April 7, 2009

an excerpt from an email I sent earlier this morning to one of the many pieces of my heart: today has been harder than i had imagined and i will try to express myself in a blog this afternoon, it will be good for me to think things through a little, to express my sadness without blame, without regret, and to move deeper into gratitude and understanding. this is going to take a conscious shift.

April 7, 2009—the day I would give anything in exchange for another. that afternoon is when i received the news that would turn my life upside down. i remember wearing a new floral print dress to celebrate the changing season, the crisp, budding Spring day, and then suddenly collapsing to the pavement in front of wells fargo bank as I clutched my cell phone and cried, “why daddy why?” bones crushed to pavement. tears falling. my heart literally feeling as if it had left my body. emptiness. vulnerability. desperation. these are the feelings of my forever heartache– feelings that i have learned to live with and have decided to grow from. but its days like today when time only serves as a reminder of all the beautiful times that my brother should have been by our side, of all the wonderfully joyous moments meant for him to enjoy here on earth, all the goals left unfinished and the dreams, undreamt. and what beautiful dreams he dreamt, free of judgment, full of compassion.

to say that these past two years have been hard would be an understatement. these past two years have been devastating. its as if not only my heart has been crushed, but my soul, my being, has been shattered to pieces. putting these pieces of my soul back together has been an incredibly healing, empowering, and life affirming process. one that i assume will continue for lifetime. life is fluid, in a constant state of change, of flux. i take serenity in my brother’s gentle strength as i move forward, knowing that all he wants for each of us is to be happy. such a seemingly simple concept, yet such a difficult mode of being. for us all to be truly happy in our hearts, our souls. life without my brother has been difficult to navigate, and sometimes the sadness of losing him, and regret of not having done more to help him, and the anger at the world for being so heartless sometimes, are too much to bear. sometimes, all we can do is cry. and ive learned that that is okay.

this journey of piecing back together my soul has made me realize that everyone is on their own journey, and to have an immense amount of understanding and patience with others, with the earth, and with ourselves. to try to make sense of such a senseless thing is impossible, instead, i hope to honor my brother through my everyday actions and not seek a reason or a way to justify why he was taken from us too soon. that just is and it will never make sense to me, and it will never be justified. these past two years have been full of pain, but with this pain, has come a renewed sense of appreciation. the islands have never been so clear, the mountains so beautiful, our lives so precious. a true appreciation for not only life, but life after death as well…

i love you bro, and i miss you…

Collapsing in my mothers arms after the 36 hour journey…

to LAX I knew I was home. A safe haven of unconditional love. For the past five months I had lived outside of my comfort zone, always feeling a sense of being on guard, and for the first time I was able to collapse. To just be. To let go of my surroundings and embrace home in my mother’s arms. Thirty days have since passed and life is unraveling in beautiful and interesting ways. I’m learning how to incorporate my experiences in Chile with my life in Santa Barbara; the feeling of being abroad- the adventure, the curiosity, the vulnerability, the creative inspiration from living life with an open heart and mind, with the routine and familiarity of being home. Its like Ive been transplanted back into the life I had left six months ago, suddenly feeling like a foreigner walking in my own shoes, paving an unknown path, yearning to hold on to her exposed soul drenched in mother earth’s deep roots of gratitude. While recently talking with a close friend who returned home from being abroad about exactly this– harmonizing one’s experiences abroad with life at home– she said, “Laur, I don’t think its possible. Its like my life is here at home, but my heart is there abroad.” My heart sank; I knew exactly what she meant. My life is in Santa Barbara, not just life as in the mundane tasks of grocery shopping, paying bills, and such, but life as in my lifesource- my friends and family; my connections to my past, present, and future. But my heart, or I actually prefer to say my soul, is abroad, a place where it soaks up each drop of life like a sponge, captivated by the beauty of humanity. My soul thrives abroad- its heartbeat is in the wonder of Patagonia, its in my students’ smiles and greetings, its in the foreign language- pulsating unconditional gratitude. I am still hopeful that I can live more soul-centered here at home, successfully uniting my life with my soul. A friend described the soul as one’s inner-breath, I like this. I’ve begun to wonder how to get oxygen to my inner-breath, how to nourish it, how to tend to it. Writing. Hiking. Yoga. Love. Not necessarily being romantically in love with someone else, but instead being in love with oneself, with mother nature, even with strangers passing on the street. For the first time in nearly seven years I am single and it has been an incredible time to reconnect with myself, to rediscover my inner-breath. In a note written by me to me the first week I arrived in Chile I said: “Allow yourself to be free, to fully experience the vitality of life, of Chile, of new experiences and new dreams…Please be comforted by your guardian angel, know that he embraces you each day with infinite compassion and love. Please hold yourself close and open to others. Much, much love to you and your dreams. The magic is within.” My time in Chile reconfirmed what I was discovering when I first arrived…that the true magic is within.

