Remembering

2019, A Year in Review

Arielle Miller / Abundance, Acceptance, Accountability, Adventure, anger, Central Coast, Central Coast California, Challenges, Community, Fitness, Motivation Monday, Remembering, Santa Ynez Valley, School, Teacher Life, Teaching, Updates, Yoga / 2020, Change is Hard, Honest reflections, Leaving Los Angeles, Motivation Monday, New Year, New Years Resolution, Reflecting on 2019, Reflections, To Live and Die in LA, Year in Review, Yoga / 3 comments

January 6, 2020

If you told me at the start of 2019 what the year held in store for me, I would not have believed you. At this point, I think it’s safe to say that things have reached a point where I can only laugh, because if I do not laugh, then I will cry and that certainly won’t change what has happened in the last 12 months.

Over the course of 2019, I was forced to address tremendous obstacles including the death of friends and family, moving away from Los Angeles to move to Santa Ynez to begin teaching at Lompoc High School, and struggled to acclimate to life in a small town while being ‘The New Teacher’ in a rural agricultural community. Without a support network and stronghold in a fitness community, I grappled with accepting the choices that I made to commit to this move, and found myself overrun by regret.

I felt that by leaving Los Angeles, I ‘walked away’ from a life I built. As my plans and dreams unraveled before my eyes, this itch my husband and I just haaaaaaaad to scratch seemed to blister and fester into a gaping wound.

As I attempted to navigate all sorts of emotions surging through my mind, the most persistent one, was anger. I was angry at myself, angry at my husband, angry at the people who moved my husband and I here. And above all, I was enraged with The Universe for conspiring to get us here.

As my frustrations mounted with respects to the direction of my life, doubt crept into my soul and passions such as my yoga practice fell by the wayside. At one point, my yoga practice waned to nearly non-existent which had a devastating impact on my psyche, overall mental health, and spirituality. Then, next to go was my fitness. With no cohesive fitness community in the Santa Ynez Valley, I felt a massive void in my life. The gym, taking classes, teaching classes, chatting with members, meeting new people, socializing with fellow instructors, having access to such high-end, state of the art facilities, and just being immersed in that scene left me without the motivation to bring myself to push myself to the limits needed to challenge myself physically. Finally, I just stopped doing things that brought me joy all together. And not because I was too busy or discovered new interests, but none other than the simple fact that I was crippled by regretting a decision I had made [ahem, moving to the country] and my depression set in.

I started neglecting the things that I previously garnered happiness from like my social media, drawing, writing, and recording podcast episodes. Any semblance of self-care disappeared [aside from keeping up with my roots that is] until I stepped up to coach the Girls Wrestling team at Lompoc High School…it was not until this point that I presumed all was lost, I can now see what I gained. I gained experiences that shaped me, that showed me what I need and want in this world. Spending my afternoons and weekends coaching the most badass group of gals I’ve ever met has transformed me. There are no words to convey how darn special my wrestling girls are to me. Coaching my small team of misfits gave me renewed purpose and if I am being candid was one of the major factors WHY I considered not going back to LA. Yes, I love my girls that much. Furthermore, I discovered kindness in new friends and colleagues. My department welcomed me warmly, with my department chairperson always offering earnest assistance and guidance. And my favorite, being in Lompoc gave me the the joy of educating children that hugged me when they walked into my classroom, and told me they missed me when I was out.

So, as I pack up my life [yet again] gear up to resume my ‘normal’—whisking off to a gym after work to teach fitness classes; I unroll my yoga mat with humility knowing that no matter how far I have ever moved away from my practice, it always lives within me.

As of late, I’ve made my way back to the mat. And the greatest lesson 2019 has taught me is that in spite of how lost I’ve felt and wondered who I was, that all along I was me—always standing in my power, owning my awesome, and facing life and what it hurled at me head on.

2019, it has been a WILD ride.

2020, I AM SO READY FOR YOU.

