Letters from the Editor: March 27, 2011
There is No Beginning, There is No End and Life seems to go on and on. As I read back over what I have written over the years, is seems as if I have been Time Traveling, “Souvenirs” is a collection of one life. Will the real Wendy Zake please stand up?
|Taking a risk to be real and reveal who you are can be a very daunting challenge for most us. We have been programmed to keep our private life, Private. We all know people who will tell you everything detail of their life, or so you think. But, when you get to know the person on a more personal level you begin to realize, the not so good events about their life that they hide.
I have to admit, I am one of those people that hides. It has been a defense mechanism for me. I am not afraid to say what I think, as people know, I will always give you a truthful answer if asked. I often don’t volunteer information. It takes me a while to open up and feel safe enough to trust people. I believe that most people think the same way.
What would happen if we opened up and starting sharing who we really are? What if we stopped worrying about what people would think? What would happen if we just let ourselves shine through? Are you Ready to Take The Risk? Can you give yourself the Permission to be Real?
I’m ready, here I am. Being real! In case you are wondering why I would start a web site and promote all the wonderful people I know, with their poetry and articles and talents, I am going to tell you!
I don’t need to be just One Star, I want to shine among many Stars…..My Friends and You…. the people I don’t know. So it is here on this new site Global Light Minds, I will post a weekly article about my life, a collection of stories, poetry and chapters from my books. What I feel and what I think, I will share with you, together with my wonderful friends that are also sharing their story with you. This is a journey we all can share.
I have been writing all of life, I told myself when I was 21, that I would write and then when I got older. I would release all of that I had written, I wouldn’t hold back. I would live and experience my life to its fullest. I took every risk I thought I could and then some. I would finish my books, screen play, stories and all the poetry I had written for years. Guess What? I am that older person, Now!
I haven’t been driven by money to publish. To me writing has been a chronicle of a life, something to be shared, so other people could read about it and maybe it would help one other person to understand themselves. I have published a few poems online and many people have loved them and said, “Wendy, you should publish a book”. I wrote for a for Dive Travel Magazine for 10 years, about all the exciting places I visited. This time it would be others to share their story as well as my own.
But the thing about me is that I love publishing a magazine, it took me awhile to see that. I published a magazine for over 10 years, and when I stopped I was relived from all the responsibility that that had become overwhelming. Now, as I look back, it was the happiest time of my life. I loved being around and with other creative individuals, I loved sharing my adventures to people who sometimes only dreamed about was I doing. I began to understand, that I had gained the knowledge I was seeking and now was the time to write and write and write.
I have done some pretty wild and adventurous things in my life, none of which I regret. It hasn’t been all good, but I can say that those times when I have struggled, fell on my face, been broke, abandoned, stepped on, betrayed, lied to, have been the lessons I needed to learn, so I could be here.
What I have come to understand is, There is No Beginning and There is No End…..It just goes on and on. Your life is a miracle. Your life is what you make it. So Make it Real and Share Who YOU Are with The World. Shine with me among the many Brilliant Stars.
|People who keep it real present themselves as they truly are. They show us the good parts and the parts most of us would rather hide.
Most of us are familiar with the idea of keeping it real and have an intuitive sense about what that means. People who keep it real don’t hide behind a mask to keep themselves safe from their fear of how they might be perceived. They don’t present a false self in order to appear more perfect, more powerful, or more independent. People who keep it real present themselves as they truly are, the good parts and the parts most of us would rather hide, sharing their full selves with the people who are lucky enough to know them.
Being real in this way is not an easy thing to do as we live in a culture that often shows us images of physical and material perfection. As a result, we all want to look younger, thinner, wealthier, and more successful. We are rewarded externally when we succeed at this masquerade, but people who are real remind us that, internally, we suffer. Whenever we feel that who we are is not enough and that we need to be bigger, better, or more exciting, we send a message to ourselves that we are not enough. Meanwhile, people who are not trying to be something more than they are walk into a room and bring a feeling of ease, humor, and warmth with them. They acknowledge their wrinkles and laugh at their personal eccentricities without putting themselves down.
