Spirit, Heart and Mind: An Interview with Miguél A. Tórrez

Aristotle once said “if you would understand anything, observe its beginning and its development.” I believe that the great Greek philosopher intentionally excluded “its end” when he said this. History has no end, therefore, there are constant developments. This quote could not ring more truthful for a lover of family history. There is something about knowing where we came from that makes us feel complete. When it comes to the art of research, there is a genealogist who grew up in Ranchitos that is making major contributions to our history. This man has a passion for traditional and scientific research, which makes him a well-rounded historian.

I have known Miguél Tórrez for many years. The first time I met him he was feverishly working on his genealogy with his small boys by his side. He has been interested in history since he was just a boy, but in his early 20s he was seemingly smitten by the history of those who came before him. This was just a few years after Miguél graduated from Española Valley High School. Growing up in Ranchitos, New Mexico, Miguél was near the historic Ohkay Owingeh (San Juan Pueblo). At that time he couldn’t imagine that several years later his maternal line would be genetically connected to this type of ancestry. He says “current data tells us that approximately 80-85% of all New Mexicans with colonial roots have Native American roots on their maternal lineage (mtDNA).”

The final week I collected photographs from Miguél for his feature piece he was preparing for Holy Week. His spiritual devotion bears the deep roots of tradition. As a genealogist, learning about traditions and even practicing tradition will foster a clear understanding of what shaped our people. Miguél believes that “knowing oneself through culture and language fosters a sense of pride” and this belief is evident when you hear him lecture. I asked him why he felt that our traditions were important and he said “no matter what culture a person belongs to everyone’s culture is important because it gives people an identity.”

~~Santo Niño in Espinosa, Colorado by DeSautel~~

By now I’m sure that Miguél has a family tree which extends further than I can imagine. He has done so much work and he is always willing to help others in need, which is admirable. Many people who don’t understand the breadth of family history are unaware of the vast collection of surnames they can be connected to. Miguél says that “just two generations back we can see our extended relations.” Between his grandparents and great grandparents he can claim the Torres, Romero, Madrid, Roybal, Rodriguez, Martinez, Medina and Trujillo surnames. He is proud to have discovered that some of his relatives were involved in very important historical events such as the Apache Campaigns and the Rio Arriba rebellion of 1837.

Miguél has tracked military service on his paternal (Torres) line back to Cristoabl de Torres who was born in 1641. He seems to appreciate the fact that a grandfather named Juan “loved to tell stories about his grandparents and all of his relatives.” This grandfather was born in 1915 and had extended family from Chimayó to Cordova, New Mexico. “As a child I was given a visual of life in the 1920s with his stories of travels he and his father would take on horseback and wagon to communities such as Mora where they would travel to sell their produce,” he said. Though his grandfather practiced oral history, Miguél has now harnessed the power of documentary evidence and genetic studies.

~~Three Generations of Torres Y-DNA~~

Miguél is currently in charge of about 100 paternal lineage (Y-DNA) kits. He collaborates regularly Angel Cervantes, the New Mexico DNA Project Coordinator/Group Administrator. This DNA project includes “the colonial expeditions of New Mexico by the Spanish in 1598 and 1693, by the Mexicans in 1821, and by the Americans in 1848.” This weekend Miguél will make a presentation titled “The Espinosa DNA Quest.” On Saturday (April 20, 2013) he will deliver a lecture at the Albuquerque Main Library (501 Copper SW~ Albuquerque, New Mexico) on the discovery of the Y-DNA genetic code of the Nicolás de Espinosa lineage (which includes 18th century branches of that clan). The presentation will run from 10:30~12:00 and is sure to be captivating.

When I asked Miguél what he wanted people to remember about him 200 years from now he said “I hope that the work I am doing will produce results that are worthy of scholarly articles and will serve as a worthy reference thus having historical relevance. As a young man I hope that I will have many successful years in doing so and that many generations will remember my name as having been a valid contributor to the preservation of New Mexican history and culture.” I guess as lovers of history we couldn’t ask for more than that right? Here is to one amazing man making a positive contribution to our communities and to the future through history.