PART II: Feelings, Truth, and More Truths about Life

Arielle Miller / Acceptance, Accountability, Adventure, Alive, Build connections, Celebrate, Celebration, Central Coast, Central Coast California, Challenges, Community, Gratitude, LAUSD, Lifestyle, mindfulness, Remembering, Santa Ynez Valley, School, Teacher Life, Teaching, Updates / Be there for others, Gratitude, Tell Someone You Love Them / 0 comments

June 6, 2019

As a heads up: If you haven’t checked out PART I: Feelings, Truth, and More Truths about Life that was published on May 23rd, 2019, before you continue reading this, be sure to check out that post for context.

But before I continue with Part II, I wanted to point out that you may [or may not] have noticed a common theme from my last few posts on this blog, Instagram, and on my podcast, Leveling Up with Arielle Miller.

My colleague made me this beautiful cake for me as an early birthday present and to serve as a send off as I gear up for my new adventure in Santa Ynez and with Lompoc Unified as a high school English teacher.
It’s little things like this, well this wasn’t so little, it took her two days to make this cake, that show others they matter to you and that they have positively impacted your life. This cake made me feel so special, loved, and valued.

As of late, I’ve been spending a lot of time reflecting on life and the relationships we choose to foster with others. And in leaving what I consider to be some of the most important years of my life, it has shown me what I mean to others while reminding me that the only time we have is the present. Tomorrow is never promised, so please, please, please take the time to celebrate people you care about in real time. Do not wait for a deadline before wanting to call someone, grab drinks, go to brunch, or to host people in your home. Reach out now, don’t wait for great change or catastrophe–let those know whom you love that you love them.

I am by no means a perfect person. I have made mistakes. In fact, I have made many. Some that haunt me even today, and I can still feel the bitter sting of my past actions and choices, but I deserve that. I have hurt friends by not being there for them, not showing up for birthday parties, or dinners and more.

Nearly, eight years ago I lost my Uncle Craig. A beloved family member to all, adored for his eccentricity. Nevertheless, when he fell very ill from his diabetes, and was in assisted living, the drive from my parent’s home on Long Island was ‘always too long’ or ‘too much’. There simply was never ‘enough time for a visit’. Therefore, I never went. I never visited my uncle in his last few years and months on earth because I was too selfish, unable to carve out a few hours to ease his suffering. I mark my Uncle Craig’s death as the impetus, illuminating how I needed to reformulate the manner in which I was living my life. I said then and now live this truth: There is always time for anyone who is suffering, ailing, or in need of company. Period.

In the wake of my Uncle’s death, one of hardest things I have ever faced was reflecting on what I did, and in this case, did not do while my Uncle was alive. I vowed to never make the same mistake again. Subsequently, when my grandmother had a series of strokes after hip replacement surgery, rendering her bed ridden and in a care facility, I made sure to ALWAYS visit her when I came back to New York. ALWAYS. It did not matter how long or short my trip to New York was, and it did not matter how inconvenient going to see my grandmother was or potentially could have been. I made a promise to myself that I would not make the same mistake I made with my Uncle Craig ever again. Truly, I have tried to live my life in accordance to what I have learned from my past mistakes so that I could become an honorable person. One that when I looked in the mirror, I was proud of.

As we ushered in 2019, I consciously recommitted to go out of my way to support friends in any and every way I could. That meant showing up to grand openings of new businesses, for performances, parties, baby showers, and more. I started feeling better about my renewed purpose in being there for others. Showing up to these things felt right and has contributed to a wholeness I missed feeling. Sadly, I think all too often that people show up for others and events out of necessity, and that is not what I am talking about when I say to be there for others. Being there in the physical sense is not enough. Being there, fully committed to someone else is what I am talking about. It is about letting go of this notion that our time is somehow more valuable than others, that our shit is more important than being there for someone, and that there will always be time later on. Well, what happens if there is no later? There is only now.

Show up for others, and in turn, you are showing up for yourself. And hell, if people like you enough for being there for them, perhaps you’ll be lucky enough to have someone bake you a killer unicorn cake to show their appreciation for you.

Just saying.