I suck at goodbyes and this past week as been full of them…

I’d rather just sneak out the back door and leave behind a sweet note, or perhaps feign sickness and send a quick email instead. This week has been the toughest yet in Chile- I have had to say goodbye to my students. And this time around, I have been an active participant in my goodbyes. It all started this past Thursday with my last class with primero medio (my 9th graders). As I do for every class, I was waiting at the door to greet each student as they enter my classroom. This time all 45 primero medios came racing to my classroom with arms wide open to give me a hug. They filtered into my classroom, chanting “no te vayas! no te vayas!” (don’t go!). There was not a dry eye in the classroom as I said my thank yous, a few of my students totally broke down in tears. And for those who know me, when other people cry, the tears automatically start falling, fast. I had always known how much my students meant to me, but I hadn’t realized how much I meant to them. The following classes were the same as I said my goodbyes, a whole lot of laughter, gratitude, and tears. For my cuatro medio (seniors) I gave them each a rose with a handwritten note that read: You must be the change you wish to see in the world. -Gandhi. My students created a official “Miss Lauren Fan Club” on Facebook, thats how cute they are. Coming here I never imagined how much my students would change my life, to see their smiles shining so brightly even in the face of adversity has given me a renewed sense of hope in the world.

I am now traveling through the South of Chile with my fellow WorldTeachers. Our first stop was Patagonia which was absolutely amazing. We saw the huge glacier in Calafate, Argentina, we trekked through the beautiful mountains of Torres del Paine, and we saw the penguins in Punta Arenas. I am now in Chiloe, a beautiful, magical island, and am about to head out to the feria. I will be off the charts until I come home on the 12th, so until then, I send much love to everyone back home.

I have been home, not home home as in Santa Barbara, but…

home as in Penablanca, for a week now. I returned to Chile last Monday from an amazing adventure in Mendoza, the wine country of Argentina, a journey that took me up and over the Andes Mountains. It was so incredible that it left me speechless, literally. I’ve had writer’s block this entire week; every time I have attempted to capture my experiences in an entry, all the right words seem to escape me. This is my third blogging attempt; we’ll see how it goes. I’m not even quite sure where to start, except to say I have never felt so at home in a new city. For me, home is where my heart feels exposed, where my soul feels safe, and where all my senses come alive; where simply being me is genuinely welcomed, maybe even adored. To put my thumb on exactly what it was about Mendoza that made me feel so at home is difficult; maybe it was the lush, over-grown tree-lined streets, or the abundance of adorable ma & pa outdoor cafes. Or perhaps it was the insanely beautiful smiles on some of the most sweetest people I have ever met, or the beautifully maintained parks and immaculately clean streets, or it quite possibly could have been the cheap artisan leather handbags sold at every street corner, which of course I couldn’t resist; I’m not sure what exactly it was, but I do know how the city made me feel; for the first time I felt as if a city’s heartbeat matched my own.

What I had imagined would be a weekend getaway complete with a wine tasting, bike tour through the Argentinian vineyards turned into an action-packed paragliding adventure over the city of Mendoza. When we stumbled out of the bus after a 20 hour ride through the Andes, I had one thing on my mind– a delicious, hearty glass of red wine, followed by another, and another. My visions were crushed as I found out that the wineries were closed, and would be for the entire weekend. I cursed the bus ride that took 14 hours longer than normal, thanks to a snow storm that closed the only road through the Andes and left us stranded at the base of the mountain, only about an hour or two outside of Santiago. As we settled into the hostel, we all stared blankly at the activity board which boasted wine tours, paragliding adventures, and horseback rides. Maureen suggested paragliding and immediately we all jumped at the idea– paragliding it was!