Eye 2 Eye

“Why does the eye see a thing
more clearly in dreams than
the imagination when awake?”

~~~Leonardo da Vinci

When Leonardo da Vinci contemplated the clarity of his visions he must have wished he was always asleep. Surely the genius of the Italian Renaissance was afforded the luxury of unrestricted creativity in his dreams. There he could perceive alternate realities. There he could understand complexity. Why? I believe that Leonardo was able to open his third eye of knowledge through his dreams. In a spiritual dream state his ideas were clear.

Sometimes we don’t see eye to eye with others. It can be difficult to understand when seeing eye to eye is so desired. In college I took many traditional courses in psychology, philosophy, and religion. Today I was reminded of the three eyes of knowledge, as well as the information that they are able to capture and convey. If we take a look at the eyes of knowledge, each level, each function, we can get a better understanding of why people disconnect or lose eye contact if you will.

In the thirteenth-century there was a religious philosopher named St. Bonaventure. By all accounts, Bonaventure was a great man. He was respected by the church and became one of our greatest philosophers. The Western mystic developed the concept of “three eyes.” The “eyes” were the three methods that men and women utilized to attain knowledge. In his book Breviloquium, St. Bonaventure discusses knowledge and wisdom at length.

The first eye is associated with physical phenomena. The second eye with mental phenomena, and the third eye with spiritual phenomena. Numerous individuals within the humanities believe that we do not only see with our eyes. The larger part of that which we are able to see derives from the mind’s eye. Philosophers, psychologists, and theologists also believe that many may never see with the third eye of knowledge. I myself feel that I see regularly with the Eye of Reason, which is also called the mind’s eye.

1^st Eye… Eye of Flesh is the eye we use to see the outside world. Here we actually employ physical sight to see material objects and gain knowledge from those objects.

2^nd Eye… Eye of Reason or the mind’s eye is used to attain knowledge associated with the flesh. We also use this eye to analyze abstract thoughts and ideas. This eye includes, but transcends the Eye of Flesh so it is a combination of physical and intellectual knowledge. This has also been referred to as intellectual sight.

3^rd Eye… Eye of Contemplation or the Eye of the Spirit is only open when we become fully illuminated with spiritual insight. Most people still have this eye closed. It is said that only true mystics see with this eye.

It is hard to understand why seeing eye to eye in a world of knowledge is difficult. Maybe it is simply that your eye is closed while my eye is open or vice versa? Maybe like Leonardo da Vinci, we should rely on our dreams? Maybe doing so would allow us to open each eye and perceive alternate realities or even reconnect? Why? Because in our dreams, ideas are clear.

In the Marriage of Heaven and Hell, William Blake said “if the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, Infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro’ narrow chinks of his cavern.” Apparently Blake also contemplated translucent eye lids.

A Look at the Symbols in Bless Me Ultima

On Sunday my sister and I took our mom to the movies. This week is her birthday and she has been wanting to see the new movie Bless Me Ultima. The movie is based on a book written by Rudolfo Anaya. The novel took the writer many years to finish, and he is said to have employed spirit guides and his subconscious mind to complete this work. It was published in 1972. The book has been used in classrooms for many years because it is well respected in the world of Chicano literature. I was also very anxious to see the film because I knew it featured a curandera and that it would be filled with love, magic, history, land, nature, herbs, and witches. What’s not to love? A curandera is a female folk healer who uses faith as a weapon. She also employs good magic using herbs, spirit guides, and the power of the natural world around her. The story is not that of Ultima’s. It is the story of a young boy named Antonio Márez y Luna, an outside spectator who is contemplative of many things.

Our Tickets to Bless Me Ultima on 10.28.2012

Photo I took of Ultima “La Grande”
and Antonio in the movie Bless Me Ultima

At first I was surprised to learn that the movie was two hours long. I must say that there was not one moment of the movie that didn’t capture me completely. We laughed and we cried as a New Mexico story graced the big screen in a way that I have never seen. I have one of the original runs of Anaya’s book. When I was a girl I remember reading the book in school, and in college we did chapter studies. I felt that the film flawlessly embodied and conveyed the heart of the original story. We all loved the film. I always feel so blessed to have people in my life who understand me. As we left the theater, I explained to my mom and my sister that I was taking notes on my phone. My mom said “I know,” and my sister said “I figured.” In some movies I have attempted to take in a notebook, but it is hard to see what you are writing in the dark and have found it much easier to jot down thoughts in draft form on my phone. One day I aspire to complete a full literary analysis of this novel, but for tonight I will deliver the symbols I derived from the film.

Photo I took of the funeral procession
of a Trementina witch sister
in the movie Bless Me Ultima

When we were leaving I told my mom that I saw so many symbols in this film. I adore my mature and intense mind. My mom was very curious about the symbols I saw, so I dedicate this to her. Maybe with any luck I will make her and my sister just as crazy as I am! If you have or haven’t seen the film, or even if you have only read the book, look deeper. In my mind, symbolism is about connection. A symbol is a connection~ usually from sight to an object or idea (with the mind)~ to a feeling (with the heart)~ and then ultimately to a person, place or thing. Following are the symbols I ascertained from Bless Me Ultima. This was not Ultima’s story, however, she embraced symbolism like no other character in Anaya’s novel does. The end of the movie brings the strongest and most poignant quote. When “La Grande” dies, Antonio laid her to rest and said “I did not cry~ her voice is everywhere.” The quote confirms a connection of all symbols in the book and film.

Symbols in the Movie

Ultima or “La Grande”~ was a symbol of love, sacrifice, life, death, land, faith, respect, acceptance, forgiveness, nature, power, protection, knowledge, tradition, and healing

Ultima’s Owl~ was a symbol of protection and sacrifice

The Moon~ was a symbol of mystery, land, time, magic, and knowledge

The River, Rain and Water~ were symbols of life, death, healing, abundance, and the seasons

The Land, Herbs, and Farming~ were symbols of home, family, tradition, knowledge, continuity, and healing

The War~ was a symbol of evil, change, vice, and sin

Death~ was a symbol of fear, evil, mortality, and immortality

Religion~ was a symbol of connection and disconnection

To Remember: Keep the Flame Alive

Stone Altar and Candle
Santa Gertrudis Church
Mora, New Mexico
~~Photograph by Felicia Lujan (2012)~~

Wooden Entrance Sign
Santa Gertrudis Church
Mora, New Mexico
~~Photograph by Felicia Lujan (2012)~~

Exterior of Santa Gertrudis Church
Mora, New Mexico
~~Photograph by Felicia Lujan (2012)~~

Santa Gertrudis Church
Mora, New Mexico
~~Photograph by Felicia Lujan (2012)~~

Since so many of my Valdez family members have recently discovered my site, it is only right that I highlight some history of the Mora Valley tonight. There are some that are far away and my not have a chance to visit the area often. I decided to share some photos I took during a recent funeral of one of the Valdez men- Gary. May he rest in peace. When his funeral ended I took some time to walk around by myself and really absorb the history of this scared place. This is the church where my maternal great grandmother and great grandfather married. Historically, the plaza which envelopes the church was once known as Santa Gertrudis Lo de Mora, which is the present day town of Mora. Church registers can be found in the 1845 Mexican Census and offer a rare glimpse into early settlers of the valley.

1981 painting of Santa Gertrudis Church in 1890s
Artist- Fred Olivas
Mora, New Mexico

This church is the last remnant of the original plaza. The church was destroyed by fire in the mid 1960s, but was rebuilt a stones throw from main street in the same exact location. I will have to ask my mom and Ernie if they remember that? There are still several historic buildings on the property. This area is on the National Register of Historic Places and includes parish buildings, a small convent, educational sites, and some houses. It is amazing to think about how the population changed in Mora over the decades. I am not sure what the total population is today, however in 1860 there were over 5,500 people living in the area. By 1920, the population was just under 14,000 and by 1970 it had dwindled down to about 4,600. The 1860 census documents several carpenters in the Mora Valley who were French-Canadian. I have linked the maternal side of my family (through a prenuptial investigation) to French-Canadian ancestry.

Stained Glass Window
Santa Gertrudis Church
Mora, New Mexico
~~Photograph by Felicia Lujan (2012)~~

In 1950, the famed historian, Fray Angelico Chavez said that some buildings in Mora exhibited “French rural flavor” with regard to architecture. Some of these “French” designs included Gothic Revival exteriors with the use of stone and pitched roofs, such as the “board-and-wood-shingle pitched roof” which was once on the church. I find it interesting to think that some of my relatives may have contributed to the architectural history of this small and beautiful Catholic church. My maternal grandmother was Corina Valdez y Brisal de Garcia. My grandma Corine was a Mora girl at heart, but she passed away in Santa Fe, New Mexico. She was the oldest of five children born to Alfonso Valdez and Felicitas Brisal. I am named after my great grandma Felicitas. I do know that my great grandparents were married in Santa Gertrudis Church on November 27, 1915. They would have married in the original church building before it was destroyed by fire. I do wish I knew what the inside looked like then? If my grandma was still alive, I could ask her.

