My coach reached for my hand, wrinkled from hours spent in the water. My breathing shallow with exhaustion, I peered up at him. Looking deep into my eyes, he whispered, “Amaya, you could be this team’s first ever Olympian.” That was enough to ignite a fire within, one that carried me through the remainder of practice, and propelled me to earning a spot on the USA Water Polo Cadet National Team at age 14. Years later that same coach summoned me to the corner, mere seconds shy of the fourth quarter of the state championship game, and again, saw me for who I was: the young freshman, with a passion outweighing the rest, possessing the potential to be great. Rivaling his previous prediction, he prophesied our win, saying, “Amaya, believe in yourself and in your team.” These moments, shared with a coach wise beyond his years, remind me what incredible privileges water polo has gifted me: a place to succeed, empowering me to reach higher in other aspects of my life, the motivation to be completely myself, looking into the future with anticipation, and a team, who has become my community.

Since participating in a middle school mock trial, I have desired to achieve a career as an attorney. This motivation stems to the day of the trial. As an eighth-grader dressed in a pencil skirt, with my aqua marine blouse tucked in, wearing my mom’s semi-ancient black heels, I have never felt more empowered than I did the day of the mock trial. Compared to my classmates, my voice projected the loudest, the clearest. Not once did my words quiver or my legs threaten to buckle. I confidently walked edge to edge of the aging judge’s bench. Each time I approached the witness stand, I would look out across the sea of familiar faces of attendees, then make piercing eye contact with whoever I was questioning. Forcing a line of connection to be drawn between those listening, I left proclaiming my vow to a career in law. More specifically, I dream of using my stance to give voice to human and civil rights and social issues of the time. I want to represent the under-represented, standing beside them, proving that they too deserve to be stood up for.

Consistency in an ever changing world is what I believe separates a mediocre leader from a great one. An average leader will do all these things, even more, on any given day. However, an extraordinary will possess the strength within to do all this day in and day out. They will show up and those around them will know what to expect. Those who look up to the leader will appreciate the presence they contribute to a room, and will seek their aurora in situations, for they know the leader will consistently shed light. A leader will step into a room and exude confidence and when unsure, will be honest enough to ask, to seek guidance. This flux and openness of emotion will demonstrate consistently that one does not need to have it all together, all figured out, in order to walk in grace. A way that I have practiced consistently showing up for my community was my tenure volunteering at the local hospital throughout the COVID-19 pandemic. Though unable to work alongside the nurses fighting the virus directly, I ascended to the same floor as them, working with the short stay nurses to discharge the patients undergoing minor procedures as rapidly as possible, minimizing their exposure. I was across the hall from the realness of the pandemic: people dying alone, nurses pushed past their breaking points, and the privilege of clean air never again to be taken for granted. However, where I was, the greatest tragedy was a few hours more than expected spent in recovery. I have no doubt that this experience would have had a meaningful impact on my life regardless of the times. However, the opportunity to be a miniscule part of the force warding the virus, instilled a different, more intense pride. Wearing a mask was perhaps my greatest contribution as I did not hang IV bags containing life-saving fluids, but rather denoted their expirations dates. Instead of showering patients, I placed the disinfectant wipes in the warmer. Rather than performing CPR, I filled carts with supplies and stuffed folders with discharge papers. I did not do the saving, but I was present for it. I was part of something so much greater than myself, and though I have pride in the ways I served, I always felt humbled leaving the hospital, for I was a small, small being in a big building. In a world forever altered by the impact of COVID, I too was changed. I had seen the passion and persistence of healthcare workers. I had seen how they navigated difficulty, choosing their patients over their own needs, in displays of selflessness that rivaled even the most ultimate of sacrifices. I marvel at the continuity of their attendance to our community, for as a volunteer, I looked up to them. Their care was evident. Their skill was clear. Their strength was unfathomable. They served well, setting an example for how to love the community one is in.

Words: a seemingly mundane aspect of daily life. They are often repetitive, sometimes emotionless, and curiously overlooked. To many, they are letters on a page or sounds rolling off of a tongue. With the doubt of many in mind, my most ambitious artistic endeavor is to speak and write so beautifully, with such power, that I change a life. You see, I want to be a lawyer. I want to speak in a courtroom of people, standing squarely on the tile floor, and project my voice, my words, with such dignity and passion, that they captivate every one in the vicinity of hearing. I want my words to come to life, cutting silence and edging their way into the minds of all who dare listen. I want them to float lightly, but also to land loudly, on any who may need to feel their weight. Is that not a facet of art? Is art not surprising and impactful? Is it not something to remember? Is it not something that touches the deepest, darkest parts of a soul, reminding them that there is light? Choosing law as a career path is daring, I know. However, I want something as simple, yet as puissant, as my words to have the ability to save a life. Though not literally like in medicine, perhaps, my words could be the very thing standing between someone on the verge of breaking, their life possibly left in shambles after the decision is made. Is that not what art does? Does art not articulate something that seemed, at first, too difficult to allocate space to? Does it not voice shattering truths? Does it not minimize one's greatest fears by showing how small they are in comparison to something so great? Writing words, like speaking them, is an art in itself. Without the tone of the speaker, coupled with their body language and facial expressions, words can seem lifeless. However, I yearn to create images, to open the vault of emotions kept safe within walls built, and to soften, yet strengthen, the resolve of many. As I pen, or type, these words, with their sovereignty backing them, they create shapes. As paragraphs flow into pages, the sea of letters expanding, they articulate thoughts, emotions, and feelings. Is that not what art does? Is art not something of shapes, of lines, and of dots? Does art not flow and expand and take up space? Does it not give color to something previously as bleak as an empty page? So, though my art may look different than others in its format, let it my art, my words, touch hearts. Let it shatter barriers and save lives. Let it defy logic and describe the rawest emotions. Let it speak. This scholarship would help me attend a university fit to launch me towards a successful career in law. It would also give me the confidence of knowing that I too am an artist with a passion, and a voice, who it completely worthy of taking up space.

A text I received read, "I'm proud of you." It wasn't a paragraph with minutes of thought behind it. It wasn't an inquisitive phone call. Rather, it was a five word text. It was a text of acceptance, validation, and pride. Words are powerful: a known fact. But, perhaps, less is more. Instantly I paused. I read the text, then re-read it. It stopped me in my tracks. It was not meant to be motivation, but underneath the instant gratification I felt, I felt motivated. I wanted more. I wanted to make them proud. You see, pride, when coupled with determination, is a powerful force, I've realized. This text forced me into reflection. It opened my eyes to see not only where I was, but where I had come from. It shined a light upon the people back home, the people hanging on to every experience and victory I shared. It made me remember the ordinary days, the moments of chaos, and each step I had taken to get me to where I was. So, five words, strung together over text, is the quote I think of. It's simplicity struck me, and to this day I remember where I was when I first read it: the hallway of a hotel. Though often beautiful and flowy and poetic, the quotes we read from people of the past or idolized people of today are clouded by their sheer length. One can hardly remember the first words, let alone the motto in its entirety. Five words, however, can really stick with a person.