PART I: Feelings, Truth, and More Truths about Life

Arielle Miller / Acceptance, Accountability, Adversity, anger, Celebration, Central Coast, Central Coast California, Challenges, Chronic Illness, Commitment, Community, Current Events, Gratitude, Lifestyle, Married Life, mindfulness, News, Remembering, Santa Ynez Valley, Scleroderma, Uncategorized, Updates / Being Honest with Yourself, Birthday Party, Canceling Plans, Community, Friendship, LA Flake, Leaving Los Angeles, Life in LA, Lifestyle, Live Your Truth, Los Angeles, Los Angeles Life, Moving, Reflection, Santa Ynez Valley, Self-Reflection, Starting a New Life, Starting Over, Supporting others, Truth Speaker / 0 comments

May 23, 2019

I am moving in four weeks. Since alerting friends of my move from Los Angeles to the Central Coast (specifically Santa Ynez), I have been inundated with inquiries about having a going away party and/or trying to see me. And I am pleasant and as accommodating as I can be. But I cannot help but feel a bit hurt that people have the gall to ask those things, especially now of all times.

You know…In October, I threw a surprise party for my husband’s 40^th. Nearly 30+ people said they were coming and less than 10 of our friends showed up. I reserved space at a hip bar in Hollywood, had ordered appetizers, and was excited to show my husband how much those in our lives love him. However, in the days leading up to the party people started posting in the Facebook group AKA the invite that they could no longer make it. Ok, fine.

Then came the personal messages to my inboxes on Facebook and Instagram of people canceling. Finally, then came the texts. For the two days leading up to the party, the day of, night of, the hour before, and even DURING the party, people alerted me that “Sorry, I won’t make it”.

I cannot even begin to describe the deep hurt and overwhelming sense of sadness I carried around for the days surrounding the party. Even before heading out that night, I had to step outside my apartment and cry hysterically to my sister about how this party turned out to be a disaster. All I wanted was for my husband to feel special and this party had the complete opposite result. My husband saw the wetness in my eyes, heard the heaviness in my voice, and noticed my body language as I started to shut down.

For those of you whom do not know my husband Greg intimately, he is one of the most beautiful humans on this planet; and I am not just saying that because he is my husband. I am saying that because it is an irrefutable fact. Greg is loyal, hardworking, funny, and above anything and everything, he is kind. His gentleness is a defining attribute, one that balances my fiercely intense nature. Greg is patient, airing more on the introverted side, but also an incredible force as a fitness professional and as an athlete. He is selfless, dedicating himself to his graduate studies in Public Health, while working tirelessly to raise awareness for Scleroderma through fundraising efforts by running the LA Marathon. Is Greg a saint? Absolutely not. Is he a pretty fucking fantastic human? YES.

Sure, like everyone, there is always room for self-improvement and growth. In Greg’s case, he struggles to actively cultivate meaningful, personal friendships. Really, that is it. See, Greg has usually maintained two careers, working long hours in the hospitality industry into the wee morning hours, and then waking up early to travel to all corners of the city to teach morning and lunch time fitness classes for Equinox. This intense and exhausting pace with which he led his life left him with little time to see friends outside of his work life. Now, I cannot speak for Greg, and I am not sure at the time he even knew that his grueling schedule did not permit the fostering of friendships, but his constant go, go, go lifestyle left him exhausted and depleted. As we have discussed at length, Greg now knows, sees, and feels regret for not slowing down, for not taking more time for himself and others, for not recognizing the signs when his body was screaming for rest…But what is done, is done. The only thing that can be done is to look to the past for the lessons to inform how to live in the present while constructing the future. Hence, this move to the country.

Reeling from the emotions we experienced after Greg’s party, we both assumed some ownership over people not coming to Greg’s party because it is only fair. In years past, either Greg or the both of us did not always prioritize the relationships in our lives. All that considered and taken into account, we both walked away from his party raw and sad, but prepared and eager to apply what we learned in our lives.

This year we wanted to have a New Year’s Eve party because Greg cooks, we have a great place for entertaining, and we LOVE having people over. We sent out ‘feelers’ to friends and were met with “I’m not sure what I’m doing, but I’ll let you know”. Sure, a few people said they had plans, some did not even respond. However, most people responded with what we both felt was along the lines of people waiting and/or looking for something better to come along. I get that, I really do. I get people want to weigh their options. However, when someone is trying to organize an event, especially someone who thought enough of you to invite you into their home; simply decline the offer. Wishy-washy responses like that are rude and inconsiderate; and I am fairly certain that your momma raised you better than that.