I hopped in the back of a pick-up truck with a few of the other girls and our guides. As we scaled the edge of the mountain and slowly climbed up the steep, dirt road to reach the highest peak with the sole intention of jumping off it, I was memorized by the view and my butterflies subsided. As I was getting suited up, my guide gave me very simple instructions: “run for take off. sit down once we are off ground. and enjoy!”. Before I knew it, he was yelling “run!!!” and off we went, caught in a breeze and launched high into the sky. Much to my surprise, the wind caught hold of not only our parachute, but also my clothes, my jacket and shirt were nearly up over my head after take off! Lets just say that I’m thankful there was no video recording this adventure. The ride was an intense juxtaposition of the opposites– comforting and terrifying, freeing and restricting, relaxing and nerve-wrecking. While soaring through the sky I kept trying to find a balance, consciously reminding myself of the comforting, freeing, and relaxing aspects of being hundreds of feet in the air, strapped to not only a complete stranger, but one that spoke a different language, all the while conquering one of my fears– my fear of heights. After a few minutes in the air I became more comfortable and gave two thumbs up when my guide asked if I would like some air acrobatics. We spun, twirled, and looped our way around the mountains and over the city. When I finally felt completely comfortable we were already on our way back down. We smoothly landed and once both feet were securely on the ground I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude and good luck.

If I could change the world…

This is a list compiled from my 6th, 7th, 8th, and 9th graders. I explained the prompt: “If I could change the world…” and here’s what they came up with:

- I would turn the sky orange and purple.
- everyone would have a home.
- no one would go to bed hungry.
- there would be more beautiful boys and less ugly ones.
- there would be more respect for women.
- everyone would have health care.
- there would be less drugs and more peace.
- I would have Miss Lauren stay in Chile forever.
- there would be less reggaeton and more heavy metal.
- there would be education for everyone.
- there would be less robbery and violence.
- there would be more respect for nature.

Here are a few from my 11th and 12 graders:

- there would be less violence and more communication.
- there would be less discrimination and more respect.
- there would be more wine for everyone!
- there would be more conscience in the people.
- 2Pac and Eazy-E would be reborn.

Their dreams and visions are humbling, reviving, and wise beyond their years. I also included a few that I thought were pretty creative and funny. I feel very blessed to spend each day with such beautiful young souls who give me hope for a more peaceful and just future.

“Be the change you wish to see in the world”- Gandhi.

get the xmas decorations out & the cocktails in order because….

this chica will be home just in time for the Holidays! That’s right, I will arrive in Santa Barbara on Sunday, December 12th, and will so be ready for some serious Christmas cheer complete with pumpkin pie Blenders, martinis at the McGuires, and a whole lot of cozy evenings spent around my fireplace with all of you! I can’t believe how fast the time has flown by here in Chile; in just three short weeks I am done teaching, in four weeks I am participating in the Chilean Ministry of Education’s closing ceremony and WorldTeach’s End of Service, and in five weeks I will be adventuring throughout the South of Chile with some of my fellow WorldTeachers! As I think of my journey returning home, I am reminded of the everyday things that keep life interesting here in Chile; if you are ever planning to visit, you will want to take note of the following:

1. At all times have at least 150 pesos with you and a roll of toilet paper. Okay, maybe you don’t need a whole roll of toilet paper, but be sure to carry some tissue paper, at the very least. The 150 pesos is the going-rate for public restrooms, yes you have to pay. And most restrooms are not equipped with toilet paper, much less toilet seat covers, thus the reason for toting it around everywhere. Also, please befriend the little trashcan beside the toilet as you will learn that the plumbing here in Chile is very old and not able to flush toilet paper.

2. Get to know the micro (bus) system. Well, I shouldn’t exactly call it a “system” because that implies some sort of structure or schedule. Here in Chile, the micros are fantastic, as long as you gather the courage to flag one down and hold on for dear life. And by fantastic, I mean cheap, dependable, and fun. Oftentimes micros will race other micros to the next bus stop; the race usually entails cutting each other off, crossing double yellow lines, and blowing through red lights. Everyday I get on the micro, its a new adventure.

3. Chileans love pan (white bread); its a staple here. Every morning for breakfast and every night for dinner I have a pancito (white bread with turkey and cheese). Some days we will have pancitos with jam, or manjar, or avocado. Some days the white bread is a nice fresh baguette, other days it is a flat disk or square shape. Undoubtedly you will have your fair share of pan while you are here, but while in Chile you must also try chorillana, terremotos, and alfajores; chorillana is a plate full of french fries covered in meat and topped with a fried egg; terremotos (literally translates to earthquakes) are a wonderfully dangerous concoction of organic distilled white wine, two scoops of pineapple ice cream, and grenadine; alfajores are a chocolate dipped pastry with a manjar filling. Enjoy!

This will have to be a “to be continued” list! I’m off to bed for an 8am class tomorrow!