Baptismal Pool
Santa Gertrudis Church
Mora, New Mexico
~~Photograph by Felicia Lujan (2012)~~

My grandma was born to her mother and father on September 24, 1916. She was baptized on October 2 that same year. Her godmother and godfather were her grandparents (my maternal great great grandparents) Roman Valdez and Porfiria Maes. There were four other children to follow my grandma. These children were: Maximinio Valdez (born in 1918); Jose Eugenio Valdez (born in 1920); Maria Lara de Jesus Valdez (born in 1922); and the final child was Crecencia (Cres/Chencha) Valdez (born in 1926). I am sure each and every one of these family members were baptized in this church, which made my visit to the church that much more special. I can’t explain the feeling of awe I get to travel the path of those who came before me. Visiting that church that day also reminded me how important it is for us to remember. It is important to remember those who were blessed in a sacred place and those who were laid to rest in a scared place. It is our duty to keep the historic flame alive.

Virgin Mary
Santa Gertrudis Church
Mora, New Mexico
~~Photograph by Felicia Lujan (2012)~~

Stained Glass Window
Santa Gertrudis Church
Mora, New Mexico
~~Photograph by Felicia Lujan (2012)~~

Angel
Santa Gertrudis Church
Mora, New Mexico
~~Photograph by Felicia Lujan (2012)~~

Burning Old Man Gloom

Last week my brother and his son went to go see Zozobra burn to the ground. For over 85 years, this creepy and super-sized marionette has been put to death as part of the Fiestas de Santa Fe. His burning is symbolic, still the burning of Old Man Gloom may be the strangest thing you have ever heard of if you are not from Santa Fe, New Mexico. I would even venture to say that maybe some New Mexicans may be a little frightened by the thought of the huge paper man Santa Fe torches each year. What are we thinking? To understand this tradition one has to look deeper. Zozobra or Old Man Gloom has come to be a symbol of our collective worries, heartaches, troubles, and hardships. The community burns him away along with any negativity they wish to shed for that particular year. I have seen him burn several times throughout my life and I must admit, it can be a bit scary. The goal of the event is to walk away better then you were before, spiritually and emotionally. So even if you do not attend the physical burning of the puppet, you are still able to symbolically clear your problems once the gloom is gone.

Article about Zozobra_Santa Fe New Mexican_9.4.1926

Over the years people have asked to stuff Old Man Gloom with all kinds of physical things. These are always things that they feel connected to, but need to disconnect from physically and emotionally. I have heard of court records, old letters, photographs, trinkets, and even a wedding dress being used as filling. These all being symbols of worries and/or containing negative energies. I have seen Zozobra being made and it is something. I think the year I went to watch him being constructed, his eyes were made using record albums which were painted with bright green glow in the dark paint. Before he goes up in flames, a fire dancer dressed in a red suit and ghosts or spirits appear at his feet. They dance around and terrorize the puppet with torches. I was a ghost when I was young, and I believe that was with my old friend Becky? The marionette never goes quietly. He moans, groans, and howls until the very end. Finally he is consumed by flames and the calls of a chanting crowd. The crowd yells “burn ‘im, burn ‘im,” and then they cheer wildly once he is set aflame and fireworks grace the night sky.

My nephew Isaiah (in the black shirt)
and his buddies at Zozobra 2012 in
Santa Fe, New Mexico. Old Man Gloom
is making his guest appearance in the back.
~~Photo by Thomas Lujan (my brother)

This tradition is credited to an artist by the name of Will Shuster (1893-1969). New Mexico has forever been home to the artistically mad. The artist invented the puppet in the 1920s, and according the the State Historian “his inspiration for Zozobra came from the Holy Week celebrations of the Yaqui Indians of Mexico; an effigy of Judas, filled with firecrackers, was led around the village on a donkey and later burned.” The word Zozobra derives from the Spanish word for gloominess. In 2007, the local newspaper published an online documentary about Zozobra. Ray Valdez was interviewed by the Santa Fe New Mexican and according to Valdez, the huge puppet is created by at least “700 volunteers,” uses “over $50,000 in resources,” and the event takes “an entire year to plan.” Zozobra is constructed using a wood and chicken wire frame and then he is covered in paper and paint. Since he is strapped with fireworks and is made of flammable material, he is quickly exhausted by flames and smoke (well almost always).

Article about Zozobra_Farmington Daily Times_8.30.1950

You can see some of the action here for yourself. I have included three YouTube videos of Zozobra. The first is footage from 1991. That is the earliest footage I came across on the tube tonight. I do know we have some older footage in the archives. There is one video of the burning of Old Man Gloom last year (2011), and also part one of a documentary. Next year, if you have troubles to squander, be sure to come to Santa Fe and “burn ‘im.” Honestly, I really can’t picture Santa Fe without the old man. We all have a little gloom to burn.

Meaningful Coincidence: A Visit to the Spirit World

**THE PEACE PIPE**
Photograph by Carl Moon
Image No. 417717, Photography Collection
Miriam and Ira D. Wallach Division of Art, Prints and Photographs
New York Public Library

For the last few days, I have really been thinking about being mortal. Over the last few years, I have had a handful of strange dreams which I believe connected me to a spiritual dimension. Monday night following a friends funeral, I found myself wondering how people would remember me when I am gone? Last night I contemplated where I would be laid to rest? It may seem odd to think about these things- but I am a Virgo- a planner- I am organized- I feel that there is a place for everything and everything should be in it’s place. I simply care about the little things, and apparently my personal legacy. When my thoughts are heavy before I fall asleep I dream lucidly. After posting about my family in Mora, New Mexico last night, I had a dream about the mountains there. I could smell the clean air and the rain. I could see the beautiful land and distant sky. I felt connected to my history. That would be a good place for my ashes to whisk away on the curls of the Northern winds into the trees. The dream seemed real. This morning I was amazed to see that while I was in dream land, there was a woman with ties to the North Sea thinking about mortality, connection, and spirituality just like me.

On October 18, 2011, I wrote a short piece to honor one of the most spiritual men I have ever known who had passed away. The post was titled The Death of Cloud Eagle. Ernest Eugene “Bo” Mirabal “Cloud Eagle” a celebrated Nambe Pueblo artist, educator, spiritual and community leader, died on October 13, 2011. At the time of his death, his father Ernest Mirabal was the Governor of Nambe Pueblo. I interviewed Cloud Eagle as a reporter for the Santa Fe New Mexican in 2000, and loved his symbolic take on his art pieces as well as his feelings about connectedness. I had many lovely comments on that particular post. One was from Phillip Kansa “Spirit Bear.” Another was from Cloud Eagle’s daughter Nakiva Mirabal who said her father was “free and flying with the eagles.” A former Governor of Nambe Pueblo, Thomas Talache also weighed in. But because of my thoughts yesterday, and my dreams from last night, I was stunned to find a comment from one of Cloud Eagle’s friends on my site this morning- it was a meaningful coincidence.

Stefanie Neumann linked into my site in her post titled “Oneness in Diversity – Einheit in der Unterschiedlichkeit” through her blog titled Kokopelli Bee Free Blog. While I was sleeping she connected with me. She calls herself a “Dreamer. Visionary. Connector. Peacefounder. Adventurer. Teacher. Lerner. Writer. Embodied Spirit.” Her site also says she is a “teacher for New Consciousness.” Amazing! What I found most interesting about this was her partaking in the pipe ceremony yesterday in memory of Cloud Eagle. If you do not know about the importance of this ceremony to Native Americans and how it connects people to the spiritual world, here are some quick and dirty facts. The pipe symbolizes prayer, the smoke symbolizes words, the fire represents the sun and the source of all life. Those things smoked in the pipe have roots because they penetrate the earth (a symbol of our mortality) and the smoke rises to the heavens (a symbol of the immortality of our souls). Yes- yes- Stefanie Neumann’s connection to me at that specific moment in time was indeed a meaningful coincidence.

What Will Remain?

Bubble Flower by Josephine Wall

Today I attended the memorial, funeral, and a gathering for a friend. I had worked with him for eight years and I had grown accustomed to seeing him everyday. Randy Forrester was a bright spirit with a good heart. I will miss our weekly chats about the new recipes we had experimented with over the weekend. He would tell me how good what he made came out and then he would say “I’ll make you a copy of the recipe— this one’s a keeper Felish.” His memorial was beautiful. I cried the moment I saw his white baby shoes and a little blue toy turtle he had as a child. While I listened to one person after another say wonderful things about him, I started wondering what people would remember about me? This is what sparked my idea for the following piece. Hopefully, when my time is done I will have stained a few minds, and people will remember that I 2 have a good heart. I guess that is the main thing I want people to remember about me. After-all, I feel it is the most important thing to be remembered.

Tree of Wonders by Josephine Wall

