Think back to your first memories. Maybe you can glimpse flickering lights, a mother's face or a favorite pet. We come into our consciousness gradually. Our early memories are fragmented and slowly start to build into our "sense of self". So, what then is the foundation of a Passion?
I do not remember when I was not passionate (obsessed my parents would say) about horses and riding. If I think objectively, I cannot comprehend a time in my youthful life, when I did not think/connive/obsess about owning and riding horses. It was really strange! I was a suburban Detroit kid with middle-class parents of eastern European descent - no connection, absolutely ZERO connection to horses, yet there it was. I loved them. I read books about horses and deformed my Barbies' legs around the barrels of model horses so they could ride and jump. I sketched horses in every pose at every gait.
I worked to raise money. I saved every penny from birthday and Christmas gifts. By the time I was 10 years old I had $750 saved for my horse! A fortune! We moved to a town in Michigan with a house near a pony farm and (!!!) I started riding! My first pony cost $250. The saddle, bridle and other tack and brushes totaled around $200. My mother agreed to pay $35/month for field board, but i had to pay for lessons - about $5/week.
I was there every day. I went in the winter, in the blizzards and in the snow in the rain and in the sun. I remember riding my pony bareback (it was warmer that way) in the blizzard crouched down with my head on the lee side of her neck to block the driving winds. I just wanted to be there, with her, riding. I didn't care.
On sunny days I would gallop as fast as she could go across the fields - I could have broken my neck - I could have broken her neck! But I didn't care. I just wanted to go as fast as we could go. And for a few moments the world was perfect and we were flying across the ground until the field ended and we had to stop.
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