People like this inspire us to let go of our own defenses and relax for a moment in the truth of who we really are. In their presence, we feel safe enough to take off our masks and experience the freedom of not hiding behind a barrier. Those of us who were lucky enough to have a parent who was able to keep it real may find it easier to be that way ourselves. The rest of us may have to work a little harder to let go of our pretenses and share the beauty and humor of our real selves. Our reward for taking such a risk is that as we do, we will attract and inspire others, giving them the permission to be real too.
A Story of Love, A Discovery of Self,
Through visions, feelings and adventure
Secrets, Treasure, Mystery….
The Haunting of a Past Life.
“We spend our life until we are twenty deciding what parts of our self to put into the bag, and we spend the rest of our lives trying to get them out again.
It takes courage to re-own our lost parts, but authentic spiritually requires that we make the shadow visible and that we make which is divided whole.
By Wendy L Zake
@ 2011 All right reserved
1891 ‑ Spain – Sabina Alvear
Sabina Alvear is sitting at her father’s desk, looking out of the window while she writes the letter to her family in Spain and South America letting them all know that her book of The History of Don Diego de Alvear y Ponce de Leon has been completed. She is very old and very tired also very sad in the writing. Her hands are shaking as she writes. The furniture is massive, rugs and lamps are scattered about. A huge wall with many books shelves line the wall. An open French door is allowing the morning light to enter the room. She is in the family estate in Northern Spain.
Sabina is the daughter of Don Diego Alvear, she is in her late 70s. She has long gray hair that is tied in a neat bun at the nap of her neck. She is dressed in morning clothes.
She is seated in a room, a study in the old family house, at her father’s desk where she sits writing a letter. Book cases are filled with books and papers, The French doors are open letting in filtering lights, through old lace curtains.
To My Dear Nieces and Nephews of Spain and South America,
There are our more than enough women in our family, and that for something an Aunt fits someone’s purposes, I have tried to be brilliant, benevolence and discreet and serve as a writer and I am referring to this letter that I want actually, if it is possible for me, serving to form a togetherness that narrows the distances and fills the vacuum that exists between us. Distances that they have caused on the one hand, time being fast and accumulating year on year, and for another one, the distant of us belonging to different countries, separated by the great Atlantic Ocean. We have been living, with these circumstances for a very long time, I hope to strengthen our association and our infrequent conversations with you and others, it is not unusual that there are brothers that never have known each other. I address, Although not for that reason they had been less dear, than to the warm heartedness character of D Alvera’s y Ponce’s Diego, our loving father, he seems to have seeped into all of us, with similar characters belonging to all his children and grandchildren, the qualities such as physical and moral attributes, engraved like a stamp and indelible mark that make us alike, even though triumphant scandals and of serious obstacles they attempted to dwindle the native character mutually owed between individuals all of the same family, The Alvears.
I am talking about my honorable father! To our eyes, the same as our illustrious father and the head of several and numerous families settled in both worlds. Everything lifts each individual, anxious with deep concern to understand more of the person he was his daily life as well as his adventurous life.
His well‑known talent of intelligence, example and distinction between from those who adored him. Our Sovereign who set examples of solid virtue and heroic self-sacrifice. That he gave, and finally, the recognition for the many distinguished services that he shared with his Motherland in his long and laborious contributions. Three associations are counted between the culmination of his life, that stand out, influencing historic events of importance, not accustomed to the great nation of Spain, the fact that he extended himself immensely for both hemispheres, but also for increase of power, in countries which he distinguished to occupy during that period. We referred 1. To the difficult laborious and long commission of boundaries ‑ meaning surveying , between Spain’s controls and Portugal in the America South, whose works having the obligation resulting from a great interest, are joined as the same, for the new Republics that have taken shape. 2. To the unfortunate naval combat with the British people, at Cabo Santa Maria’s, the October 5, 1805, of so ill‑fated consequences. 3. To the defense and I govern of Leon’s Island in year 1810, during the War of Independence against the French.