So, no.

We are not having a party because experience has shown me that people only show up when it serves them, not to celebrate others. I do not want to leave a city I love, filled with people I love on a sour note.

Call me angry or whatever you want. I am just calling it like it is. And perhaps I am angry, but I am going to honor that while committing to simultaneously relinquishing it as I stand in my power.

Honest. Raw. Authentic. Which is more than most people can say about themselves, so I will own it.

The madness and upheaval in leaving Los Angeles has stirred up many feelings, forcing me to truly go inward. From packing and saying good-bye to my chosen family, a common theme has emerged. We do not know what we have until it is gone. All too often, we look back on our lives perplexed, wondering where the time went…

Dismayed by missed connections and lapsed opportunities, often we are filled with regret when the shoulda, coulda, and woulda’s start to set in.

Why does it have to take someone you value and care about moving away before you want to spend time with that person, or tell that person what they meant to you?

Why does it take death and loss to realize that we did not make the time we thought we had, when we had it?

Why?

This is an important conversation to have with yourself. It is important to take a hard, honest, and REAL look at the person staring back at you in the mirror.

Recognize that if you are not the person you think you are and want to be—then the time to make those changes is NOW.

Not tomorrow or when it is convenient.

Now, because there is never enough time to spend with the people that you love and cherish, so stop waiting and putting it off.

I can say with confidence that I am proud of the life I choose to live, and the manner in which I lead it…

Stay tuned–To be continued in PART II: Feelings, Truth, and More Truths about Life…

What Really Matters

Arielle Miller / Abundance, Acceptance, Accountability, Adventure, Adversity, Alive, anger, balance, Build connections, Celebrate, Celebration, Challenges, Community, Fitness, Goal Setting, Hard Work, Lifestyle, mindfulness, Motivation Monday, Remembering / Challenges, Death, Family, Grateful, Gratitude, Life, Loss, Love, Mourning, Overcoming Obstacles, Reflection, What Really Matters / 4 comments

April 10, 2017

I have been working on this piece for a while, initially crafted on March 23^rd, it was really hard for me to write. Also, as life would have it, the events in the piece to follow seemed to parallel some trying times in my personal life; ultimately delaying the timeliness of getting this completed. Despite the delay in publication, I still wanted to share it because I felt it was and still is an important story to tell.

I need to start this off with an apology to my readers. I am sorry for the things I have written about myself and my life where I allow myself to feel bad for myself or even allude to anything other than the reality that is my life.

My life is effing fantastic. No matter how I think I want to see things, or when things don’t go my way, or whatever challenge physically, emotionally, and professionally I think I am enduring—it is NOTHING compared to the reality of people with real obstacles and problems.

I am not only sorry for my lack of clarity, but I am also incredibly ashamed of myself. As of late, I have been carrying around this overwhelming sense of shame and it is truly heavy in my heart and soul. How dare I?!

Recently, my world has been seriously rocked. And while my heart is swollen with pain and sorrow; these events and people in my life have taught me invaluable lessons in what I am going to call perspective.

A dear friend of mine gave birth to beautiful baby boy in late February. Upon his arrival he struggled to breath on his own and suffered from seizures. A full term baby and deemed healthy prior to his birth, doctors couldn’t quite figure out what afflicted the child. It was agonizing to watch this horror unfold on social media as we learned that the fate of the child was grim. A GoFundMe was set up to help pay for medical expenses as this innocent child spent the entire duration of his life hooked up to machinery. Daily I not only wept, but sobbed uncontrollably while asking God to take from me and my life and give to my friend. I was angry that it appeared God didn’t hear my cries. Yet, despite the baby’s worsening condition, my friends, community, and myself kept hope alive. We had to believe the baby would survive and miracles do happen—why couldn’t we be fortunate enough to witness one?

Sadly, the baby did not make it. After 3 weeks of a short but very loved life, he passed. While I am not a mother, the hole in my heart for a child I never knew is bottomless.

The death of my friend’s child has taught me more about myself than his teeny soul could ever fathom.

What is truly important? What matters?

Love. Family. Time with the people I care about. That’s it.

