365 Days Of Love. Day 143

Since the start of the school year, I've been substituting in two Science classes. In the ambiguity of my librarian position, I've found comfort in the (relative) concrete structures of a classroom and the expectations inherently set by the four walls that enclose science-y desks occupied by young adult learners. 

Both yesterday and today, I was nearly in tears by the time my after lunch Chemistry class started. It's not my students or my non-classroom or the overwhelming piles of books that are stressing me out, but rather, it's my inability to connect necessary dots, the dots that lead to built relationships and "eureka" moments in 14 year olds. Yes, yesterday and today have marked every insecurity in bold marker. They have made me question not only my ability to work in a school but also my ability to make a decision that I can actually live with. 

Until Chemistry class commences. 

Within the first minutes of Chemistry, the 4 students in my class make me feel entirely at ease. They remind me I'm not speaking in a foreign language, incomprehensible to anyone under the age of 23. More than anything, though, they remind me why I am here. They remind me that within the walls of Crazy Horse School there lies leaders, potential, humanitarians, advocates, presidents, the faces of justice in the coming years, authors, and radio broadcasters, musicians, and artists. They remind me that in the walls of the school, there lies 

love

love to be given, love to be taken, love to be learned. 

365 Days Of Love. Day 142

I value company, more than almost anything else, I love the company of people.

I had every intention of sleeping in on Saturday morning. I knew my grandma, aunt, mom, and nephew would be there late morning so I planned my run for the afternoon and I tried really really hard to sleep past 7. In my attempt to prolong my morning sleeping, I even extended my usual 10 o' clock bedtime by two hours, which almost never happens. Despite every effort to extend my zzzs, I had three cups of coffee downed and my entire house cleaned (again) before 7:45. My ensuing visitors induced Christmas-like excitement. When they pulled in, every bit of excitement was well warranted.

With my visitors, came pots and herb seeds to plant, a new lamp, coasters, food (copious amounts of food), and best of all, the hugs and smiles and voices and eyes that bring me the most comfort. They brought with them reassurance that I am supported. They brought with them

love.

The love that I so desperately need.

365 Days of Love. Day 141

I was responding to an e-mail from a friend in which I was attempting to give words to my inner feelings about my new job, home, life. At one point, when articulating the condition of the library, I wrote something along the lines of


"there are books that haven't been checked out in our entire lifetime, books that are buried in dust, books that have no bindings. It's hard, I love books, but I also know the ultimate goal is to create a space that kids love and want to be in. To that end, I've had to get rid of a lot of books (which is hard) and there's still so much "cleaning out" to do."




Literally, as my fingers found the keys that created those lines, I thought to myself




this is life.



Not, this is life, pull yourself up by your bootstraps and be an American, but this is life, a continual "cleaning out." When I think about the things that most starkly cultivated me as the person I am today, I'm reminded of the "cleaning out" that had to happen for me to discover the beauty beneath those things. When I struggled with insecurities after a few unfortunate events, my mind, body, and soul all had to undergo purification. It takes time and sometimes self-doubt and renewed insecurities extend the initial timeline, but it is this  commitment to cleanse the spirit and soul that develops us as humans, develops humanity. It is these times, when my bearings are ambiguously defined, that areas of dirt are more apparent and subsequent cleaning is inherent.



This is life, cleaning and putting faith in an unseen product, being present for the process of purification.

365 Days Of Love. Day 140

It's amazing how much the little things mean when the big things are void. 

The sight of 5 6th grade girls writing

The fielding of questions rooted in curiosity

The stories of hopeful teenagers, the stories of resilient future leaders

The hug of a bouncy second grader

The conversation of coworkers

The laugh of those who are stressed

The slap of my feet on the highway 

The compliments of newly introduced friends

The excitement of little ones

The voice of a timid little girl

Love resides in the "little" things. 

365 Days Of Love. Day 139

It's amazing how easily self-doubt can eradicate security.

When I interviewed for my current position, I'm certain I radiated confidence. Had I not, they likely wouldn't have hired an inexperienced Librarian when they were still in need of teachers. For the first week of inservice, that confidence didn't falter much. I've always known that I'm not nearly as dewey decimal-y as I should be, but I never doubted my abilities to scan books, get kids excited about reading, and host fun parent nights and book clubs.

Until today.