~~~~~~~~~~

What Will Remain?

~~~~~~~~~~

When I die what will remain once
the sun sets on my final day?

Will those I still keep ever close
have said all they have to say?

~~~~~~~~~~

Will you hear my laughter on the
wind? Your happiness is key.

Never forget, there is no doubt
that with you is where I’ll be.

~~~~~~~~~~

If I whisper softly into your ear would
you still be glad to hear my voice?

Would you walk through fire to touch my
hand if you had no other choice?

~~~~~~~~~~

It may well be that all I’ll leave
behind is this never ending dream.

If that’s the case, carry it on though
things aren’t always what they seem.

~~~~~~~~~~

Will you remember all the things I
did from the bottom of my heart?

Just keep me in mind on the coldest
of days should we ever part.

~~~~~~~~~~

Would you see my face in every cloud
and put your arms up to the sky?

When I die what will remain
once you say your last goodbye?

~~~~~~~~~~

by Felicia Lujan
8.20.2012

Good Friday: The Penance of Imperfect Creatures

~~~~~…..~~~~~…..~~~~~…..~~~~~…..~~~~~…..~~~~~…..~~~~~

“As machines become more and more efficient and perfect,

so it will become clear that imperfection is the greatness of man.”

*****Ernst Fischer

~~~~~…..~~~~~…..~~~~~…..~~~~~…..~~~~~…..~~~~~…..~~~~~

“Sometimes we strive so hard for perfection

that we forget that imperfection is happiness.”

*****Karen Nave

~~~~~…..~~~~~…..~~~~~…..~~~~~…..~~~~~…..~~~~~…..~~~~~

Being human is one of the hardest jobs that many of us have ever had. The struggle between the good and bad, the dark and the light, the positive and the negative, at times can be overwhelming. Sometimes just a reminder of inescapable imperfection is enough to comfort the weary. Like with anything else in life, we need to do our best to walk a crisp line, and be the best people we can be right? In 1973, the Journal of Religion and Health (Vol. 12, No. 1) published a paper titled Saints and Sinners by Harry C. Meserve. In the paper, Meserve was “pondering the mystery of sanctity,” and he says that “the world’s moralists have tended to divide mankind between the saints and the sinners, ourselves and the enemy, the sane and the insane, the wise and the foolish; and these distinctions, sometimes descriptive, are usually inadequate.” Meserve goes on to say that “we come into the world neither good nor evil, but with a potential for both. We end up, unless we are true saints, as some what mixed beings, with, one hopes, the weight on the side of goodness.”

