Every now and again you meet someone that reminds you of things past, of old passions, and why you do what you do.
Recently, I have become acquainted with someone who has refreshed my soul in this way. Reminded me that I have been relatively silent for quite a while now.
I've never felt much comfort in my writing. It is often highly personal, or deals with topics in life that are uncomfortable for people to wrestle with. I've struggled with inner demons or have done the internal work long enough before I write, however, that I do find some peace when I put my words out there. The difficulty, or road block, I've often faced is battling the desire to do it for gratification, or public recognition (even just amongst my friends). In some instances I'd gotten so used to sharing; for a moment, thinking about how many people would read it, how many comments I might get, or even during the writing process editing my words so as "not to offend someone" or becoming overly concerned about burning bridges.
As things have unfolded in the world at large, I have had many thoughts. Some of them may seem radical to people; to others not radical enough. I denied myself putting pen to paper because I either felt I had no horse in the race (punningly enough it was usual surrounding matters of Race) or, in all honesty, I had truly not completed the internal work necessary for me to feel comfortable expressing myself.
Part of what I've found about being me is that I can easily see or sympathise (to a limited extent on certain matters -- I have little to no sympathy for bigotry or hatred) with both sides of some issues, and I have to strive to understand and come to terms with the fluidity on my thoughts. There is a constant battle between "is this what I truly believe" or "is this something that I'm having a gut reaction to because I haven't taken the time to digest the narrative being handed to me or truly listened to the words of the person who has undergone the experience."
Sometimes there has been simple fatigue. I have an exhausting job. It takes a lot out of me, and there are times when I do not have to energy to want to engage with some of the events that occur in the world at large. So much vehemence and violence at work, attempting to think about the same "out there" is strenuous. I got to a point where I got tired of caring.
Other times I fall back to old traumas. Listening to the old voices that told me I was wrong, that loving only left me feeling alone, that I am a burden not a contribution. There's a terrible peace in that violence telling me theres no point in trying. But it's an easy escape and I've been silent to too long.
What I have learned is that you have to fix your mind before you can fix anything else. I have to dump out the jealousy, the pettiness, the unforgiveness, the blaming others that is hindering me from pouring into my life what is going to make me better. So, I refuse to let another year go by wasting my time with these old mentalities.
There will be blessings, there will be opportunities and there will be challenges, and tests. But as soon as I stop looking for answers to happiness in other people, and waiting for miracles somewhere down the yellow brick road, I can set my affections on things that are worth so much more.
And therefore, I will step into this moment and every moment hereafter.
Tuesday, October 31, 2017
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Committment to Excellence
A few weeks ago I was honoured to be selected to give a speech at Duke University School of Nursing to commemorate their annual Commitment to Excellence ceremony. Here is my speech:
Good evening Fellow ABSN students, Faculty, and Guests,
My name is Nathan Hatch, and I’m a fourth semester ABSN student at Duke University School of NURSING! I stand up here looking out at all of you in amazement and excitement and sincere gratitude. Who would have guessed that a small town kid from California like me, would end up standing here, at a renown institution like Duke University. Seriously, a little less then a year ago I was sitting where you are all today. New, naive, and foolishly, just a little bit indignant at having to sit there and listen to people talk about “excellence.” But here I am, three semesters later, a little older, hopefully a little wiser, and a witness to how the faculty and staff of the School of Nursing have stood to the meet the commitment to develop, deliver and promote excellence in education, nursing care, and community involvement.
One of my favourite quotes on excellence is from Murali Chemuturi, and as I read it I want you to hold it in your mind as I’ll be referring back to it. “Excellence,” he says, “is a continuously moving target, pursued through actions of integrity. It is being the frontrunner, providing safe and reliable service to others, meeting all obligations,” and yet, “continuously learning and improving in all spheres, to pursue that moving target.” I cannot think of a better working definition for excellence in the practice of nursing. To have integrity, striving for safe and excellent care for others, and committing to being lifelong learners. It requires a strong dose of humility and constant self-examination. Excellence starts with a question. A question I will end with later.
In my studies here at the Duke School of Nursing there is a term that has been given to us that I consider as an umbrella mindset for nursing practice, and some of you may know it as the Holistic approach to medicine. The Holistic approach, to me, is stepping away from reactive medicine, and instead being proactive, and considering all options of care. It is how we as nurses (and future nurses) can maintain a mindset of excellence. To think critically through the nursing process about what we know, while analyzing all spheres of influence of our patients, and assuming responsibility to educate ourselves about what we do not know, in order to maintain the highest level of service to our communities and the people that place their lives in our care.
