a love letter to following your passion

an inspiration from a disney movie

i remember the first time i tried to cook something more complicated than scrambled eggs. i was 22, fresh out of college, and decided it was time to be an adult—which, naturally, meant mastering the art of pasta. i had watched my mom do it countless times, so i thought, how hard could it be? but as the water boiled over and the sauce curdled into some unrecognizable mess, i realized two things: one, cooking is a lot harder than it looks, and two, my passion for eating was not the same as my passion for cooking.

fast forward a few years, and i stumble across ratatouille on a lazy sunday afternoon. now, i wasn’t expecting a cartoon rat to inspire me in ways my college degree didn’t, but remy had me rethinking things. there’s this scene where remy, a rat who dreams of being a chef, is caught in the kitchen of a famous parisian restaurant. instead of running away, he does what he does best—he starts cooking. i sat there, watching this animated rat with more culinary skill than i’ll ever have, and it hit me: this is what passion looks like. it’s messy, unexpected, and sometimes downright weird, but when you know, you know. passion has a way of grabbing you by the apron and dragging you into the heat of the kitchen, whether you’re ready or not.

what’s beautiful about remy’s story is that it’s not just about cooking. it’s about finding that thing you love so much that you’d do it in secret, in the shadows, with no recognition. for remy, it wasn’t about being a famous chef—it was about the love of the craft, the excitement of creating something magical out of simple ingredients. that’s what passion is. it’s not about the end goal or the applause, it’s about those quiet moments when you’re doing what you love just because you have to.

watching remy sneak around the kitchen, risking it all for the chance to cook, reminded me of the times i stayed up late working on something i loved, long after everyone else had gone to bed. i think we all have a bit of remy in us—the part that quietly rebels against what we’re “supposed” to do in favor of what we *need* to do. the thing that fills us with excitement and dread at the same time, that makes us feel alive. and yet, how often do we follow that passion? how often do we let ourselves believe we can actually turn that thing we love into something more?

here’s the kicker: remy isn’t just dealing with obstacles like being a rat in a kitchen full of humans. he’s also up against the reality of doubt—his own and others’. but he pushes through. that’s the part we don’t always talk about when it comes to passion: the persistence. it’s not always a montage of successes. sometimes it’s just a lot of quietly refusing to quit. remy has every reason to give up—no one believes in him, his family thinks he’s crazy, and the world isn’t exactly kind to rats. but there he is, stirring sauces, chopping vegetables, and perfecting recipes in the dead of night, all because something inside him won’t let him stop.

i’ll admit, i’ve often been more of a linguini—stumbling into situations i’m not quite prepared for, letting others (or life) take the lead while i fumble my way through. but remy? he’s different. he doesn’t wait for permission. he doesn’t need someone to tell him he’s good enough, because he knows. sure, he’s a rat in a world of humans, but that doesn’t stop him from grabbing a spoon and making his mark.

and there’s something so unapologetic about that. remy’s not waiting for the world to give him a chance. he’s taking it. and that’s something i think we can all learn from—stop waiting for the perfect moment, the perfect opportunity. just go for it. whatever your “it” is. because if remy can do it in a world where everything is stacked against him, what’s stopping the rest of us?

now, the idea of a rat in a fine dining kitchen might seem absurd, but honestly, isn't that how most of us feel when we’re chasing something we love? a bit out of place, a bit unsure, like maybe we don’t belong in the very space we’re drawn to. remy’s story is a reminder that those feelings are normal—but they’re not a reason to stop. in fact, they’re often the reason to keep going. the best things, the things that really set our hearts on fire, are usually the ones that make us feel a little scared, a little out of our depth.

and the truth is, passion is never about being the best, or even knowing what you're doing half the time. it’s about showing up, getting your hands dirty, and loving every messy, chaotic minute of it. so maybe we're all a little like remy. maybe we’re all just trying to find our way in a world that doesn’t always make sense, following our instincts, and hoping that what we love will lead us to where we’re supposed to be.

in the end, remy proves that following your passion isn’t about being perfect. it’s about being relentless, resilient, and a little rebellious. it’s about loving something enough to do it, even when it doesn’t make sense to anyone else. and maybe that’s the real magic of ratatouille. it’s not about a rat becoming a chef. it’s about the sheer joy of doing what you love and letting that be enough.

so, while i may not be whipping up gourmet meals in a parisian kitchen anytime soon, remy’s story reminds me that passion, in whatever form it takes, deserves to be followed. whether it’s cooking, writing, or something else entirely, we all have that thing that makes our hearts race a little faster. the key is to chase it, even if we’re just a rat in a world full of humans, trying to figure it out as we go. and honestly? that’s more than enough.