My uncle Rick Lujan has always walked to El Santuario de Chimayo with his lion cane. He made the cane out of a juniper branch, and it was the first carving he ever made. Today the cane is about five inches shorter because of the walks.

This week marked the annual Holy Week pilgrimage to El Santuario de Chimayo, in Chimayo, New Mexico. People from all over the world, and from various religious backgrounds walk hundreds of miles to the sacred Catholic site to ask for forgiveness, and pray for blessings. Saints and sinners alike make the trip to pay homage, erase darkness, and inspire the light. “Three pueblos, long abandoned, have been located in the area and dated, the earliest being about 1100 A.D.” Tewa Indians recognized Chimayo “as a shrine,” and “a place of healing.” Local accounts note that “in 1706 the Chimayo Valley was a part of the San Juan Parish. Later, in 1751, it was administered by the Holy Cross Church in Santa Cruz.” The Santuario de Chimayo was built in 1816 by Don Bernardo Abeyta, but a small chapel dated back to 1810. The site was dedicated to Our Lord of Esquipulas. There have long been “stories of the miracles performed through the healing earth beneath the shrine.”

My grandma Corine loved El Santuario de Chimayo when she was alive. This was a container of the holy earth she gave to me years ago. Her favorite was the saint who “wears old, worn shoes.” His name is Santo Nino or the Holy Child. There is likely no statistics to confirm the number of “sick” people who visit that saint. He continuously wears out his brand new shoes “from nightly trips giving aid to those in need.”

In 1996, the pilgrimage was called “a sacrifice,” and that is still true today. When I was young I walked countless times to the magical place with a well containing holy earth. The well was “the site of a holy apparition in the 1800s,” and “the soil where the apparition appeared is said to be holy and the source of miraculous healings.” Sinners and the “sick” need to be healed, thus droves of imperfect humans take containers, buy containers, and fill pockets with gritty holiness to ward off unwanted pains. In Saints and Sinners, Meserve said that there is “a division between good and evil; but the division, the conflict, is within each one of us.” Can miracles, faith, and a bit of sacred earth really cure the “sick?” Well according to Meserve, “the problem of the saint and the sinner within the same person is not unlike the problem of the healthy and the sick person within the same in individual. All of us, at one time or another, are sick. Yet elements of health exist in all of us, too, even when we are at our lowest ebb.” Apparently the answer is yes!

So why do so many make the Holy Week pilgrimage to El Santuario de Chimayo? Why do they ask for forgiveness? Why do they pray for blessings? Why do they need to cure the sickness? Are they saints or are they sinners? Maybe the latter really is one in the same? The only real answer– put simply– imperfection should be accepted because unfortunately, humanness is hard.

The Saint Wears Old, Worn Shoes by Alice Bullock- Santa Fe New Mexican, Pasatiempo, December 7, 1969

Sources:

~Native Mountain Villages- Santa Fe New Mexican, July, 16, 1951

~The Saint Wears Old, Worn Shoes by Alice Bullock- Santa Fe New Mexican, Pasatiempo, December 7, 1969

~Saints and Sinners by Harry C. Meserve- Journal of Religion and Health, Vol. 12, No. 1, 1973

~Obscure Oratorio Predates Famed El Santuario- Santa Fe New Mexican, Pasatiempo, February 21, 1985

~Faith Keeps Them Warm by Chris Roybal- Santa Fe New Mexican, April 5, 1996

400 Year Old Archive: Secrets of the Vatican

Clip taken from a section of a document in the Trial of Galileo (1633). The document is in the Vatican's Secret Archive- Clip taken from Vatican’s Secret Archives turn 400 years old- http://www.romereports.com/

*****
Today is the birthday of the Vatican’s Secret Archive, which dates back to January 31, 1612. The archive is full of amazing documents. Despite the colorful comments that can be found tied to the fact that the archive remains “secret,” this archive houses some of the most fascinating documents in the world. Documents in the archive have been made available with the pre-approval of authorities (of course) to academics and historians over the years. My guess would be that preference is given to scholars whom convey a positive image of the church. There are more than 50 miles of shelves in this archive. The records contained in the archives span 12 centuries of history. As an archivist who loves history, science, and the stars, my favorite documents housed in the archive would likely be those associated with the Trial of Galileo. He was a bit of a thorn in the side of the Roman Inquisition, and details of his 1633 trial are among the “secrets” this archive keeps. Galileo Galilei battled with the Catholic Church until his death in 1642. The church did not like him mainly because he was against the Aristotelian theory of the universe, and he favored astronomy and the Copernican theory. Artists have rendered interpretations (in various media) of his inquisition for centuries. It is a very interesting case! When you get a chance, check out this video footage about the anniversary of the archive at http://youtu.be/8naSnSysKmg.

*****

Clip taken from a document is in the Vatican's Secret Archive- Clip taken from Vatican’s Secret Archives turn 400 years old- http://www.romereports.com/

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*****Coat of Arms of the Holy See***** Is this a cryptogram? Things that come to mind... There are two keys- number 11? Why is one key gold and the other silver? The keys would open seperate doors, yet they are bound together by the handle and in the center (with a cross). I see the number 3 repeated 4 times in the crown. That equals 12. There were 12 Apostles. There were also several 12th-century Roman Catholic Church Councils. 12 is a symbol of cosmic order. "Europe's Apostasy and Idolatry The Flag: Do we see an 'ecclesiastical Babylon' in Europe? The European Union (EU) flag comprises 12 golden stars on a blue background. Officially it is claimed that the circle of 12 stars represents 'solidarity and harmony between the peoples of Europe', the number 12 denoting 'perfection, completeness and unity' (in the Bible, 12 denotes 'governmental perfection')."

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Vatican’s Secret Archives turn 400 years old

Originally published online on 1.31.2012 by http://www.romereports.com/

Within the walls of Vatican City is stored one of the most important treasures in the world, the Vatican’s Secret Archives.