This one’s for all the teachers out there…

How do you do it? No, seriously. How, day after day, year after year, do you expend so much energy and creativity in the classroom? How, night after night, weekend after weekend, do you invest most of your free time lesson planning and prepping for your next class? Because after just three short months, I am absolutely exhausted! My once superhero delantal that I wore so proudly has been torn, tattered, littered with stickers, and marked with every color pen imaginable. And as I lay here in bed, flabbergasted at how you all do it, I also want to say thank you. Thank you for your tireless dedication to education and for not only sharing your days with your students, but also for giving a piece of your hearts so freely, so tenderly. I must admit that I wasn’t too sure how the whole teaching thing would work out for me before I arrived to Chile. I had never been much of a “kid-person” and my patience was easily tested and defeated, to say the least. I cringed at wailing toddlers and avoided adolescents at all costs, perhaps my unconsciousness protecting me from junior high school memories? The braces, the “cool crowd”, the cholas always trying to pick fights, you know how it goes. I entered my first class doubtful, a little awkward I’m sure, and anxious; I left feeling so revived, incredibly inspired, and anxious for my next class to begin. Although this time it wasn’t anxious, as in the I-feel-sick-to-my-stomach, get-me-out-of-here anxiousness, it was an excitement, a curiosity, a hopefulness. Now, three months and a few days later, I still leave each class with the same heap full of hopefulness. I don’t quite skip around campus as I used to, remember, I’m exhausted!, and the newness of Miss Lauren has worn off. But in all honesty, I have become attached to my students, and have begun to think that maybe I am one of “them” after-all, you know, a “kid-person” . As I reflect on my teaching experience I want to share with you an an edited excerpt from my very first blog entry dated July 15, 2010:

The inequalities of the education system here is devastating. I can only hope to increase my students’ chances of succeeding against all the odds systemically stacked against them. I wholeheartedly look forward to empowering Chilean students to advocate for their own educational and economic success.

As I have gotten to know my students, I have learned of their stories, of their hardships, of their heartbreaks. I am reminded that if my students do not hop, skip, and jump to my class everyday, it is not a personal attack, it is because they are simply too tired from their busy schedules. If normally loud and engaged students do not want to participate one day, it does not mean my lesson plan has completely bombed, it is because they probably have something going on outside of my class that’s more important. This past week, a usually personable student who always participates in class refused to engage in any classroom activities. I stopped the class and politely emphasized my three simple rules posted on the wall: respect, English only, and participate, paying particular attention to the last one. I then of course reminded them of the consequences of not following the rules- the yellow “warning” card and dreaded red card which sends them immediately back to class with my co-teacher. My students are familiar with the yellow and red cards because they are used in soccer; whenever I pull a yellow card from my bag the room is suddenly so quiet you can hear flies buzzin’ about. After class was over, the student who refused to participate came up to me and said in Spanish: “Miss Lauren, I’m so sorry for being bad today. I am going through some hard times. My grandmother is really, really sick.” She then gave me a huge hug. In our embrace I felt my heart melt. It’s so easy to forget what challenges my students are facing, what their realities are at home, and I feel very, very grateful that my students feel safe and comfortable enough to open up to me; they have shown me what it truly means to have an open heart.

El Milagro- The Miracle of the Miners!

This past week a miracle happened here in Chile which has put us in the International News spotlight– 33 miners who were trapped for 69 days under over 2,000 feet of stone were rescued; all surfaced in good spirits. As the last miner was was lifted to safety, my Chilean brother, sister and I danced around the television, singing the national anthem. It has been an incredible reminder that despite all our differences, people from different countries all around the world can relate to human emotions of despair and hope, of fear and joy. For me, this is a much welcomed shift from the “us vs. them” mentality and I feel very grateful to share in the overwhelming pride and joy of Chile, a country which has only welcomed me with open arms. What an amazing time to be living here…

Chi Chi Chi, le le le VIVA CHILE!