In the same time that my friend’s baby was born, my college best friend and former housemate was diagnosed with a rare neurological autoimmune disease. I have watched the unfolding and unraveling of her health via Facebook for years, but never comprehended to the extent her health has degraded. Once a talented and star athlete, this woman who was our leading scorer in college, now cannot walk without assistance. As her body deteriorates at the young age of 35, she will be wheelchair bound in the very near future. What’s more is she has 2 young children and they have to move since she needs a handicapped accessible home.

In spite of her prognosis, my friend seems to be in such good spirits. Her positivity and strength are refreshing, but a stark reminder that whatever I think I am fighting, whatever I think I am grappling, whatever shit I think life is hurling at me—truly, it ain’t that bad.

Now, to be clear, I am not downplaying the things in my life, I don’t think that’s necessarily a healthy outlook either. And in due time I will unveil some other layers, but really, my life’s problems are small in comparison.

I mean, my biggest issue in my life is that I think I’m fat?!

Are you kidding me?

I’ve spent this time in reflection. Honestly searching within myself to make sense of this loss of life, but also how could I memorialize my friend’s baby? How can I keep his spirit alive? How could I be present everyday for myself physically, emotionally, and grateful? And the answer almost seemed easy. It was apparent to me that by loving myself wholly and fully, that was the first step to taking the teachings of this lesson in perspective and showing my learning.

I’ve stopped the nonsense.

I have showered myself with love. I have hugged my husband every chance I get. I call my mom everyday despite the fact she always has to jet to yoga or water aerobics and can’t talk to me (I still love ya mom, and I AM SO HAPPY that you have found bliss in your retirement!). I have stepped back to look at my life and realize that I am bountiful in more ways than can be measured. And by more ways than you can imagine, I am talking about the new-found gratitude for my physical capabilities.

Everyday now when I walk through the doors of the gym, I look around in utter amazement that this is the life I am privileged to live. I get to sweat in one of the world’s most beautiful facilities and above all—I can move my body any which way I darn please. THAT is a gift. These recent weeks have shed a light on my life that only go to show you that through darkness there really is light. And maybe you can say that this light is my friends baby, and maybe you can say it’s my friend’s undying spirit and zest for life, and maybe you can say it’s just me.

I don’t really care how you choose to see it or look at it. We ultimately see what we choose to see anyway. But what I do ask you to do is take a hard look at yourself and life today. Look through photos, strip down to your underwear and gaze upon your body in the mirror. Admire your strength, your power, and who you are in this very moment. Lovingly look at those in your life who bring you joy and seek them out. Make a plan, [one you will keep, you LA flakes] and get coffee, hit a workout, or just sit in a park on a bench and talk sans posting it on your Snap or InstaStory.

See? I bet you didn’t realize how damn blessed you are. Don’t wait for life to slap you in the face hard and sting before you wake up. Live life now.

Hug now.

Kiss now.

Run now.

Jump now.

Fix now.

Repair now.

Dance now.

Wander now.

GO NOW.

BE NOW.

DO NOW.

On This Day

Arielle Miller / 2016, Abundance, Acceptance, Accountability, Adventure, Adversity, At Home Workouts, Body Building, Build connections, Celebrate, Celebration, Challenges, Commitment, Community, Fitness, Goal Setting, Hard Work, Lifestyle, mindfulness, Remembering, Strength Training, Teaching, Yoga / Body Building, Facebook, Girls who Lift, Girls with Muscle, Goal Setting. Goal Crusher, Goals, Gym life, Looking Back, New friends, New Year, On This Day, Power Lifting, Reflecting, Yoga / 0 comments

December 26, 2016

Facebook reminded me where I was one year ago today. No surprise I was in the gym but this was before, well before I dreamed of body building or power lifting. As a matter of fact, I was completely unfocused in my personal fitness journey at the point I posted this photo and looking at it now makes me both sad, yet also incredibly proud.

Part of the caption reads:

Recently, I’ve found myself gravitating back towards weight lifting. Man, there is NOTHING like the pump you get from lifting. No amount of cardio or cycling can duplicate the feeling one gets when pushing, pulling, and pressing weights. I’m eager to redefine my love with lifting heavy things. Who knows? Maybe in the New Year I’ll find myself back at #Crossfit?