Only a limited number of people can access documents kept here by the Catholic Church. It’s free to gain access, but only academics and historians are allowed and they must request authorization from the Vatican.

In 1810, Napoleon Bonaparte took over 3,000 documents to Paris. After his fall from power, the files over time made their way back to the Vatican. Although during these transfers, many valuable documents were lost, some of which were from the fifth century.

Today, 400 years after its creation, the archive has over 50 miles of shelving, filled with books, papal bulls, decrees and encyclicals that cover twelve centuries of history. Among its corridors, one can find documents like the parchment of acquittal of Clement V to the Templars, from August of the year 1308, and details from the trial of Galileo, as well as the request for a marriage annulment by England’s King Henry VIII.

To celebrate it’s 400th anniversary, the exhibition “Lux in Arcana” has been created. From March to September, visitors to Rome can find 100 documents from the Vatican’s Secret Archives on display in the Capitoline Museums.

Vatican’s Secret Archives turn 400 years old

http://www.romereports.com/palio/vatican%27s-secret-archives-turns-400-years-old-english-5959.html

A Single Drop in the Ever Flowing River

Today we spent the day hiking in Bandelier National Monument. The monument is about a 40 minute drive from Santa Fe. It was a gorgeous day, and the air was invigorating. Last time we were there, we did the main waterfall hike, but Daryn is still a bit little for that hike. None the less, with all the stairs, inclines, declines, and rough terrain, the hike was still a nice workout! I bought two new books on the trip. I ended up getting Dragonfly’s Tale by Kristina Rodanas, a fascinatingly illustrated book (dragonfly is another of my symbols). It would have been silly not to pick up The Manhattan Project: A Secret Wartime Mission. The book was edited by Kenneth M. Deitch, and was part of the Perspectives on History Series.

Bandelier National Monument

Bat Cave

Volcanic Ash Mountain

View of House and Pillar

Site 11

Sun Through Trees

Daryn

Snow

Two Stone Pillars

Ruins

Volcanic Ash Mountains

Daryn and Mike

Caves that look Like Skull

Daryn and Mike in Cave

Reconstructed Home

Mountain and Tree

Felicia

Kiva

Creek

Large Crack in Rock- Ancestral people believed the crack was a doorway to the spirit world.

“Bandelier National Monument protects over 33,000 acres of rugged but beautiful canyon and mesa country as well as evidence of a human presence” which goes “back over 11,000 years. “Petroglyphs, dwellings carved into soft rock cliffs, and standing masonry walls stand tribute to the early days of a culture that still survives in the surrounding communities.” The park was named after Adolph Bandelier, a Swiss anthropologist, and became a National Monument about four years after New Mexico became a state. It was very sad to hear from the first female ranger was encountered that the Las Conchas Fire burned close to 62% of the park in the summer of 2011. It is fortunate that the main areas of the park were not affected, but the wildlife surely suffered.

“The people who settled in the Frijoles Canyon are known as Ancestral Pueblo people. In the past, these people were identified as the Anasazi.” The National Park is not far from, and closely linked to San Ildefonso Pueblo. This is where my paternal great grandmother Catalina Roybal de Lujan lived prior to 1930. There are stone mountain walls in the canyon, which are compressed volcanic ash. Many of them are filled with holes and “cave rooms” or “cavates” carved in the cliff walls. The walls also feature ancient petroglyphs (removing stone to make a picture) of the Macaw. The Macaw was a very spiritual bird for ancient people. Their feathers were actually used in many religious ceremonies. We also saw a few pictographs (painted designs).

According to the National Register of Historic Places, Bandelier National Monument spans three New Mexico counties (Los Alamos, Sandoval, and Santa Fe). It is hard to believe that this monument stretches over more than 30,000 acres of land. Today, we covered only a few of those acres. I always find myself being amazed by how small I really am. The river literally never stops flowing in that canyon. Today I realized I represent just a single drop in the ever flowing river of vast New Mexico history.

Sources:

Publications acquired while visiting the park.

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National Park Service Web Site for Bandelier National Monument

http://www.nps.gov/band/index.htm

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National Register of Historic Places

www.nps.gov/nr/

Māori: Origins of a Warrior

Digital composite of a Māori Warrior by Felicia Lujan. Includes: multiple renderings of a Moko drawing of Te Pehi's face (1975 white paper); a photograph of a wooden Māori dagger (1920 white paper); and one contemporary photograph.

Origins of a Warrior

*****

Māori man, I can feel the power

of your breath. The energy in each

breath searches for listening hearts.

*****

Māori man, your ancestral cry

pierces me. Indigenous warrior, you

must protect your land and people.

*****
Māori man, your roots run deep.

They are so deep, that only the stars

can remember the origin of those

who came before you.

*****

Māori man, identity marked in thick

black will grace the face of your son.

The children of your children will

forever value your whakapapa.

*****

Māori man, I can feel the spirit

of this spiral of life. The force

gives me strength, and penetrates

my listening heart.

*****

by Felicia Lujan_1.25.2012

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Old Māori Proverb
“Ma te huruhuru te manu ka rere, Ma te ao te rangi ka uhi.”
“By feathers alone can the bird fly, By clouds are the heavens covered.”
————A Māori Bone Decorative Comb from Riverton by H.D. Skinner
————Journal of the Polynesian Society, Vol. 39, No. 3 (1930), Page 285

War cry of their ancestors, the War Haka or Peruperu is a traditional dance of the Māori of New Zealand. This dance is filled with powerful movements, which involve the entire body and spirit. With their eyes open wide, strong stances, and the use of their tongue, the Māori exude strength. Heavy sounds from the slaps of their hands, dominant foot stomps, and deep shouts, are used to evoke the God of War. This dance is fierce, and is performed with weapons. According to some accounts, the Haka changed dramatically following World War I, but I would need to do more research to confirm that.

