What makes you come alive?

What makes you come alive? What makes your eyes light up and gives you purpose? 

I am struggling with what I am passionate about. I have had moments in my life where I had a passion, something that kept me going from day to day. I remember getting up at 5 am (and for those of you who know me, you know it would take something pretty special to get me up that early!) while I was working at summer camp to go for a horseback ride.

The sun would be barely up, or not quite up yet, and I and maybe a friend or two would make the trek over to the barn and corral. The fog would be whispering across the pasture, the grass would be wet, the smell was fresh and clean, the first hope of a new day and the light would be gray with the first hint of yellow hitting the tops of the trees. Sometimes we would go out and catch our horses. When we’d do that, we’d normally ride them into the corral from the pasture. The feeling of sitting astride a powerful horse, running in the middle of a herd with unfettered horses surging beside us, barely in control with just a halter and a rope cannot be described adequately. 

Other times we would call the “ponies” in and they would come running. We’d stand on the fence and watch the draw where the horses would come through and start hollering. They knew they would get treats, so they would come running. We could hear their thunder first, one or two of the dominant horses would come first, then the rest of our 20 or so horses would come barreling through the draw, along the pasture fence, down the side of the pasture and into the corral, dust flying, ears pricked and eyes wide. They were summer camp horses, so they were every breed and color which just added to their collective beauty. Bays, Paints, Appaloosas, roans, greys, ponies and horses alike. 

Once our horses were caught, we’d head out, usually with no saddles. The purest way to ride a horse, nothing between me and my horse, every feeling, every movement felt, every communication natural. We’d head down into the flats and either turn right into the forest and the swamps, or turn left into the field. If we’d turn right, we start out slow, just enjoying the nature and the early morning sounds and smells. If we’d turn left, we’d hit the flat and canter down the field. 

We’d finish our ride and head back to work for the day, which usually turned out to be 15 or 16 hour days. Then we’d get up and go again the next day.

The job was a good job, rewarding as any job is when you are working with kids, but the passion, the joy of riding, the beauty of it kept me going, kept me alive.

I don’t have that right now. I am looking for it, for something to make my blood boil and my eyes light up. I think football might turn into a passion for me, but for now it’s still pretty new and still a little scary. 

I am currently hanging out with two people who are chasing their passions. One is my husband. He is working a day-to-day job to keep us surviving and paying the bills, but outside of that, he is starting a web design business. His eyes light up when he finds a cool new application or figures out a way to solve a problem he’s been working on. His love of what he is doing comes out in laughter and exclamations. 

The other is my best friend. She is being creative, she is painting, she is designing jewelry, she is putting her inner beauty and vision out into the world in physical form. The joy in her voice when she talks about her art, the sparkle in her eye makes her more beautiful still. 

I am searching for that passion again. I want to feel alive, I want to have a reason for getting up in the mornings. It doesn’t have to be a job, it doesn’t have to be an everyday thing, but I must have that passion back in my life.