One year ago today 2015

Almost prophetic, it was like I was laying the ground work for the coming months when I would indeed fully gravitate back to weight lifting taking me down the path of body building, competing (September 5,2016), then power lifting, and soon my first meet (January 22, 2017). Looking at this photo I see hints of the woman I’d later grow into but unbeknownst to me; it’d take almost 3-4 months after I posted this photo to fully commit to myself and my own unfiltered excellence.

At the point this photo was taken I was exactly 1-year post-op from my 4^th knee surgery. In so many respects I allowed myself to be defined by what I thought I could and couldn’t do. I’m not quite sure how and why that happened really. I guess at the point when this photo was taken, I can attribute my lack of success fitness-wise to making excuses for myself. I hid behind the fact that I was a school teacher, serving children all day; then teaching fitness in the evenings—after serving others, motivating, and empowering others, I couldn’t possibly have anything left in me to then pump myself up to lift in the gym.

That’s where the sadness comes from—that’s where I look at this photo and see a woman who could be so great, if only she saw herself the same way others saw her. It breaks my heart to know it took years to arrive at the point in which I am today.

It would be nearly a year where I’d make new friends and reside in a completely new community that I would find the self-confidence to revel in my power and strength. Weight lifting allowed me to restore myself confidence, even when I failed, was tired, or didn’t feel like lifting. Weight lifting has given me purpose and a true sense of self-worth. And honestly, I hate to say this [especially as a yogi and yoga instructor] but yoga never ever made me feel this way. As a matter of fact, the yoga community is the exact opposite of the weight lifting world. Ironically, the yoga world is consumed by ego, aesthetics, and contortionism. Most times, it’s even exclusive and the warm and welcoming community it presents or shall I say, sells to the world, is just that—a sales pitch. And not to knock it, since I too live in, teach, and practice in the yoga world; the weight lifting community is one of authentic friends who could care less about what you’re wearing, what you can do with your body, and what your body looks like. It’s damn refreshing to hang out with women who walk up to you, ask your name, then hug you, smile, and help you lift. Better yet, it’s friggen awesome to go out with a group of girls who don’t talk about how fat they are, what they should and shouldn’t eat, and genuinely like their bodies. Hell, these women LOVE their bodies—HALLELUJAH!

So I look at this woman one year ago and I while I feel a tinge of sadness for her, I also smile knowing that the year she had ahead was one of the best years of her life. The hours spent in the gym with my husband coaching me, meeting new people, building myself up, and sculpting my body, have been some of the best experiences in my life. I am so proud of the work that girl put in and the me of today has committed to putting in massive work as 2017 rounds the corner. The journey will only get harder as my power lifting meet looms on the horizon; and now with the help of a new body building coach, the work I am about to take on will be grueling. But I am ready now, so so so ready.

A year ago I tried to avoid committing to myself because I was scared and filled with self-doubt. Today, I bound into the gym rain or shine, on holidays, sometimes twice a day, and when it calls for it—7 days a week. There truly isn’t anything that I cannot do, and same applies to you too.

Same outfit, different hair, new attitude. The me of 2016.

A lot can and will change in a year if you allow yourself the space to grow. Give yourself permission to thrive and dare to make impactful changes in your life because you are so worth it. I know looking back has allowed me to look ahead to the future with hope—even more hope than I could ever imagine because I know my potential is boundless.

Elie Wiesel’s Night through the Eyes of a Teacher

Arielle Miller / Community, Remembering, Teacher Life, Teaching, Top Stories / Change the world, Elie Wiesel, High School teacher, Never Forget, Reading, Teacher, The Holocaust / 6 comments

July 2, 2016

There are lots of things I remember about my childhood. Perhaps my earliest memory of all is that of my father snuggling up with my younger sister and I and reading aloud to us. He’d do all the voices of the characters; and once I was old enough to read, I realized often times my father infused his own take on the plot. My love of reading was fostered all throughout my youth with summer trips to the library, hours long (or so they seemed such as a child) excursions where I’d sit on the floor plucking various R.L. Stine books from the shelves and get lost in Fear Street. I vividly remember falling in love with Huck, crying at the end of The Pigman, and empathizing for Frankenstein. But what I don’t remember reading is Elie Wiesel’s Night.

