I had the opportunity to meet up with my friends at the Lazy H Ranch this past weekend. I arrived early and had a few moments to look around. The arena was freshly dragged, and the field mowed, leaving fodder behind for snacking horses. The cows in the pen swatted at flies, and the goats paced unaware of their impending summons.
I wandered, being beckoned first by the sign advertising $2 hotdogs, cold drinks, and Moon Pies, and then by the allure of a few free minutes to pull out my rope and play with the dummy.
As I sent my loop sailing towards the plastic steer head, I saw the families trickle in. Small children trotted by, helmets and hats, headed to their prize pony for the first event. The air was still and as thick as the humidity could have dreamed to create.
For a few seconds, I was alone in my own world. I stood in the middle of a field with the highway distant, the crowd distant, and the animals observing silently.
My mind was drawn back to a scene from one of my favorite childhood movies, Summer Stock, featuring Gene Kelly and Judy Garland. In Summer Stock, Garland is getting a taste of show business by way of her love interest, Kelly. Kelly explains his passion for the craft by waving grease paint under her nose and warning her that it is dangerous. He goes on to describe how with one whiff of the innocent looking tube, it gets in your blood and then nothing is ever the same. She seems surprised at first, but as she follows her heart, she discovers not only her love for Kelly but her passion for singing and acting. She discovers she, too, has fallen prey to grease paint.
I love his explanation because of how true it rings in my own life. It is the intangible things, like the smell of grease paint that infiltrate our bodies and change us. The things we have a strong attraction to, a curiosity about, and a willingness to put in the work to chip away at their layers. Perhaps some of these passions were in our blood from the moment of creation, and we slowly discover them as we live our lives.
I’ve been blessed to have several grease paint passions in my life, and one of these is rodeo. Not just the sport, but the history. The ranches that started competing amongst themselves, the women who rode broncs in skirts and loved their men as fiercely. The traditions, the values, the folks like Casey Tibbs who determined style was an art and a source of pride. These events have shaped character, provided therapeutic relief for countless weary hearts, and affected horsemanship in ways that I’d argue are for the better, as the rough moments have taught us the importance of learning to do things in a gentler, more patient manner moving forward.
There are few things I love as much as those moments when wide open spaces, dirt arenas, cows, horses, ropes, music, and trying hearts blend into a few moments of a pure pursuit of passion. In the best moments, the animal is a partner in that passion.
Like the smell of grease paint, or the moment you discover true love, these passions are always present whether we are pursuing them or not. Every now and then, God and the world around us sends us a moment, a whiff, a glimpse of the things that make us feel alive to remind us there is so much more than just routine.
Here’s to grease paint passions—-may you have them, find them, and share them.