I was so encouraged by the process my mom, grandma, and I made in the library over the weekend, but today, when students and teachers and parents briefly passed, I was embarrassed by the mess and I wondered if people understood that the library has been dormant for quite some time and this overhauling process is (I think) necessary and that I'm not a messy personorunorganizedorunpreparedorapatehtic.

Self- doubt, I hate you.

Self, I'm trying really hard to love you.

365 Days of Love. Day 138

In confusion and exhaustion, under books, and engulfed in the sadness of an unjust reality, I rely on one truth, humanity is deserving of love. The kids I see tomorrow, the co-workers I encounter, the stranger in the car I pass on my run, they are all worthy of love and in them lies the power and ability to cultivate a greater love. 

The job of being human is to love. 

In the saddest of realities, under the heavy blanket of injustice, in they eyes of hopeless, there lies the ability to 

love

and in that love lies the hope for the soul of humanity, the soul of us all. 

365 Days Of Love. Day 137

By Friday at 4:30, I was ready to not look at another Encyclopedia or Dick and Jane book in my life. The cracks in my dry skin were quickly feeling with dust spewed from books untouched for years. My throat itched and in my nose perpetually resided the smell of dingy paper longing for human touch. In the week I had been employed by Crazy Horse School, I seemed to have only made a bigger mess in the library. I am the girl that spent the summer dusting and vacuuming my parents' house multiple times a week. Messes and I are best when we don't meet, truly.

I'm not sure if my mom and grandma know me so well that they predicted my spirit's somberness or if they were anxious to see me and participate in my new endeavor. Either way, when they pulled into my driveway on Friday evening, I could not have been more grateful. Their arrival could not have been more needed.

After unpacking the plethora of goods they brought me (Q-tips, food, first aid items..), we took a stroll around my (very small) neighborhood. We nestled into bed relatively early and awoke Friday, more or less, ready to tackle the library. In their defense, they were certainly more ready and I was definitely less. Regardless, we took cleaning supplies and decor to the school and after a quick tour, we approached the library with an (initially) patient spirit. In the early stages of our day, I'm sure I dropped more F bombs than my grandmother ever wanted to hear and sighed frustratedly too frequently to signal any sort of productivity.

As the day progressed, though, thanks to my mom's ability to ignite a vision and my grandma's horse-like work ethic, the room de books actually started to (remotely) look like a library. At the end of the day, I apologized for literally being the worst version of myself as I looked at the beginning of what will hopefully be a wonderful space for kids.

I'm so spoiled. My mom and grandma each have lives that they chose to share with me this weekend. I'm certain they could have done a slew of other things (like keep my dad and grandpa company), but they chose to drive 3 hours, sleep in less than comfortable conditions, and carry, dust, and sort books that are in dire need of TLC.

They taught me that love is working....together.

365 Days Of Love. Day 136

On the first day of inservice, we had a Cultural Competency Training. Many of the things spoken about struck a chord with me, but I wildly intrigued by one thing the speaker said. She shared that quietness is respectful. At the time, the statement juggled around in my head. I spent two years rallying 14 year olds around the idea of their voice as a means of empowerment and change. Quietness is nearly foreign to me. Subsequently, I struggled, initially, understand quietness any sort of trait I would want to teach my students or even adopt for myself.

Then, I came to a realization. When we're always trying to be heard, we can't hear other people. When we can't hear other people, we're limiting the rate at which we as human can evolve. To that end, I've been trying really hard to be quiet and listen. For those of you who know me well, I can see your skewed faces. Natalie? Quiet? Pahlease, this is the girl that hugs random people at wedding dances and openly broaches subjects regarded as "personal" and "private." Really, though, I've made a considerable effort at quietness and in it, I've learned to really love listening, actually listening.

So often, I listen disingenuously, waiting for my turn to speak while simultaneously crafting a witty and intelligent sounding response. Ultimately, I'm not really listening, I'm pulling away key points only to have a boxing match conversation with my companion. Lately, though, I've given up on conjuring incredible responses. It's been refreshing and more importantly, it's been a reminder of the beauty of people. People have so much to say and so much of what they have to say is a peak into their soul and I'm grateful for those little looks.

The past few days have literally been a whirlwind and for the first time in my life, I've quietly blown with it. It's been a lovely little ride.

365 Days Of Love. Day 135

Sometimes faith is the hardest thing to have, the hardest thing to hold onto. Today, I started sifting through the mounds of books that will eventually line the shelves of what I’m hoping will be a wonderfully inviting and engaging library. As my fingers combed through some books that were older than my grandparents, I thought (over and over)

What a mess…

Then, I started questioning my ability to turn around the library. How will I label the thousands of books that are in there? How will I ensure that our students are falling in love with literacy and, in turn, embarking on their journey to self-discovery?