Happily, for a his natural tendency of character, I have recorded in his memory, paying attention to his inerasable imagine, of the nobleman’s spirited image that not only represents my father, in spite of the long past time, but rather a lasting, as aforementioned the memory for everyone that repeated to me stories told to me in my infancy. I have heard repeated so many times, that you resemble, in my illusion, even the sound of your voice that he was sorry to not pay attention to you in your surprising brilliance and your expressive look.
Affection grew with the age, and my mother and a lot of other people that were there, who attempted with intimacy, so I could appreciate their comments of the events of their life their genius’s attributes and character, in order to satisfy the fiery to fan of my questions, they referred everything to me that they knew of him. Finally, as I grew older, an untiring curiosity has led me to look for and to read with major interest all that my father wrote himself in books and stories, and very especially in the numerous documents and letters, many other papers and their unpublished works, than in our house’s files with attention to detail that they were kept in good condition, confirming and completing the perfect knowledge than of our public and private history we already know.
Then, I must confess it ingenuously, he has seemed so interesting, so worthy to me to be known, at least for you, their grandchildren and descendants, to all of who you carry his name, enter which some, them but next without a doubt, there were manifested a great public desire of obtaining his works and making them public, asking me for equally for information on this and that and of his life that I had or would I give. I was hindered to find several to links and data that was gone, of his previous life that was interesting like good grades, but as my son‑and‑daughter began to help to start accumulating and expounding that the details maybe too intimate for people, strangers or foreigners, although I thought than to maybe that parts should be omitted, so that his characterized of character would not be subject, neither some of being ignorant or either forgotten by the family’s individuals, would not notice at first glance.
Had I not been influenced principally by the honest character of, my younger sister, in fact she encouraged me to write what was written in my father’s journals. I resolved to write the truth of my father’s history, however much of the unexpected work frightened me, and furthermore the nature of the hindrances in which came crashing, I was in daring hope of sailing across the dangerous waves of publicity, almost always rough for the woman.
There, then, you have it, just as it is I offer it to you, for you principally I have written it, receive it like the bigger proof of affection, if he could take its place, and in fair mindedness dissimulate the deficiencies that without a doubt you will find in here, because it is a History written without other pretenses than the of, with every truth, remembering events and making a copy of how I go by them or accomplish them our father, and if by any chance you are admired at the superior dignity that in all it shines always, no for that arrive to doubt that, confusing the common pessimism of the saying
Diego is standing over her as she writes; he has been dead over 30 years. His shadowy presence is not felt by Sabina, as she remembers her father as if from a dream with all the love in her heart. Diego pulls up a chair at her side to listen to her heart as she speaks slowly to herself about her Father and the truth she must tell. Diego thinks to himself about the consequences of what the book will mean once it has been read by his loving family and the generations of those that will come. Will it change the way he is perceived and remembered. He has no choice; this is out of his hands now.
I Don Diego of Alvear, thinks to himself, I was but admired for a lifetime and the most known and acknowledged for my attempt for a treaty between Spain, England and France.
As Sabina remembers her father, his dying days in Madrid, he as her father when she was but a small child. He was gone so much of the time; she did not really know who he was. He was always a mystery to her.
Diego ‑ As an old man, reflecting on his life, sitting in a chair while Sabina writes the letter. He is there with her.
Sabina face is calm as she finishes the letter to The Alvear family about the history of their most illustrious father, grandfather, uncle and leader.
Diego is seen sitting in the chair at the table with Sabina at the writing table, Sabina reads aloud her words as she puts her hands to her bowed head and tears roll off her cheeks on to the paper she is just finishing.
Sabina speaks out loud.