As of now, we sit here because we have been chosen by members of this University who see us as individuals meeting the standard of having “outstanding character, ability and vision” to be the next generation of leaders in this ever changing field of medicine. While this is a great honour, I challenge you to be more than just that, because after all excellence isn’t simply meeting someone else’s standards, it is setting your own and exceeding them.
I want to tell you a little bit about Esther. A woman who led me to aspire to join this amazing profession.
I met Esther nearly three years ago, when I stepped off a crammed 15 passenger van which was currently holding 32 people, into a tiny highland village in Kenya which I was to call home for a time. Esther is a nurse who’s energy and dedication was the key in transforming the unassuming Dispensary in Ngorika, to a place of excellence in healing. I went to Kenya as a Public Health Volunteer full of ambitions and expectations in the hopes of making some small difference in the community that I was placed, never expecting to meet a woman who would so inspire me and change the direction of my life forever, and it all started with a simple question of curiosity.
“Kwa nini hapa Ngorika, Esther? Why here? You could be working ANYwhere else in Kuyu-land, or even Nairobi at any of the best hospitals. Why this Dispensory? Why Ngorika?”
She turned to me and smiled as if the answer was completely obvious, “They need me. Yes, I could have gone anywhere I chose, and cared for any number of sick or injured people, but that is all I would be doing -- mending, fixing. As a Nurse I want to heal. In Ngorika I can do that. Yes, I can mend people’s bodies but I can also mend the system broken by corruption, I can heal the hearts damaged by tribalism, here I can mend the soul.
Who else is there but me?”
That is the question. And you may be answering, “Plenty, there are plenty of people who can.” I know I have said that to myself many times through this program, comparing myself to others. Thinking, “They are so much better at this then I.” or “I know so little, how am I supposed to do this?” But then I recall my first day of clinical in the hospital. During Maternity. Being the Greenest of the Green. I was placed in a room with a laboring mother, her knowing little of English. And against such barriers I was able to provide comfort and care, to which I was asked specifically to remain throughout her birthing process. In that moment, I felt like I knew next to nothing. But I utilized the knowledge I had and gave my best to provide safe, and effective care, and it made all the difference.
So, considering that rhetorical question, and do everything in your power to hit that moving target called excellence. As you move forward in this program, and work with this wonderful faculty who will push you in every way imaginable; Think critically, breathe deep, and aim high.
Thank You.
Good evening Fellow ABSN students, Faculty, and Guests,
My name is Nathan Hatch, and I’m a fourth semester ABSN student at Duke University School of NURSING! I stand up here looking out at all of you in amazement and excitement and sincere gratitude. Who would have guessed that a small town kid from California like me, would end up standing here, at a renown institution like Duke University. Seriously, a little less then a year ago I was sitting where you are all today. New, naive, and foolishly, just a little bit indignant at having to sit there and listen to people talk about “excellence.” But here I am, three semesters later, a little older, hopefully a little wiser, and a witness to how the faculty and staff of the School of Nursing have stood to the meet the commitment to develop, deliver and promote excellence in education, nursing care, and community involvement.
One of my favourite quotes on excellence is from Murali Chemuturi, and as I read it I want you to hold it in your mind as I’ll be referring back to it. “Excellence,” he says, “is a continuously moving target, pursued through actions of integrity. It is being the frontrunner, providing safe and reliable service to others, meeting all obligations,” and yet, “continuously learning and improving in all spheres, to pursue that moving target.” I cannot think of a better working definition for excellence in the practice of nursing. To have integrity, striving for safe and excellent care for others, and committing to being lifelong learners. It requires a strong dose of humility and constant self-examination. Excellence starts with a question. A question I will end with later.
In my studies here at the Duke School of Nursing there is a term that has been given to us that I consider as an umbrella mindset for nursing practice, and some of you may know it as the Holistic approach to medicine. The Holistic approach, to me, is stepping away from reactive medicine, and instead being proactive, and considering all options of care. It is how we as nurses (and future nurses) can maintain a mindset of excellence. To think critically through the nursing process about what we know, while analyzing all spheres of influence of our patients, and assuming responsibility to educate ourselves about what we do not know, in order to maintain the highest level of service to our communities and the people that place their lives in our care.