Now, I know I read it. I remember learning all about the Holocaust in middle school. I even remember this video project I did for my English class pretending to be Miep Gies. As a matter of fact, I did such a good job with the costuming and acting the teacher didn’t believe it was me and called my mom to verify. But again, lost in the thousands, maybe even millions of pages of books I have read and loved—I do not recall reading Night in my youth. Perhaps that’s because I was supposed to teach it as an adult to kids. Perhaps I don’t recall because my charge was to feel every bit of it so intensely that when I brought it to my 9^th graders, I lived the horrors of Nazi Germany in real-time. Who knows? But here’s what I do know, teaching Night to a classroom of students is one of the most powerful things I have ever experienced. Night and its themes of maintaining, losing, then rediscovering one’s identity, tolerance, and the importance of speaking up is to date one of my crowning achievements as an educator. For me, Wiesel’s Night, a vessel to teaching the world so much about more than just history, allowed me as a Jewish woman to honor my ancestry by giving a voice to those 6 million who didn’t get one.

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Elie Wiesel

In today’s era with social media and the immediacy of things, crafting a unit to teach children is always hard. Short of dressing like a clown while spinning on my head, lighting myself on fire, and gargling—my students [or shall I just say students] are not phased by much. So 2 years ago when I went about teaching Night for the first time, I wanted to make sure it was done right. And by right, I wanted to create an environment where respect would be paid to the 12 million that were murdered during World War II, while especially highlighting the iron-will and perseverance of the Jewish people. Bringing old world Europe of 1933-1945 to life would pose as a major challenge to these Angelenos—how do I reach these kids? And then it hit me! Film, photos, and survivor testimonials would bring this to life; for pictures are universal and speak to everyone regardless of reading level! And there so began our adventure together.

Teacher and student, student and teacher. Many times my voice often trembled as I fought back tears in reading Night aloud to my students. My heart heavy with an indescribable pain and guilt for my people in the sense I was helpless. But then it dawned upon me, I wasn’t helpless. I was doing precisely what Jews do—carry on. By being a teacher and exposing my students to something they’d otherwise only read in a paragraph in their 10^th grade history text book; those that died were not in vain. Their memories stayed alive within the walls of my classroom as we walked through history, grappled with ourselves, and ultimately struggled with our own faltering identities. We used Wiesel’s Night as a mirror that shone back on ourselves to delve deep into who we are and vowed that under no circumstances to allow that to ever be compromised. It was through reading Night, filled with such pain and suffering that grew love and harmony. It unified my students, brought me closer to them, and in the end they learned so much more than how to just write an essay. They learned compassion, true empathy, and that the greatest sin of all time is to stand idly by in the face of injustice or anything you feel in your heart is wrong.

Night transcends its short pages chronicling Wiesel’s youth from his simple life in Sighet, Transylvania (now Romania). From the forcible ghetto of the Jews, to Auschwitz-Birkenau, to surviving the infamous 350 mile Death March when the Liberation Army was in hot pursuit of the Germans. Wiesel’s Night is a must read for all of humanity. A reminder that while we have not forgotten the atrocities of World War II, we are fighting everyday for love, liberty, justice, democracy, equity, acceptance, and freedom.

I cannot imagine walking in Wiesel’s shoes. Surviving one of mankind’s most horrific displays of hatred to only grow old in a time where people cannot love whom they want freely and suicide bombers are killing people in throngs all in the supposed name of God. Oh, how my heart aches for such a man to survive something so terrible to leave a world on the cusp of not destroying ourselves in nuclear annihilation but simply rooted in black, blacker, and blackest dead of night hate. Wiesel’s fight to survive camp has not ended, it has only just begun.

“We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.”

~ Elie Wiesel

May your words and tale of survival echo for all eternity. Thank you for your courage and bravery. Thank you for honoring the Jewish people by giving the 6 million that perished at the hands of Nazi Germany a voice. Thank you for always being a champion for injustice. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’d say the world became a dimmer place today with your passing; but that’d be a lie. You will continue to live and inspire for all of time.

RIP Elie Wiesel.