Unfortunately, this afternoon has passed quickly, the pen has run the time, there have been several accidents of diseases and deaths, enrapturing relatives to our character and friends wanted them maybe to have taken pleasure to read this book for the interest that his primary object inspired them, and most recent even, our Dear’s deceased D. Torcuato of Alvear, Distinguish Officer of Buenos Aires, has aggravated our sorrow, undoubtedly he has then been the reason prominent desire, evidenced that we wrote to each other and I would conclude it soon. This afternoon has been, Very sad for me.
Madrid May 11, 1891
There is no more magnificent a man deserving that I would rather be a servant too!
You can see Sabina’s face and the sorrow she feels as she writes the letter. Her words, can be heard as she finishes her letter.
Panama City, Panama – 1976
It was the summer of 1976, her last night in Panama City, Panama. Claire and her best friend Amanda had been traveling in South American for the past month; this was the last leg of their trip before heading home. They had asked the taxi driver at the airport, after they had landed from their flight from Buenos Aries, to take them to a hotel close to restaurants and shops. They were dropped off on a busy street in the middle of old Panama City. While unloading their back packs from the trunk of the taxi, they stood shielding their eyes from the blazing sun, trying to get their bearings. Claire pointed to a sign, “Hey there is a restaurant, Amanda, let’s have something to eat and have a beer, I’m starved and thirsty, We can ask about a hotel and see if there is one close by.”
Amanda looked across the busy street, agreeing “great idea, let’s go, its right on the water we can just watch the boats for a while, its early.” They had spotted a sign that read fresh lobster, across the busy street, as they darted between cars, they approached the louvered doors of the restaurant.
Entering the restaurant a young Panamanian man stood up and said, “Hola, Senoritas, como esta,” “Would you like a table by the water”? In perfect English, He asked, looking at Claire, Adjusting their eyes to the darkness of the smoky filled bar, she viewed a table outside under a covered terrace overlooking the harbor. “Sure, there is one right over there.” She pointed to a small table for two. Continuing through the bar, eyes followed them as they walked through the room. Both girls were in their earlier twenties, Claire with long red hair was tall and thin with a bit of mystery to her, Amanda had dark brown shiny hair and the most beautiful blue eyes, she also had a gorgeous body. Where ever they went they had accepted the leering looks of strangers. The waiter guided Amanda and Claire to a table outside, as they approached the table the young man handed them menus, palm trees and whirling fans overhead, he asked “Would you like drinks”? Claire replied “What kind of beer do you have” The waiter offered, “Balboa” Claire said, Balboa, is fine for me, what do want Amanda”? Amanda questioned, “Do have Marguerites”? The young waiter smiled “Si, with salt and lime”. Amanda eyeing the handsome boy said “That sounds great, make it a double on the rocks” and the waiter turned to walk back into the bar.
Overlooking the harbor, Claire was amazed at the views, Wow! This is so beautiful. Take a look at the huge old Spanish Sailing Ship. “I wonder what it must have been like here when the Spanish used this port for loading gold and silver. Amanda was impatient waiting for her drink to arrive. “I don’t know about you, but I hope that waiter comes back soon, I need a drink.” “So what time do we leave in the morning?”
Claire responded, “Very Early, we need to be at the airport by 7 in the morning. So we should get up about 5. We need to get to bed early so we will rested for the long trip home. Claire lights a cig. Amanda hates smokes and fans the smoke out of face. A few minutes later the waiter return with their drinks, ”Your drinks Ladies” He sets the drinks down at the table, cleans the ash tray. “Would you like to order now, we have excellent seafood, Cerviche, shrimp, fresh lobster. Claire rolls her eyes “I’m really hungry, so for me, fresh seafood Cerviche, Sauteed Shrimp with lots of Garlic, and another cervasa, por favor”.
“Do you have hamburgers, fries and a milk shake”, Amanda asked with a questioning tone, the waiter shakes his head, no! “No, sorry, no hamburgers, how about a beef steak, we have great beef in Panama”. “Ok medium rare please, can I have fries”, Amanda says.
He writes down her order, shaking his head, at the American girl. “Papas fritas for the lady, would you like another Margarita”? “Sure that would be great, could you add more ice, another double please. He walked away with a smile on his face.