As of now, we sit here because we have been chosen by members of this University who see us as individuals meeting the standard of having “outstanding character, ability and vision” to be the next generation of leaders in this ever changing field of medicine. While this is a great honour, I challenge you to be more than just that, because after all excellence isn’t simply meeting someone else’s standards, it is setting your own and exceeding them.
I want to tell you a little bit about Esther. A woman who led me to aspire to join this amazing profession.
I met Esther nearly three years ago, when I stepped off a crammed 15 passenger van which was currently holding 32 people, into a tiny highland village in Kenya which I was to call home for a time. Esther is a nurse who’s energy and dedication was the key in transforming the unassuming Dispensary in Ngorika, to a place of excellence in healing. I went to Kenya as a Public Health Volunteer full of ambitions and expectations in the hopes of making some small difference in the community that I was placed, never expecting to meet a woman who would so inspire me and change the direction of my life forever, and it all started with a simple question of curiosity.
“Kwa nini hapa Ngorika, Esther? Why here? You could be working ANYwhere else in Kuyu-land, or even Nairobi at any of the best hospitals. Why this Dispensory? Why Ngorika?”
She turned to me and smiled as if the answer was completely obvious, “They need me. Yes, I could have gone anywhere I chose, and cared for any number of sick or injured people, but that is all I would be doing -- mending, fixing. As a Nurse I want to heal. In Ngorika I can do that. Yes, I can mend people’s bodies but I can also mend the system broken by corruption, I can heal the hearts damaged by tribalism, here I can mend the soul.
Who else is there but me?”
That is the question. And you may be answering, “Plenty, there are plenty of people who can.” I know I have said that to myself many times through this program, comparing myself to others. Thinking, “They are so much better at this then I.” or “I know so little, how am I supposed to do this?” But then I recall my first day of clinical in the hospital. During Maternity. Being the Greenest of the Green. I was placed in a room with a laboring mother, her knowing little of English. And against such barriers I was able to provide comfort and care, to which I was asked specifically to remain throughout her birthing process. In that moment, I felt like I knew next to nothing. But I utilized the knowledge I had and gave my best to provide safe, and effective care, and it made all the difference.
So, considering that rhetorical question, and do everything in your power to hit that moving target called excellence. As you move forward in this program, and work with this wonderful faculty who will push you in every way imaginable; Think critically, breathe deep, and aim high.
Thank You.
Monday, September 14, 2015
Of Stardust and Sand
When I was young. There was a song I used to know.
It lightened me up and made me glow.
As I grew, it's tune did change,
and I discovered the clarity of it's full range.
The days continued to flow.
and the strength of it's tune challenged me and made me grow.
"Man is born free," it used to say to me.
"Equal and free. Born into dignity."
Every one born with reason and conscience.
In the land of the Dream; full of hope and of promise.
But that dream; it turned sour,
As the men who touted it fell abuses of fame and of power.
That song all but faded,
It's true meaning no longer bolstered, nor paraded.
The tune diminished in sound,
As the deep beats of fate marched it into the ground.
For the boy from the beginning is now but a man.
Made of only his wits, stardust and sand.
Tuesday, July 7, 2015
Why it Matters (Pt. 2)
When I could receive internet connection, I remember spending time reading the posts of someone I had met at camp four years earlier. His writing expressed vulnerability; of being honest with himself, and others. He wrote on coming out, his struggles with faith (by-the-way he was originally on track for seminary) -- a lot of nuances that were uncomfortably open and "shocking" to innocent me at the time. At first, I thought, "That will never be my life". Yet, his writings gave me a different perspective. They allowed me fanciful thoughts of a different life that could be possible.
Freedom.
Being yanked out of Peace Corps service threw me downstream without a paddle. I had little to my name, shoulders burdened by loss, confusion, and doubt, and no particular place to go. So, I did as any good gold-miner would do, and headed for Oregon. I began to dig a new life; a new identity. I discovered a few diamonds amidst a lot of coal; friends who expanded my world and opened my eyes to new bubbles of existence. They didn't know my past, though I did divulge some, but helped me discover who I was, and what I could become. I stayed up reeeeeally late to go out with coworkers and play 'dare or dare'. I went naked hiking/sunbathing with Alex, Travis, and their friends. I went on biking adventures with Megan and Justin, and listened to Jacob's intellectual rants about philosophy, art, and music. I, for the first time, witnessed a committed, loving [gay] partnership, up-close and for the first time through Chet and Craig. I went on dates. I had my first kisses. I met a boy, who, inadvertently, showed me what it feels like to fall for someone.
Love.
