We’ve been down here vacationing at Tara for almost a week now, today is our last full day. Lee has had it in his heart to return to his truly southern roots and warm water.
When I tell y’all that his family is OLD Flow – ida, I’m not exaggerating. His Great grand father or maybe it was his great great? Anyways he came with his people from South Carolina, they were of Scottish decent.
When the Civil War broke out they got to steppin’, they didn’t want any part of that war and instead decided that digging their way through the unruly and wild – soon to be state of Florida was worth the adventure. The other side of his Daddy’s family came from Majorca Spain – Flow-ida was settled by the Spanish and the city of St. Augustine was the first town in Flow-ida the year was 1565, long before the English settled Roanoke, VA.
Lee’s distant people came here during this time period. His momma’s people found their way to Flow-ida years on, they were German in descent, originally settling in Alabama.
So you see his people are pioneers of the great state of sunshine, his father followed along in his ancestor’s line of construction and development building most of the roads and structure from some of the major highways to Sea World! Driving around Flow-ida with Lee is walking again in two worlds – one mixed with stories of the past and strip malls of the present. My mind wanders between these realms seeing what was and wondering why the humans have decided to cover every empty space with character less and style less housing developments and strip malls?
Lee loves to surf, and particularly in warm water. We’ve had thoughts for the past year to move down here; last fall we investigated southern Flow-ida from Miami up. On this trip our house hunting took us to St. Augustine, a town of eccentrics and mystical folks as it’s claim for being the most haunted town in the United States draws an interesting crowd of humans.
Lee likes this town for its history; you see it’s not so hard to see time. In St. Augustine. The streets are cobblestone and many of the homes are well over 100 years old, in fact 100 years is young in this town. There are still structures from the 1500’s! Lee hooked us up with a FABULOUS real estate person her name is FLO FRANLKIN, and she is from Georgia originally. When we met she wowed me with her FABULOUS southern way of speaking, introducing herself and adding on “I am from the Deep South.” I giggled with glee ‘cause fo’sho I knew I was in for an interesting house hunting day.
The first house we looked at sits right in the center of town, built in the 1800’s one just knew that inside it’s colorful exterior and Victorian style that a story was waiting to be read. The house has 7 bedrooms and 5 or 6 bathrooms, two kitchens. The walls were covered with beautiful wood paneling as it was done so long ago and done right along with wood floors to match, crown moldings, fireplaces and old lead glass windows filled most of the space.
Talk about walking in two worlds, the world of Lee’s great grand’s was alive and well here in this house, holding tight.
As I walked through the house I immediately felt as if I was greeted by a strong up right standing man. A thought whispered through my mind, this thought carried with it the sound of a male voice from this long ago time “Too many people have lived in my house, and you will not be one of them.” I found myself answering back “No I won’t, however I am gonna take a look.”
The roaming of these halls was on, the girls immediately decided that the house had ghosts and were on a mission to see one. I climbed the beautiful stair case to arrive in a master bedroom, as we entered the room a “whoosh” moved through us all – with out saying anything Bella looked at me and said “WOW Momma this room is weird feeling.” She was right, that room that felt more crowded than the 7-11 on the corner, regardless of the fact that it was bare of even furniture. When I say this house was rambling it was and is. Back in it’s hey day the carriage house (now converted garage) was located towards the back, folks would arrive and then climb the stairs to the ballroom where there was also an orchestra room. The Orchestra room is now an apartment and the ballroom another apartment. As I stood in the back of the house in one of the rooms I had an over whelming thought “Dang, this house has has fo’sho had way too many people living in it!”
Click below to listen to Walking On The Earth by Chris Pierce
Once again I am up in the air – literally…down below I see GREEN!
After 4 days in Santa Fe, New Mexico, my eyes were beginning to adjust to the shades of brown that coat the high deserts land and buildings. I’ve been to Santa Fe a few times in fact, I believe this was my 4th. Each time I am amazed by the Sangre de Cristo Mountains (the blood of Christ mountains).
The combination of pine trees or I believe they are called pinion trees, topped by snow capped mountains is breathtaking. I can’t help but to once again see time, imagining when this wonderful town was only a Mexican pueblo; the images of cowboys and Indians swarm my mind.
It’s funny, why I think I’m going somewhere is usually not the reason I went once I’ve left. I thought I was going to support Lee, you see one of the things he does besides the obvious, is produce documentary films. Last night they screened his first completed project “Dreaming Heaven” – the journey through Teotihuacan; Lee and his team have been working on this project for 3.5 years.
My sister flew into Nashville for Easter and what a good Easter we had! I know I complain often about what Nashville doesn’t do for me so only in fairness, let me give this city a shout out – it’s close enough that my sister and I can show up for one another. This is such a big deal considering that I’ve lived 1,000’s of miles from her since leaving home at 18, now we don’t miss a holiday.
