--from November 27, 2018
My wonderful readers, thank you for being so patient with me. I know it's been a while since I have written.
Last night my darling mother shared a video with me that caressed the softness of my soul that I had not enlightened in quite some time.
Some of you may have seen it, some may not. If you have not, I encourage you to watch the link below to embark on an adorable journey that Apple decided to share with us for the holidays.
This advertisement is enchanting and compelling in a way that felt as if it were written just for me. I know more than a plethora of you are aware that my first love was, and still will forever be, hockey. There is no better feeling than stepping onto that cold sheet of ice, hearing your blades dig into it with a force so powerful and gentle all in one. The grinding of the silver blade against something so white and pristine, creating a dichotomy of textures that is incomparable to anything in this world. The sting of the cold air piercing through your face mask and making your eyes water ever-so-slightly. The slapping of a puck against a stick. The warm embrace of your teammates. The goal buzzer. The roar of the crowd. A smile of a child as he or she puts a tiny hand on the glass.
Yes, hockey will always be my greatest love.
However, there is another passion that has burned within my soul since I read my first novel. Although I do not quite remember the exact book that sparked my intense affair with the written word, I remember the presence of a library being so significant in my childhood. I immersed myself in books, in stories, in adventures. It was like a thrilling escape every time I opened pages, some brand new, some worn and soft with the amount of fingers that had brushed upon them. I was, and quite frankly still am, entirely in love with the fact that someone's words on a piece of paper could reach so deep into my soul to extract emotions I did not yet even understand myself--that words were so powerful that they could make people laugh, make them cry, take them back in time to a distant memory.
Words could paint pictures without an isle, drip from my mouth when I mumbled them out loud like they were a quench to a thirst I had not realized I had. I was mesmerized by the ability of the Hemingways, the Thoreaus, the Ingalls-Wilders, the Austen's of the world who had lived so long before me, to make me feel as if I was with them. I was baffled by the way the J.K. Rowlings and Rick Riordans could build an entire society founded on imagination, and make it feel so real I could grasp it with my own hands.
It was only a short while after that I realized my own words could provide glimpses into my life, maybe, just maybe, allow others to feel connected to me somehow. Through the click of a keyboard or the smooth stroke of a pen. A way that was only captured through words.
It was a love that opened my heart, a love that taught me to love, that challenged me, my refuge in times of trial, a vulnerability so precious.
As life became busier and gradually more difficult (or seemingly so), my writing habits were not of as much abundance and my reading followed a similar suit. Ever-so-often I was lucky enough to take a literature or poetry class and ignite my soul once again. My blog with the Badgers provided me with the privilege of sharing more stories.
Then I graduated.
And lately I have felt lost in the absence of my structured writings, feeling like if there is not someone telling me what to write, I do not know what to write about.
But guess what? That is what writing is. That, right there, is what makes it so beautiful. The fact that only YOU know what to write. If you allow the words that flow from your heart to your fingertips onto the page, something will be created.
It was me that was stopping myself the entire time. I was my own obstacle. I understand that now and I will let nothing prevent me from continuing my true passion.
I am a writer, and as Apple wishes us to "share our gifts," I will share mine.
Let this be a reminder to you all that words and stories are what keeps humanity alive.
And most of all, let this be a reminder to the individuals who read this to follow your hearts, your dreams, what lights that fire within you.
Share your gifts.
Love always,
Baylee
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