Cocooned in the night’s sky…

Cocooned in the night’s sky, facing Jupiter with my back towards the smiling moon; the two poised directly across from each other, balancing the stars and galaxies so perfectly, so naturally. The Milky Way, a vast wool blanket, humbling and warming, magnifying the existence of the unknown. Embraced by the Andes Mountains I laid on the lounge chair reflecting on my journey to Valle de Elqui; on the twenty-five year journey that brought me to this magical place to lay under the stars and feel assured that life is unfolding as it is meant to be. I thought of the delightful arroz con leche helado I enjoyed on the church steps that morning while watching the elaborate ceremony for the Virgin Maria (Mary). I remembered the friendly faces that greeted us in La Serena and Pisco Elqui; Andres- we knocked at his door (Hostel Casa Maria) at 6:30am after an overnight bus ride, hoping for a place to stay. Dressing himself as he stumbled to the door, he welcomed us in from the cold. Instead of shooing us out the door because he did not have an open room, he called every connection in town to secure a room for us. He introduced us to Antonio, the sweetest abuelo (grandpa) who welcomed us with open warms when we arrived at Hotel Jofre. And Martin and Kayla- we met them over an open campfire at Rustika, only to find out Martin’s family owned the restaurant. Over several terremotos, alfajores, and even a trip to the pisco distillery, we all knew we had made two new friends. I remembered the bumpy early morning bus ride through the valley, admiring the thick mystical fog and bright green vineyards that lined the dull brown hills. I thought of the vendors selling beautiful handmade copper earrings and colorful artisan handbags. As I looked up at the skies with my naked eye, I thought of the view I had seen earlier through a telescope, of the four moons of Jupiter now invisible, of the clusters of bright distinct stars now appearing as one fuzzy light. I got a glimpse of all my students who gathered for an assembly the morning of my birthday to sing me Happy Birthday, of mi familia who surprised me with a lemon meringue birthday cake, and of the few students who brought me regalitos (gifts). I felt the presence of my parents, wishing I could give them a big huge birthday hug, and of my brother, whose beautiful spirit glowed so magnificently in the night’s sky. I reached out to hold my brother’s hand, to soar through the galaxies with him. I told him how lucky I am to always be his little sister, no matter how old I got. Its in these moments, under the stars, when I feel life’s magic and wonder.

My life is like a feather…

a white, fluffy, soft feather; delicately shimmering in the breeze, subject to the wind’s direction, to the celestial forces at play; one moment plunging towards Earth with fierce intensity, and the next tenderly caught in an upwards current- set free in the interplay. The ups and downs; the ebbs and flows. Like the sweet breeze contained within a note from one of my 8th graders, lifting me from crashing with frustration after a bombed lesson plan. Here is what the note said:

Did you choose this life? the life of adventure?/ because I’m interested about a soul like you, like me,/ sometimes I think the only things that matter are the dreams/the feelings, the poetry, the music about the sky,/ (I know, I’m a little crazy)/ but if I wasn’t crazy this life would be so boring.

Amazing, huh? The beauty in her words is absolutely breathtaking; I keep this note on my nightstand as wings when I need a lift and as roots when I need some grounding. Her words, my treasures. This week another subtle gust saved me from an afternoon of dismay after yet one more unpleasant visit to the Civil Registry. Every time I have gone to the Civil Registry in hopes of getting my carnet (official Chilean I.D. card) I have left an absolute mad-woman, literally. I fly out of the building like a bat out of Hell, reckless and fuming, audibly saying every cuss word in the book as I march back down to the train station. I’m sure the next time I return, which is actually tomorrow, (yes, I am tempting fate and going on my birthday; I am hopeful) the street vendors and students at the nearby high school will clear the pathway in fear of the mad-woman; and yes, its that bad. This past Tuesday was no different and I left in a fury, with tears in my eyes and a whole mouthful of ugliness spewed all over the road on my designated march back to the train station. I was tempted to skip my last class of the day and crawl into bed, but instead headed back to school. Unaware of the time, I sat silently in the school courtyard, still playing with the idea of going home when two of my students approached me and said: “Miss Lauren. The teacher is not here. We want to come to your class.” For background, when a teacher does not go to class for one reason or another, whether they are sick or in a meeting, the class is left to its own demise with little supervision from the school inspector. These two students did not want to miss my class and came to ask if they could come even though the teacher did not send them. I said: “Of course! Bring ten more students and meet in my classroom.” The thirteen of us shared an incredible class that day, and once again I left class wondering if I am learning more from my students than they are learning from me. Another gust of wind in the form of a delicious fresh-squeezed glass of juice came to swoop me up just in time. Last Friday I headed to Valparaiso to join in on the Festival de Mil Tambores, Festival of a 1,000 Drums, celebrations. After a long week of teaching, I was exhausted, but felt something pulling me to go out and play. When I arrived to Valpo, I stopped by a vegetarian cafe in the centro filled with hipster intellectuals buzzing with creative energy, I began reminiscing of memories in Berkeley, CA. A quick stop turned into a delightful hour as I slowly sucked down my strawberry, ginger, and cardamom juice through the neon yellow straw, tripping on the flavors that danced on my tongue. The magic potion somehow made me whole again; my heart, my soul skipped to the Festival and I felt at home. Sometimes, when it seems like my spirit is collapsing, something is always there to pick it up; the interplay of life’s current is so beautiful, so freeing.