This Easter was really wonderful we colored eggs and headed out to The Ranch for the day; Monday morning Nicole took over allowing Lee & I to board a plane for New Mexico. Don’t get me wrong I go back and forth with leaving the girls but being a mother is not all that I am, I am my husbands best friend – and this means showing up to support him. So if we’d spoken on Sunday I’d have told you this and that I was also going to see a bunch of friends including one of my BFF’s Iva Peele (she is also my husbands executive producing partner in Dreaming Heaven-Gosh I adore this “lady girl”, she is not only a slam bangin’ photographer but one of my “people”. We giggle and whisper like teenagers, the level of depth that we can go to in conversation is shocking and then with a flip of our hair we are back in the funny again – my kinda gal.
(Screening of Dreaming Heaven The Mccormicks & Peeles!)
I met up with Iva and her husband Jeremy in the Dallas airport and onward we journeyed together, immediately we decided that a trip to Chimayo was fo’sho part of the plan. (IVA & JERRY @ BREAKFAST)
I first visited Chimayo many years ago, I’d heard so many tales of how “healing” dirt continued to appear in one of the back rooms – folks from all over the world have journeyed to Chimayo to collect this dirt; leaving behind crutches, crosses, photographs & notes. There are many different tales regarding the history of this place and why the dirt appears and how it works -below I’ve given you one of the most dominant tales:
“One tradition recalls that during Holy Week on the night of Good Friday, Don Bernardo Abeyta, who was a member in good standing of the Hermandad de Nuestro Padre Jes6s el Nazareno (Penitentes) was performing the customary penances of the Society around the hills of El Potrero. Suddenly he saw a light springing from one of the slopes of the hills near the Santa Cruz River. Don Bernardo went to the spot and noticed that the shining light was coming from the ground. He started to dig with his bare hands, and there he found a Crucifix. He left it there and called the neighbors to come and venerate the precious finding. A group of men was sent to notify the priest, Fr. Sebastian Alvarez at Santa Cruz.
Upon hearing the extraordinary news, the priest and people set out for Chimayo. When they arrived at the place where the Crucifix was, Fr. Sebastian picked it up and carried it in a joyful procession back to the church. Once in the church, the Crucifix was placed in the niche of the main altar. The next morning, the Crucifix was gone, only to be found in its original location. A second procession was organized and the Crucifix was returned to Santa Cruz, but once again it disappeared, The same thing happened a third time. By then, everyone understood that El Sefior de Esquipulas wanted to remain in Chimayo, and so a small chapel was built.”
Like I said I’d been here before years ago, each time I’ve come I’ve done so for very different reasons; collecting the dirt and using it in a variety of ways. I’d never been before as a person with health issues – heart break yes, sadness yes, fear yes…disease NO – but then aren’t these things precursors to dis-ease?
As we rolled through the hills climbing deeper into the mountains my mind began to quiet, it was so cold that day – the winds come to the Santa Fe high desert in March and April packing much punch, a high of 40 degrees feels like 20. In my Princess Know It All fashion I refused to listen to the weather report, filling my suitcase with flimsy dresses, tights and scarves – of course one impractical velvet tuxedo jacket. On this day I found myself wearing everything I’d brought at once – it’s a great thing that I’d had so much practice leading up to lent.
Upon exiting the car it was as if a spell came over the four of us, “Bam” we were in our own worlds – Iva with her camera and me with my heart. I joined in with the other pilgrims by picking up sticks and weaving them into the fence – forming the sign of the cross, dang that wind was whipping me…
Finally Lee and I made our way to the tiny church, I expected the church to not offer much comfort from the cold – being that it’s quite old and made of mud/stone. Still shivering, I dipped my hand into the holly water making the sign of the cross – I reached for the large wooden doors “whoosh a warm blaze of heat wrapped it’s self around me”. I made my way to the front pew bowing before kneeling I had to fight from not falling over and curling into a ball. The room was full of candle light -the windows being to tiny to led much of the bright sun shining outside, this romantic light brought to life all the colors of the hand painted Spanish antique wooden art that filled the room. I quickly began to run through the list of prayers and people, my sister, brother, nephews, nieces, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, adopted family – my parents of all forms, my girls, Lee. You see I’m a HUGE believer in prayer and wishes, I’m known for making wishes when ever possible. I was running the list when I heard a little whisper – STOP. Stop talking, thinking and praying and now watch…. like a movie I saw all the good in my life, in everyone’s life that I walked in praying for. I saw my house, my girls playing outside with my sister, I saw me a year ago unable to move at times, I saw me now vibrant and strong, I saw Lee and his love for me, I saw all the laughter that my family fills rooms with…I saw gratitude.
Then the voice – “Stop seeing what you need & wish for – instead see how great what you have is & how well all your loved ones are.”