I became enthralled with the Māori when Alan Duff’s independent film Once Were Warriors (1994) was released. Duff, a journalist, novelist, and native to New Zealand gave me my first taste of culture in the South Pacific Ocean. I wanted to know more about the islands of New Zealand, which are at least half a world away from me. The film is centered on the social problems of the Heke family, and is still used today as a tool by educators and historians internationally. What inspires me in this film are the themes of hope and family. I am so inspired by the ability of a family to draw strength from tragedy. When one son in the fictional family immerses himself in the spirit of his ancestors, some of the family members are able to band together with mighty force. After seeing these men perform the War Haka or Peruperu, I was intrigued.

From 2001-2003, with each release in the Lord of the Rings trilogy, I couldn’t help but remain mystified by the beautiful scenes filmed in New Zealand. There were breathtaking mountains, waters, and mystical places. The islands seemed magical. Through the cinematography in these movies, I could almost grasp the spirit of place. I was recently reminded of New Zealand by “a woman of strength,” Maryanne Pale (http://maryannepale.com/). Maryanne is the woman who nominated me for a Genuine Blogger Award. I was honored to be nominated by such a distinguished and beautiful writer. After discovering she was from New Zealand, I started to look into the origins, history, and mythology of the Māori.

I did track down four anthropological white papers written between 1901 and 1975. I was absolutely amazed to find out that the tattoo (moko) of the Māori often represents ancestral origins (genealogy). I couldn’t believe it?! As an archivist, as a genealogist, as an artist, and as a tattooed woman, I found this astounding. According to one anthropological account of moko designs, “the symbolism that governed an artist’s choices in composition has been lost.” It is understandable that the researchers are referring to hard copy records. Though actual records relative to the symbolism of moko designs may be nonexistent, certainly oral history and collective memory have preserved meaning. One account of an indigenous carver, said that he “was brought up to believe the different patterns in front of each ear represented descent from the male and female sides of a man’s family.”

It was also interesting for me to discover that the primary marks used by the Māori are “curves and spirals.” The spiral is of course one of my signs. I have been signing my art and poetry with the symbol since I was in my youth. I am always lead to the subjects of my writing for a reason, because as we all know, everything happens for a reason. Can you imagine wearing your lineage as a visual badge? It is a fascinating tradition to say the least. In the future, I hope to learn more about the Māori, and maybe one day I can visit New Zealand.

General Information:

Māori Haka
http://nz-maori.com/maori-haka.html

Lord of the Rings Trilogy- Film Locations
http://www.filmnz.com/locations-gallery.html#

Information on New Zealand
http://www.newzealand.com/

Scholarly Sources:

Māori Tatu and Moko by H. Ling Roth
Journal of the Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland, Vol. 31(1901), Pages 29-64

On Two Wooden Māori Daggers by William Ridgeway and H.D. Skinner
Man, Vol. 20 (1920), Pages 49-52

A Māori Bone Decorative Comb from Riverton by H.D. Skinner
Journal of the Polynesian Society, Vol. 39, No. 3 (1930), Pages 284-285

Moko and C.F. Goldie by Michael King
Journal of the Polynesian Society, Vol. 84, No. 4 (1975), Pages 431-440

Sunrise…

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This morning the sky looked amazing.

I stood in sheer awe and took in a New Mexican sunrise.

Santa Fe is such a beautiful place, even from my bock door.

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Sunrise in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Digital photograph by Felicia Lujan 1.19.2012.

 

*****

These unbolted eyes arrest an extravagant

morning sun. Today I awakened with newness.

Asdzaa nádleehé, Changing Woman is familiar

with vibrant rays following peaceful rest.

*****

You are a child of endless sky and the mountains

which soar. With colorful lips, please kiss this earth.

Peek over the horizon and say goodbye to twilight.

Take my breath. Infiltrate my soul and feel my worth.

*****

Wavelengths beacon me. They lead my feet to

frozen dirt, still, the warmth does succeed.

The brilliant rainbow overpowers shadowed trees.

Colorful brilliance will fill many needs.

*****

Changing Woman, mythical Navajo spirit,

only your gentle hands can move the light.

With your power, banish darkness. Wrap

my heart with the heavens and take the night.

*****

 by Felicia Lujan_1.19.2012

 

 11*****Posted using WordPress for BlackBerry*****11

Suffering and Inspiration: the Writing of Cesario Ortiz

My great great grandfather Cesario Ortiz asks for the protection of St. Joseph as his child suffers in 1910. His son was ill with Black Fever. He makes several religious references in his writing. Image title: Songe de St. Joseph (1880), LC-USZ62-36534, Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division- Washington, D.C.

Today the day was spent in Pojoaque, devoting several hours to my paternal grandmother Emily. The visit was intended to capture more research, and continue my exploration into the origins of creativity. I completed two interviews. One with my grandma, and the other with my father. They both had much to say, and my pencils went dull several times! The interviews went well, and I will be posting about those in between other pieces.

For tonight… I really wanted to share something that confirms I come from several generations of writers. I was brought to tears by a touching piece my great great grandfather had the courage to write. Cesario Ortiz lost his first wife during childbirth. She was a Romero. Though Cesario later married Adelia Garduño, at the time of his first wife’s death, he and Emilia had one son named Juan Eliu. Eliu was my great grandfather, and by the age of four he had been through things that would kill most. His mother had died, and according to his father he became very sick with Black Fever shortly after. The illness became so severe that it actually claimed his left arm and hand, and all but one of his fingers on his right hand. Talk about the origins of creativity… You would be amazed by what this man did with only one finger. He was a wood carver, a shoemaker, a barber, and he trapped coyotes and sold their pelts.

Spending at least a half an hour typing up my great great grandpa Cesario’s dramatic poem I had been attempting to get from my grandma for a long time got me tired. It was something I really needed to take the time to do. It was a piece he wrote from the point of view of his four year old son in 1910. First I tapped the keys of my laptop to capture the text in Spanish, then I captured the English translation (which was done by my grandma). It was long… I still didn’t get a chance to see the original, but I know that will come in due time. Little by little I have been peeling off the layers of paternal family history from my grandma. It will be a good day when I am able to witness the writings of my great great grandfather, which are over 100 years old. What will his penmanship be like?