How will I do this at all?

I have yet to have a major meltdown. In fact, I’ve remained relatively calm so far despite the fact that I am friendless, in a new place, and attempting to be incredible at a job I have little experience with. I think these are generally the factors that lead to the break down of self. This time, though, as I commence on a seemingly blind path, I’m reminded of faith.

I’m reminded of my student Jorge, from my first year teaching, and his remarks, “Miss, at the beginning of the year, we were animals, but you changed us into good students who love to read.” My students could have chosen over and over to lose faith in me. Lord knows I let them down enough that any questions they had about my authority or teaching competency were certainly warranted. They chose to have faith in me, though. More importantly, they chose to have faith in themselves, to believe that they were capable of changing their future, despite their past, if they worked hard.

So, my hands, littered with dust from old books and unused shelves, my heart, heavy with responsibility and expectations, and my mind, busy with the seemingly endless “to do” list that inherently accompanies this time of year, are relying on faith. Faith that this is where I am supposed to be and this is what I am supposed to be doing. Faith that the room in the upper corner of an old school will, in fact, be a functionable library sooner rather than later. And, faith, that somewhere in my free spirited self, the abilities lie to ensure visions become a reality, ensure these kids are given the space they deserve. 

365 Days Of Love. Day 134

Last year at this time, I was sitting with my roommate, Jade, at McDonalds writing a vision for my classroom. I remember remotely complaining (while eating cookies drenched in coffee) about the six-page template I had to complete. After I submitted it to my mentor, I sighed seeing the expected revisions and re-workings that inevitably needed to take place. Ultimately, though, my vision became the driving force of my classroom. It dictated the questions I asked my students, the lessons I planned, the pacing of the stories we read. It eventually became our source of flight, the words that gave us wings.

Last week, I wrote the vision for the library in which I’ll be working. To be entirely transparent, my experience in libraries is profoundly limited. I’ve spent a considerable amount of time reading, taking notes, and studying in libraries, but as far as the inner-workings of the seemingly all-knowing information sources, I’m nearly naïve. Like my experience as a teacher, I have grand ideas and the inherent visionary in me wants to run wild with projects and community nights, but I’m struggling to break my ideas down into actions steps. Even more, I don’t even know what to prioritize and the writer in me wants to immediately commence learning the stories of my new community and save solo library time for the weekends. Despite not knowing where to start, my two years in the classroom taught me that having a vision was essential. So, when my new principal requested I submit a vision to him, I (nerdily) jolted with excitement. I love responsibility and, even more, I love envisioning, even if the steps to vision matriculation are a bit ambiguous.

In the process of writing a vision for the library, riding on persistent reflection of the past two years, I considered this: I might not know what to do right now, I might not know the ideal timeline that leads to a rocking (absolutely not drab) library, but I do know it’s important to create a meaningful vision that I’m passionate about ensuring becomes a reality. I love so many parts of the school year, but I love this part so much because it my time to really craft my source of strength, to wind wonderful words into a vision that will give deserving people wings, that will help me to spread my wings, that will dictate this year. I love this time of year because it molds the rest of the year and I love having the choice to create a mold that will lead people, wonderful people, to discover their value and run with their passions. A mold that will be broken when people

fly. 

365 Days Of Love. Day 133

The start of something new.

It honestly doesn’t feel like I’m starting work tomorrow. I’m not sure if its because I know inservice won’t be accompanied by breakfast tacos and a Christ-themed inspirational video or if its because I went from being unemployed to employed so rapidly or if its because I’m the closest I’ve been to home in a really long time. Whatever the reason, I’m definitely starting something new tomorrow despite feeling like I’m about to stroll into something I’m a professional at.

Tomorrow, I will attempt to remember the names of the people I’m going to be working with. I will commence the transformation of a library. I will begin learning a new and exciting job in a new and exciting environment.

Today, I am truly unattached in every sense of the word and tomorrow, I’ll be ultimately attached to a new community. The exploration of this home in my home’s relative backyard will begin and that doesn’t feel like work, it feels like an adventure.

I’ve never been so calm when starting something new. Perhaps this is the calm before the storm or, more likely, this is what it feels like to follow the omens the Universe provides. Either way, I love that I get to

start something new

365 Days Of Love. Day 132

I laid the ground works for a new home in my old home intermixed with facets of my most recent home.

