Ever eat a pomegranate?  It tastes delicious, right?  Until you neigh choke on the bulbous seed of each red ruby.  A pomegranate is like the suave gentleman who never quite proposes to the lady because of his plethora of wife, children, parents, mother-in-law, mortgage, job, church... inner conflicts of interest.

There's a reason I bring up the Jane Austin of all fruits, besides wanting to feast your eyes with this alluring photo.  The necessary work of art can be daunting, too, if you fall in love with a creative idea before you understand the swallowing hazards involved.  I love to perform music.  I've worked hard to be good at it.  But venues tend to hire bands to get people onto bar stools and keep them there to drink, and drink... and drink.  Or they invite musicians into their cacophonous bookstores and cafés to play for tips, exposure and CD hawking.  These hard kernels have nothing to do with my love of performing and everything to do with saying, 'no.'

I once bought a pint of pomegranate juice with my life savings because the nectar is known for curative properties and the curve of the bottle charmed me.  Now this was far too precious to actually drink, but I did think about drinking some now and then as I heaved jugs of milk and OJ off the bottom shelf.  One day, of course, I poured myself a wee tumbler of succulent ambrosia only to spit out the vinegary stuff I'd been quietly aging.  Sometimes a dream deferred is a royal waste of time.

All of which brings me to ask you to share your stories and ploys when it comes to doing (or avoiding) what brings you to life.  What do you do when the milieu is hard to swallow, the tedium larger than the joy, or when inner conflicts - worthiness, precious timing, prior commitments - threaten your pure passion?

photo by Fir0002 GNU Free Documentation License