Passion is a beautiful, scary thing. Most of us know it means something about strong, overpowering emotions. However, it originates from the Latin “passio,” meaning suffering or enduring. Passion isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Sometimes it is… and sometimes the “passio” part is excruciating. It takes courage and wisdom to chase it with grit and understand it might not always feel blissful or even good. It might mean second guessing everything or if it’s even worth it. But those moments — if we lean in — teach us the most about who we are, what we do and why we do it. They are our best teachers. I’m not going to say, “don’t be afraid of them,” because I will be the first to admit they’re terrifying. However, I will surely urge you to let them guide you. They hold all the answers… or at least more questions. And like Rilke so famously said, “isn’t that the point? To live the questions?”
I think the grittiest way in which we can love anything is to love it with open arms. If it stays, what a gift – the thing for which we have passion also gets to be free; it can fly away and return with newfound inspiration. If it leaves us, what a gift – we get to explore until something else finds us.
My story didn’t start with passion. It started at the piano with what some might call expressionism. That quickly turned into my dad teaching me Chopsticks and Heart and Soul. I clearly remember “discovering” what I later learned to be sus4 chords and trying to find them in all the keys. I didn’t even know what key signatures were at that time, but I knew I loved the feeling of that sound – bonus points if I could add the base. I loved how it made my bones rattle.
The next chapter began with singing. Near the end of third grade, I auditioned for a children’s chorus. I still couldn’t read music, but that didn’t seem to be a problem. For my audition, I sang “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” from the Lion King, my childhood favorite movie. A few years into that choir, we prepared an oratorio about the Holocaust and performed it in a work camp in Germany. I was too young to comprehend everything, but I still remember the silence mixed with sobs from within the choirs, orchestra, and audience. It washed over me. I think that’s when the passion truly started. I couldn’t have described it at 11 years old, but something in me knew that music was so much bigger and more powerful than what I knew.
Then flute found me. I never wanted to play the flute. My sister played the flute. So, naturally, I wanted nothing to do with it. I wanted to play trombone; I liked the slide. Anita Boster, my middle school band teacher, thought differently. She encouraged me to give the flute a shot. And to my dismay, I really liked it. However, I didn’t sign up for the band the next year. My “friends” didn’t approve. Right before school started, Anita saw me in the hallway and questioned why I wasn’t on her roster. I lied, not wanting to disappoint her, but she saw right through it. She vehemently encouraged me to reconsider. Had she not done that, my entire life would be different: no concerto competitions, no recitals, no endless hours practicing; no joining the Marine Corps as a musician, where I’ve gotten to travel the world with some of the most wonderful artists and people; no ending up as the flute instructor, where my newest passion has found me —- teaching.
That might make it sound like it was easy. I assure you it wasn’t. I’ve had many days where I ask if I actually love it. Turns out, most professionals ask that question. I’ve had days where performance anxiety has boisterously won; I quit singing because of that. I’ve had days where I’ve genuinely wanted to quit flute, too. Yet somehow, my “why” always seems to find its way back to me, seemingly in the small moments; watching a student’s eyes sparkle at seeing what they’re capable of, playing in the stairwells where I can feel wrapped in sound, or playing my favorite piece in the middle of the night. That’s what brings me back. And I feel like I always come back as a better artist. I’m also lucky to have had incredibly supportive parents and mentors to guide me through those times.
I could tell stories of what it felt like when I was soaring on top of the world in performance, but that’s not everything. That’s just part of it — an amazing part. And I wanted to focus more on the part that doesn’t so often get told. Following your passions and dreams is humbling and testing. It’s full of failures and triumphs. It’s full of celebrations, tears, self-doubt, and childlike joy. It’s full of art – the process itself is art.
Trust it.
Staff Sergeant Backes is currently the Flute Instructor at the U.S. Naval School of Music in Virginia Beach, VA where she teaches, coaches, and mentors professional military musicians from the Navy and Marine Corps, as well as Soldiers from the U.S. Army School of Music. Additionally, she was recognized as the 2024 Staff Non-commissioned Officer Marine Musician of the Year. She is originally from St. Cloud, Minnesota and holds a BM in Flute Performance and a BA in Spanish from Gustavus Adolphus College in Saint Peter, MN.