Translation?

I moved to Pine Ridge. The westerly drive on I-90 is inherently freeing. The open space and mountains beckon independence from my innermost parts, taunt me with promises of challenges and triumphs. When I walked into my new home, though, I was overwhelmed with the dust, unexplained dampness of the carpets, broken out windows, and the dingy smell. I didn’t question what I was doing here or why I came here, I didn’t freak out (although I did spend near 40 dollars on febreeze). Instead, I cleaned. I reminded myself that I chose my new home. And that choice, is a privilege as is the ease I can escape to my parents’ house or jet to my family’s house less than two hours away. The dinginess of my new home, echoed by the extreme closeness of my old home served as a reminder that this has always been my home. South Dakota, all of South Dakota, is my home.

When I chose to move to Pine Ridge, accepting it as it is, hoping to disover it’s innate beauty, I chose to explore more of my home.

As I was unpacking today, I came across a few things my mentor in Texas left me when we said our goodbyes. I adorned my kitchen with her notecards, pictures, and stories. They serve as reminders of my most recent home on the border of Texas and Mexico. The home that taught me the value of a story and the true beauty of humanity, the home that encouraged me to write, to find my voice, to use my words. The home that made me vehemently passionate about the empowerment of people and communities.

This is my new home. It isn’t ideal…yet. My amazing parents are collaborating with me to make it eclectic and eccentric, to make it…me. This home holds promise, though. It is old, it is new, it is recent and I’m confident that is a potent combination.

A loving

A mysterious

A combination 

365 Days Of Love. Day 131

Nothing is more incomprehensible than love, nothing is more beautiful or more special.

On Saturday afternoon, one of my best friends said "I do" on the shores of a river under the soft eyes of trees in the company of friends and family and nature. As Ash and Chad read their vows to each other, words picked personally for one another, tears literally streamed down my face and I thought

this is love, this is real

This may come as a surprise to some, but there are few couples I look at and say, "I want that." In fact, most of the time, I think, "I absolutely don't want that for myself." On Saturday, though, watching my best friend fuel the sun with a smile induced by the handsome man standing across from her, I thought

 this love is special

Their vows spoke of the positivity each inherently brought out in the other. Witnessing their vows, seeing their smiles, I knew that these two people were absolutely meant to be together. I knew that the union between the two of them created a love that made the Universe smile, sing.

Such love is incomprehensible. How does it happen? Who created it? Why do some people choose to deny it? Such questions need no answers because

this love is real.

365 Days Of Love. Day 130

I think mountains tell a story. If you consider the towering mass of land, there’s nothing incredibly ravishing about the concept of a mountain. Big, tall, heads of land that reach higher than the valleys and plains surrounding them.  When you see them, though, and swivel through the roads the spilt them, the mountain’s majesty is undeniable.

I love traveling West, I love seeing mountains in the distance, chasing them down, and then staring at them briefly as I cruise by. In their simplicity, mountains are beautiful. In their innate ability to stand out, they capture their audience. Mountains have not been formed by man, mountains are the result of nature, they are exactly what they were created to be.

I feel like humans sometimes lack our natural state, the state we were innately created to live in, breath in, connect in. Sometimes, I feel like we’ve forgotten the importance of standing out, the importance of recognizing our natural beauty and then, living in it. Mountains are forced to live as they were created to be, majestic. We, though, have a choice.

What if we lived like the mountain? What if we sought to be innately human?

Being human is being lovely, standing out and up and majestically for our service to one another. It is choosing to love, choosing to be kind, choosing to seek our passions, knowing and trusting that when everyone does the same, the Universe will breath evenly.

The mountains are innately profound. We, though, we get to choose it, choose to be inherently human, choose to be naturally majestic, choose to love. 

365 Days Of Love. Day 129

Road trips and weddings and friends as close as family.

2012 Summer wedding season started with the nuptials of one of my best friend's, Brittany. On Saturday, it will end with another dear friend's wedding, Ashley. I adore weddings. As I've grown up with my friends, I've stockpiled memories and laughter and, sometimes, tears. I've said goodbye too many times, but have been welcomed backed with the most gracious hellos.

Today, my sweet friend Katie and I are starting our westerly trek to Washington for Ash's wedding. At the beginning of every journey, I feel excitement beyond explanation. The road is certain to offer us adventure and grace.

Today, starts the beginning of the end of my summer, and it couldn't look more promising.