Now you can see a portion of his piece for yourself… It is very sad. This is the second half of the poem. Like I said the original was written in Spanish, so what you will read is an English translation. I know that there is one important lesson I learned today. On those days when I am feeling sorry for myself, I will read my great great grandfather’s poem. That will help me realize that things could always be much worse.

And to continue my story

How I suffered I’ll tell you

As an orphan I am lost

I don’t know what I can do

For crippled I have become

With all this pain I feel

There are times that I am numb

But I know that it’s God’s will

***

This terrible disease I suffer

Black Fever it’s called by name

To God my body I offer

I can hardly stand the pain

All my body it has pierced

It will take me to my grave

This disease that is so fierce

to it I have become a slave

***

For a long time I have suffered

how can I endure the pain

All my prayers I have offered

All the saints I have acclaimed

for me there are no tomorrows

If I sleep, I don’t agree

Oh Holy Mother of Sorrows

Please have compassion on me

***

Oh these long eternal hours

Oh this aching agony

With this pain my body covers

for me there’s no remedy

Lord I am at your command

Help me with this misery

I’ve already lost a hand

keep me in your company

***

Oh truthful and merciful God

How much longer must I suffer

To you my body I offer

When the only hope I had

It seems like both hands I’m loosing

One finger is all I have left

the others I won’t be using

But only you know what’s best

***

The year is nineteen ten

My age is four years old

The year I lost my hand

That memory I’ll always hold

I’ll never forget the misery

The aching makes me feel wane

How can I forget the agony

For it is permanent pain

***

Oh God! I have lost my mother

Keep her in your company

My hands are also gone now

Suffering is part of me

Mary, Oh Blessed Virgin

You are my only remedy

How can I ever forget this

Please have compassion for me

***

In God I have placed my faith

and in the Immaculate Conception

with St. Joseph I feel safe

Please keep him in your protection

and with your compassion see

This child that truly suffers

Being only four years old, achingly my body I offer

Golden Sarcophagus

Golden Sarcophagus of Egypt’s King Tutankhamun

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Golden Sarcophagus
*****

Enshrine my laced up memories,
and keep them close to tell my tales.
Exquisiteness is beyond this life.
The exquisite cloaked in gilded veils.

Lovely coffin comfort me, and
insure protection of my essence.
Dissolve the temporary to meld
my spirit with your presence.

Embrace me fine palace of gold.
Sarcophagus, this body please devour.
Ornament of an Egyptian dynasty,
swallow me whole in the final hour.

Only fools open false windows to
reveal the true human form.
A royal bloodline fills the crypt,
to quell sequestered storms.

Golden sarcophagus give me
peace. Savor my ornate memory.
Remove carved hearts to make
room in the tomb of eternity.
*****

by Felicia Lujan_12.29.2011

A Creative Spirit: In Memory of Donald Garcia

“God gave us memories so that we may have roses in December.”

*****Sir James Barrie*****

Every Christmas I cherish the memories I have of my uncle Donald. He was a loving, creative, and kind man with a great personality. I have fond memories of him, my grandma, and her sister. It seems the holidays are a special time to recall some of these. In my post titled “A Smile is the Best Memory,” I traveled back in time to when I was just fourteen years old. In that post I talk about Christmas Eve at my grandmother’s house when I was in my youth. For the time travel piece I said… “Nearby the cinnamon in my Uncle Donald’s spiked nog tickles my nose. He has such an attention to detail. He uses intricate little cups, a fancy bowl and ladle to serve up his yearly concoction. He takes a cup and gives my mom some to try. ‘Tell me what it needs,’ he says. I can hear her smack her lips with a voiceless yum! He knows that means it needs nothing more, and nothing less.” My uncle always took pride in decorating my grandma’s house and her living room for Christmas. She was always so proud of her tree, and the nativity display he religiously put up each year. After he passed, another of my uncles did this for my grandma until she passed away in 2007.

My uncle Donald and my mother Gloria were very close. I always remember my uncle being there for my mom when she needed him- no matter what. It didn’t matter if she needed him emotionally, or simply to help her with tasks around the house. He was a very special person. When he passed away she was heartbroken. I will never forget the night he died because I was preparing to leave the country on my senior trip to Europe. It was 1993. I was told to stay up all night before that trip so that I would not get jet lag from such a long flight. I was writing (of course) during the wee hours of night when my mom received the saddening call. I almost didn’t go on that trip because I didn’t want to leave my mom. I knew she was very sad. She encouraged me to go, and told me that he would want me to go. Later that night, I heard taps on my bedroom window (about an hour after he died). I felt the taps were those of my uncle in spirit. He was sending me a sign that he was ok. I thought of he and my mom often on the trip.

This uncle also had an outstanding knack for creativity, and was undoubtedly a practitioner of aesthetics. I always felt that one of his most impressive feats was his “shack.” That’s what everyone in the Garcia Family called, and still calls his unique creation. “The shack” was basically what people would refer to as a “man cave” of sorts. It was a popular family hangout back in the good old days when we got together regularly. His shack still stands today, but sadly, it is now falling apart. I wanted to capture some of this history before it crumbles and disappears. As a little girl, I was always so impressed with the things he did in there. Looking back, I am almost certain that this shack was built completely of recycled materials. My uncle may have been “green” decades before others concerned for the well being of our planet.

The place was built using New Mexico earth (adobes). Some features of his beautiful creation include: vigas (circular beams) on the roof; drift wood embedded into the walls; adobe benches and nooks; mirrors embedded into the walls; a textured, and a wood panel adorned roof; adobe plant holders built into the walls; nichos (concave spaces); an indoor faux portal (fake entrance); interesting tables; a bar; an adobe fireplace; and a small sleeping area. He had a back door which opened up to all his beautiful flowers and plants, as well as an inventive backyard space. I miss the days I spent in “the shack.” I miss connecting with family. I miss listening to that crackling fire, as well as the adults laughing. I miss having fun together.

Cheers to good memories, and to the memory of a creative spirit in my family that is missed…

A Smile is the Best Memory
http://myvoyagethroughtime.wordpress.com/2011/09/24/a-smile-is-the-best-memory/