It's 2015. A week ago, a ruling was given that again changes the possibilities and the potential course of my life. I've pondered endlessly about the sacrifices people have made before me to make, what I will someday get to enjoy, a reality. It's a different life then I was expecting, but it is a good one. When I asked myself, "Why should I continue to write?" I think back to that lost, broken and confused, twenty-something in Africa, reading years-old blogposts from someone that I met one time. I remember what it meant to hear someone's vulnerability and be able to relate. To find hope. So, if my words can help just one person on their way to the happiness, the pride, and freedom that I have found in being alive, then that's why
It matters.
Monday, July 6, 2015
Why It Matters (Pt. 1)
I have tended towards being an open and honest human for the majority of my life. I don't like to hide things, or at least haven't since I graduated high school. Most of my friends and family will tell you that I divulge (or seek to discover) the deepest parts of myself more often then maybe warrented.
However, there have been many secrets I have kept from select groups of people for long periods of time:
My being bullied through out my primary, junior high, and high school years,
My suicide attempt,
My sexuality,
My depression,
My loss of faith,
Not because I was never willing to discuss them, but because I never felt they were important to share unless directly asked...
I lay in the sun. Trying to recover after experiencing another crippling panic attack from trying to walk to the market to buy groceries. I couldn't get past the second road marker. "Iwona will be here tomorrow, seeing a familiar face will help--she'll talk some sense into me," I thought to myself. Iwona was a Peace Corps Volunteer, like myself, but seemed somehow hardier.
Tougher.
This was the fifteenth panic attack in the last week, since moving to site. I needed some form of peace-of-mind. I entered my closet and picked up the copy of Jesus Calling my mom insisted I bring with me. I had tried several times earlier to read the bible I had brought but it's words were too dry, to cerebral. I needed encouragement;
Conversation.
I remember in church being constantly told that American culture was too ernest, too productivity-centred, too noisy, to hear God's voice. That I, as someone seeking to Hear, needed to find time to be still, quiet--seeking. This was the perfect time to truly listen for it. Kilometres from 'civilisation', minimal distractions, and open sky. So, I did. I prayed, I sat in silence, I wandered in the wilderness. Sought peace and the Voice of God, and found;
Silence.
It was devastating. My faith had been a cornerstone of my life for so long. It kept my chin up when I was continually punched in the gut, and name-called, and isolated relentlessly. It guided and focused my healing process after losing hope. It exposed me to the injustices of the world and gave me reason to push for change and the future. It also made me cry myself to sleep at night; praying that I could be someone, something, different then I was; wishing beyond wishes that the roof would fall in on me so that I would no longer exist and find peace from the internal turmoil that was me vs. what the bible said people like me were.
Sinner.
However, there have been many secrets I have kept from select groups of people for long periods of time:
My being bullied through out my primary, junior high, and high school years,
My suicide attempt,
My sexuality,
My depression,
My loss of faith,
Not because I was never willing to discuss them, but because I never felt they were important to share unless directly asked...
I lay in the sun. Trying to recover after experiencing another crippling panic attack from trying to walk to the market to buy groceries. I couldn't get past the second road marker. "Iwona will be here tomorrow, seeing a familiar face will help--she'll talk some sense into me," I thought to myself. Iwona was a Peace Corps Volunteer, like myself, but seemed somehow hardier.
Tougher.
This was the fifteenth panic attack in the last week, since moving to site. I needed some form of peace-of-mind. I entered my closet and picked up the copy of Jesus Calling my mom insisted I bring with me. I had tried several times earlier to read the bible I had brought but it's words were too dry, to cerebral. I needed encouragement;
Conversation.
I remember in church being constantly told that American culture was too ernest, too productivity-centred, too noisy, to hear God's voice. That I, as someone seeking to Hear, needed to find time to be still, quiet--seeking. This was the perfect time to truly listen for it. Kilometres from 'civilisation', minimal distractions, and open sky. So, I did. I prayed, I sat in silence, I wandered in the wilderness. Sought peace and the Voice of God, and found;
Silence.
It was devastating. My faith had been a cornerstone of my life for so long. It kept my chin up when I was continually punched in the gut, and name-called, and isolated relentlessly. It guided and focused my healing process after losing hope. It exposed me to the injustices of the world and gave me reason to push for change and the future. It also made me cry myself to sleep at night; praying that I could be someone, something, different then I was; wishing beyond wishes that the roof would fall in on me so that I would no longer exist and find peace from the internal turmoil that was me vs. what the bible said people like me were.
Sinner.
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