What is the passion of your soul? Do you know? Have you lost your raw child energy? We cannot all build careers around passion, such as many artists are able to do, but we can all stay connected to that early joy. I love riding horses, and I rode often until I was in my mid-twenties. Throughout my life, I dreamed of owning a horse ranch in Tucson, Arizona, where my family vacationed throughout my childhood, and where my brother Greg now lives. Whether that ever happens -- and I still hold on to the hope that it will -- I can still ride horses in my home state of Maryland. I can still live part of my dream.

I recently got on a horse again after a two-decade break, at my
friend Marian Shaw's 190-acre farm off the Chester River in eastern
Maryland. As she was adjusting my stirrups on a mare named Iris, of
all names, I put my head on the horse's red mane, stroked her sinewy
neck and the smell of sweat and hay shot me back to my horse Chico
from girlhood and the tobacco-chewing cowboys who led us on trails
through the Arizona desert. Cowboy Frank is an indelible memory. He
wore tight jeans and smoked Camel non-filters and he made the best
scrambled eggs fried in bacon grease on breakfast rides -- this
while drinking a Coors beer from the can.

With tears streaming through the dust on my cheeks, I took off with
Marian next to fields of soybeans and new emerald green wheat.
Everything good and right about riding came rushing back to me:
loping against the wind, my muscles molded onto the horse's muscles,
moving as one, like a sexy slow dance. As we eased to a halt, I let
a hot and glisteny Iris chomp on some bushes, then put my hands on
the horn of the Western saddle and threw my head back. Under a
blinding October sun and surging with history, my whole self opened.

How could I have left horses, the sport of my soul? I ride as often
as I can these days and will never stop. That was a huge mistake.

What are you hankering to do that you stopped doing? As parents we
are delegated to the sidelines, to watch as our children exalt in
tackling new sports and activities. While we are proud audience
members as they learn to horseback-ride, score goals in soccer,
excel at ballet and get up on water skis, all this can make us want
to dig in ourselves. Pushing ourselves to get off the observation
deck and back into the game can make anyone feel giddy, like a
grown-up who is still growing, not someone edging over the hill.
Grab your old skateboard or guitar, pick up on writing the novel you
started in college, go back to something you once loved but left.
You too will feel as if you've unlocked a precious piece of yourself
that got buried with time and responsibility.