I stood up walked into the little room in the back where the dirt appears, it felt crowded in there and yet I was the only one; I looked up at all the requests for miracles and offering stories of miracles. I walked back out into the church and knelt before the alter, listening again to the voice inside my heart– “The miracle of this place is that it is a place of BELIEF – BELIEF – is the miracle.”
I turned to see Lee standing at the back of the church witnessing me and holding a cup of dirt, as I walked out of the church I felt as if I had been crying for hours and yet I’d not shed a tear.
Maybe this church is really a place where one takes it out, I brought my dirt home and it sits in front of me – I don’t need to place it on my tummy but look to see it everyday, a reminder of miracles.
The next day Lee was busy preparing for the screening and I rested and wrote. We had a wonderful dinner in a slammin’ sushi joint, I was able to spend time with my dear friend Dr. Carolyn Ross, MD…we spoke of my next plan of action – intravenous vitamin therapy. I’m feeling much better but I know I need a boost, Dr. Ross believes this will give my cells a boost in healing; my consultation is next week – super excited.
Back to the screening: I think ya’ll need a bit of back story here, I’ve been going to Teotihuacan for the past 15 years, I’ve done this journey a ton of times and to say it’s something I “enjoy” is a stretch. This journey through Teo is tough, pushing on all the places that ache, unraveling the balls of yarn that keep us tethered to what torture us. With that said, I had NO interest in watching a movie about it - but I love Lee..The lights dimmed, the screen filled and I was HOOKED! FO’REAL FO’SHO HOOKED!
In fact I had an incredibly moving experience, I sat on the edge of my seat wanting to KNOW what came next, seeing the magic of Teo as if for the first time…I listened to the people on the screen with the ear of someone who wasn’t there – I WAS there for the filming. All I can say is that this team of folks really put a fantastic film together.
That night I looked at my husband and saw him as my best friend, he did it…he completed one of his dreams, I came to support him and I left with inspiration.
In his reflection I saw that I can do the same..look out ya’ll!
Although I’m home from our Florida “Benjamin Button” themed journey, I am still reflecting. Spending time with people who have already finished the greater part of their lives and are now reflecting on who they were and what happened has created a lasting impression in my mind.
I guess a by the time you’re 80 you become wiser- you know you will either survive or not and fighting it just is a waste of the moment.
Sweetness is much more important than confrontation, so what does it matter?
My grandparents and my mother in law and Idora (who is Idora?), are for sure living from a place of sweetness and deciding not to view life with “Hi I Hold On To Things” eyes.
I spent most of my days (in Florida?) sitting at a small table in the kitchen with Idora. Idora was a perfect meal mate; she has to chew 50 times (her teeth are not so good anymore) which led to both chewing and eating in silence.
Every once in a while she would look up and stare out the window, shake her head, giggle to herself and say “I’m Old and I’m Black.”
Soon enough, my daughter, Lola, was walking around the house singing to the music only she could hear in her head: “She’s Old and She’s Black..She’s Old and She’s Black…” Then she’d giggle like Doe… (Who is Doe?- is it Idora?)
What I really wonder is, do we ever really see the person standing in front of us?
Or, do we only see our memories of someone or of a situation that is triggered by that person standing before us?
Let me explain: One of the women that works for my mother-in-law got herself all worked up and in a tizzy. You see, years ago her husband suffered from Cancer. He went on a strict diet and wouldn’t allow her to assist him in any way, and subsequently, he also got very thin. The good news is that whatever ailed him went away and he is now in his 80′s and healthy!
Instead being happy that he was well and alive or being happy watching me take the time to prepare my food and think about the choices I offer my children, my mother-in-law failed to see MEE. Instead she could only see her husband and how he isolated her. She was unable to listen to any of the great conversation I thought we shared because she was all tangled up in her own personal fearful and judgmental memories. She was unable to separate the past from present and passed her past poison onto me…
This happens to everyone all the time; we do it in almost all of our interactions and relationships, especially our male-female relationships.
I just wonder, can we ever really see the person in front of us? hmmmm…
Another example is high school reunions. Mine is coming up soon and I wonder, how many of us will be able to see the people that are actually before us rather than the memory of who they were in high school?
Sure, some folks won’t have changed a bit inside, arrested in their emotional development – but most people have spent the past 10 to 20 years stepping up to the plate and stretching our minds and hearts. This created new people, returning to the old world of high school.
Image is also a very interesting thing; some people never look past the mask that is presented. They form an opinion (opinions are NEVER true- they are always JUDGMENTS) of the mask and then tie it to some memory of another situation so that they can’t even hear whatever “convo” is going on around them… They are set off in another direction by the image, because their relationships are based on their own “IMAGE” that they present to the world – rather than their deeper relationship with life.
The lady who couldn’t hear or see me was so caught up in all of the things she was afraid of that every time she looked at me she could only see fear and hear fear (we twist everything we hear when we hear with fearful ears). She felt so rejected by her husband that this rejection sat inside her, turning to anger and then poison… total bummer dude.
