I’ve never felt comfortable with the last name I was given or had taken. Like a see through shirt you’re too lazy to change. Arms folded across your chest. A little bit cold, so you grab a shawl. Still not right. Constricted.
A few months before my walk I announced out loud without even thinking, I’m changing my name to Cynthia Milagro.
For many years I have been making jewelry using Mexican milagros. Small metal folk charms in the shape of body parts, animals, and sacred symbols. Placed in churches and on altars in request of milagros, Spanish for miracles. Thinking, maybe that was why it came to me, and felt Right.
The first person I met in France, I introduced myself, Cynthia Milagro. On my Camino credentials, a passport of sorts for the hostels, Cynthia Milagro.
For the first time in my life I felt like me.
“The Egyptians regarded the name (ren) as an aspect of soul and believed that any assault on a person’s name – for example, the defacement of an inscription – was an act of soul mutilation, even soul murder. At the start of my workshops, I ask everyone in the circle to begin by claiming his or her name and announcing it to the circle in a clear, ringing voice. ‘If you don’t like the name you’ve been given or are called by others, change it now and we’ll say it back to you.”
Robert Moss Active Dreaming
I did not know of the milagros that were to be along my way, and that neither my life, nor name, would ever be the same.
I’ve been wanting to say something but haven’t known where to begin.
I used to have a place on the internet some years ago. Just a simple, often silly little thing. Each Sunday morning I’d post photos and thoughts about my week. In a way it helped me live more. Say yes to things I may not have. To see with different eyes.
My favorite part was gathering new friends who felt my words and shared my heart. Some I’ve met for real, and there are still someday ones, connecting through letters until.
A lot has happened since then.
One day I was reviewing my life. Thinking, boy, this has been pretty cushy almost too easy. I must be resting this time around. Last one must have been a doozy.
The very next day all was flipped upside down, inside out, and twirled around. Premonition?
I used blogger but now it’s all connected to googleland and something about that creeps me out. I’ve had a gmail account for awhile now that I still can’t use right. And from the things that appear, I feel it watches me sleep.
Here at wordpress and struggling. Seems a bit limiting compared to blogger. I don’t think I can change my font style or size without purchasing the deluxe plan. Those things are pretty important to me when I write. I’d like this to be smaller, softer. Maybe it is possible. Let me know, if you know, please.
To be honest, this really isn’t all blog. I’ve come here to talk about life, love, and miracles, and also to sell some creations that I’m really excited to share. Trying to raise money consciously to do some things I’m dreaming about.
I’ve landed in a new life place. Like air, I need to flyfree.
Blessed with loving supportive friends and family that say Go. Be.
In the fall I walked part of the Camino de Santiago. A 500 mile pilgrimage from France to Spain. I was looking for adventure and to find and share heartpeace. I did find adventure. Lost and found pieces of my heart along the way.
Gone five weeks. The first was health, happiness, and spaciousness. The next four became difficult, but precious. Sometimes hard to think and talk about. There were miracles that happened. Real ohdearsweetGod Miracles.
Not ready at all to leave there and come back. Remembering the sacredness and grace in each moment, tears fall.
I dragged home a broken ankle and some PTSD. Both are better.
If I could, I would change,