Ryanne's Riff

This summer our vivoGS interns are writing some incredible stuff. Thought I'd feature some of their articles that inspire me here. Is it weird that I feel that "game-day hunger" nearly every day? Constantly updating ourselves and challenging ourselves is what makes us alive. Don't ever get complacent or lose that youthful hunger for challenge. Thanks, Ryanne, for putting into words what college graduates everywhere are also going through.

As a recent college graduate, I have been spending my time soul-searching. Almost all my thoughts are devoted to the quest to find my passion in life. With my degree in hand, I feel lost and unsure of which direction to turn next. Nothing is pulling me like I had always assumed and expected it would.

These pressing thoughts and questions about my future have my brain working overtime and with little interruption—well, that is, other than from what I like to call “the side effects” of the rent-free living at home experience. Yes, that’s right, your mom can still make you clean your room at age 22.

In fact, cleaning my room seemed to be one of the most enlightening experiences that I have had during this post-grad era. As I cleared shelves and said a few tearful goodbyes to old rec-league trophies and medals, I came across a shoebox full of tattered papers. Having no recollection of ever putting or even seeing the box in my closet, I sat down on my bed to skim through the old papers.

Inside was a collection of letters that I used to write and pass out on game day to every member of the high school basketball team I captained. The letters were different every game but each one was meant to pump up the team and get the girls focused on the upcoming game. Always, the letters were signed with a heart and a #32.

As I read through the long letters—each emblazoned with a desperate fire to win, I realized that it wasn’t the writing style or even the nostalgia that had kept me seated and reading on the bed an hour later. It was the unedited and untainted passion that those words were written with.

In one bittersweet and fleeting moment, I realized that I was admiring that passion the way a 40 year-old woman admires the size of the jeans she wore in high school—with a longing for what once was.

I was passionate about my goals and ambitions. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind about what I wanted. I spent my time playing basketball and not only did I want to win but I needed to. It was the entirety of my livelihood.

In a way, that desperate passion is something that time has taken away from me. Life has become convoluted and clouded by uncertainty, experiences, new sets of ideals and principles and a 100x broader horizon of opportunity.

I am not the same as I was four years ago. I have grown up, learned new things and am constantly coming up with updated versions of myself.

Looking through that box of letters reminded me that while I can change and find new interests, I must find the passion that I once had. Playing basketball allowed me to experience the awesome power of passion and for that I am forever grateful to the sport.

And, while I may not be any closer to finding my niche now than I was before my sprint down memory lane, I have a new sense of direction since I was reminded of the passion that I am capable of feeling. Now I know that I must find something that makes me feel that game-day hunger again.

I’m determined to not stop until I do.