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. 


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