d never given much thought to. Not because gardening suddenly became my passion, but because his enthusiasm was infectious. His genuine care made the subject matter secondary to the experience of witnessing someone truly alive in their element.

That’s the thing about authentic enthusiasm—it doesn’t require you to share the same interests. The passion itself becomes the point of connection.

The Magnetic Pull of Authenticity

I’ve been reflecting on why genuine enthusiasm is so attractive, and I think it comes down to authenticity in a world that often feels scripted. When someone drops their guard and allows their real excitement to show, they’re offering something increasingly precious: an unfiltered glimpse of who they actually are.

There’s vulnerability in enthusiasm. To be genuinely excited about something is to risk judgment, to reveal what matters to you, to show that you care about something enough to let it affect you. In a culture that often rewards emotional distance and calculated responses, authentic enthusiasm is a small act of courage.

I think we’re drawn to enthusiastic people because they remind us of possibilities we might have forgotten. They show us what it looks like to be fully engaged with life, to find meaning and joy in unexpected places. They demonstrate that it’s possible to care deeply about things without irony or apology.

When someone talks passionately about their work, their hobbies, their interests, they’re not just sharing information—they’re sharing a piece of themselves. They’re showing us what it looks like to be alive to the world’s possibilities.

The Contagious Nature of Genuine Passion

I’ve noticed that enthusiasm has a way of spreading, but only when it’s genuine. Forced excitement falls flat, but authentic passion is almost impossible to resist. It wakes something up in us, reminds us of our own capacity for wonder and engagement.

Think about the teachers who made the biggest impact on you. I’d bet they weren’t necessarily the most knowledgeable or the most skilled, but they were the ones who genuinely loved their subject. Their enthusiasm made even the most mundane topics feel important. They couldn’t help but care, and their caring made you care too.

The same principle applies beyond classrooms. The best tour guides aren’t the ones with the most facts memorized, but the ones who are genuinely excited about the places they’re showing you. The most compelling speakers aren’t necessarily the most polished, but the ones who clearly believe in what they’re saying.

There’s something about witnessing genuine enthusiasm that makes us want to find our own. It’s a reminder that passion is available to all of us, that there are still things in this world worth getting excited about.

The Courage to Care Openly

I’ve been thinking about my own relationship with enthusiasm, and I realize I’ve spent years learning to hide it. Somewhere along the way, I absorbed the message that caring too much about things was uncool, that genuine excitement was something to be embarrassed about.

I remember being a kid and feeling completely uninhibited about the things I loved. I could talk for hours about books, about animals, about whatever had captured my imagination that week. There was no self-consciousness, no worry about whether my enthusiasm was appropriate or attractive. I simply cared about things, and that caring felt natural and right.

As I got older, I learned to modulate my responses. I developed an internal editor that would kick in whenever I started to get too excited about something. “Don’t be too much,” it would whisper. “Don’t let them see how much you care.”

But watching other people’s faces light up when they talk about their passions makes me wonder what we lose when we learn to contain our enthusiasm. What conversations never happen because we’re too afraid to reveal what we care about? What connections never form because we’re too worried about appearing foolish?

The Risk of Vulnerability

There is, of course, a risk in showing genuine enthusiasm. When we care openly about something, we make ourselves vulnerable to judgment, dismissal, or ridicule. Not everyone will appreciate our passion. Some people might find our excitement annoying or naive.

I think about the times I’ve shared something I was excited about only to be met with blank stares or polite disinterest. Those moments sting. They make you want to retreat, to keep your enthusiasm to yourself next time.

But I’ve come to believe that the risk is worth it. The alternative—a world where everyone keeps their passions hidden, where conversations stay safely on the surface—feels infinitely worse. We need people who are willing to care openly, who are brave enough to let their enthusiasm show.

The people who dismiss genuine enthusiasm often do so because they’ve forgotten what it feels like to be passionate about something themselves. They’ve grown cynical or disconnected from their own capacity for wonder. That’s their loss, not ours.

Finding Your Own Eloquence

I’ve started paying attention to the things that make me genuinely excited, the topics that make me lean forward in conversation, the activities that make me lose track of time. I’ve noticed that when I’m talking about something I truly care about, my usual self-consciousness fades. I stop worrying about whether I’m being articulate or impressive and simply focus on sharing what moves me.

That’s when I feel most like myself—not the carefully curated version I present in professional settings or social media, but the person who gets excited about random things, who finds meaning in unexpected places, who hasn’t learned to hide behind cynicism or detachment.

I think we all have this capacity for eloquent enthusiasm. It’s not about being the most articulate or the most knowledgeable. It’s about being willing to care openly, to let our genuine excitement show, to risk the vulnerability that comes with passion.

The world needs more people who are willing to light up when they talk about the things they love. We need more conversations where someone’s eyes brighten and their voice changes because they’ve encountered something that matters to them. We need more reminders that it’s possible to be fully engaged with life.

The Invitation to Authenticity

Every time someone shares their genuine enthusiasm with us, they’re offering an invitation—an invitation to drop our own guards, to remember what it feels like to care deeply about something, to connect over the shared experience of being human beings who are capable of wonder.

These moments of authentic enthusiasm are gifts. They remind us that beneath all our careful social conditioning, we’re still capable of being moved, still able to find joy and meaning in the world around us.

I find myself wanting to accept these invitations more readily, to be more generous with my own enthusiasm, to create space for others to share what excites them. Because in a world that often feels disconnected and cynical, genuine passion is a form of resistance—a reminder that there are still things worth caring about.

Maybe the most eloquent thing we can do is simply allow ourselves to care openly about the things that matter to us. To let our faces light up when we talk about our passions. To risk the vulnerability that comes with authentic enthusiasm. To remember that in a world full of performance and pretense, genuine excitement is a rare and beautiful thing.

The eloquence of true enthusiasm isn’t about finding the perfect words or the most impressive way to express ourselves. It’s about being brave enough to care, generous enough to share that caring with others, and wise enough to recognize that our passion—whatever its focus—is part of what makes us uniquely human.

In the end, perhaps the most attractive thing about genuine enthusiasm is that it reminds us all of our capacity for wonder, for engagement, for finding meaning in the world around us. And in a time when wonder sometimes feels in short supply, that reminder might be exactly what we need.