They sat in silence watching the boats sail out to the sea beyond. The waiter returned with their food and while placing the food on the table he asked, “Ok, ladies will there be anything else I can get for you.” “I have a question; we are looking for a hotel for the night. Could you suggest one for us, close by” Claire asked. “Sure moms, there is one right on the corner, The Executive Hotel, used by business travelers, very nice clean. Just walk outside about a half a block on the right, right on the harbor, can’t miss it” he instructed. “Ok great, could you bring me one more Balboa, anything for you Amanda?”
“Yes, another margarita for me and then I am done, I’m getting tired.” “Sounds good to me too”, Claire added, “When you bring our drinks, could you also bring our check, will be leaving right after we eat. We have an early flight in the morning.” “Ok , mum, be back in a few minutes”
While the girls finished eating, the conversation between them had been of remembering the trip and the discoveries they had made. After paying the bill, they gathered up all their belongings, packs, bags and wandered out on to the street to find the hotel. They walked the half block to find the Executive Hotel. They had watched the sun set over the harbor, sailing ship and fishing boats had bobbed around on the lavender sea below them, it had been the perfect ending to the day.
They were excited to get home to family and friends, the trip had been an experience of lifetime. Claire never knew at the time, just how much the trip would change the course of her life.
The Executive Hotel was a modest hotel, somewhat run down, used generally by business travelers. A distinctive Caribbean clapboard building with graying white peeling paint, decorated with black louvered shutters and doors, which stood alongside open-aired stalls of shops with brightly woven material hanging in the breeze. A second story of windows and balconies overlooked the street below and the pitched tin roof was tinged orange from rust, it showed years of neglect and the tropical storms that beat the coastline of Panama every year. They checked in and were handed keys to a tiny room on the second floor. A set of windows over looked the harbor on one side with a bed underneath, Claire dropped her packed on the bed , “I will take this bed, next to the windows, is that ok with you Amanda” she said, “Sure, that’s fine with me, I need to re-pack all my stuff”, Amanda replied. The other bed along the wall would be Amanda’s for the night.
They threw their bags on the beds and start opening them up, taking out what they needed to get ready for bed. Claire announced, “I’m going to take a shower, and wipe this grim off. I am really beat and I want to get to bed.” “Me too! I will get my stuff ready, then take one after you.” “Hurry will you, I need to lie down soon, I am about to drop.” It’s been a great trip, I am so glad you asked me to go, I would have never done this without you. God Claire you are so adventurous.” “ I mean we have been to Chile, Peru, Bolivia, Argentina countries I would have never gone too!” Amanda rattled in one long breath.
Ya! I know, it’s been great, I have so many pictures, and this ring I got in Buenos Aries yesterday, is so beautiful, I don’t think I will ever take it off.” “Someday I would like to come back to Buenos Aires and spend more time in Argentina. There is something about South America that I just love; I can’t seem to get enough of it. It almost feels like I have lived here before, it’s all so familiar”.
Claire showed Amanda the ring again, Claire held out her hand and Amanda took her hand in hers to look closely at the ring and the ruby that was set in gold.
Claire gathered up her t shirt and shampoo and went into the bathroom, be back in a few minutes, she said as she closed the door.
Amanda spread everything out on the bed and started to re- pack her back pack, trying to stuff as much as she could into it.
Claire dressed in a t‑shit and her underwear came out of the bathroom, she folded back her bed and got in. Amanda picked up her stuff and headed to the bathroom for her turn in the shower.
Claire fixed the clock and the alarms and took out a picture of her baby, Shane, smiled and kissed the picture. She lay down, fluffed her pillows and stared off into space.
Amanda returned from the bathroom a few minutes later dropping her stuff on the floor and climbed into bed.
“What are thinking about Claire, you seem to be a million miles away”, Amanda asked, Claire rolls on to her side to face Amanda in the bed against the wall. “Just thinking about Shane, my parents, I can hardly wait to get home.” Me too! I’m going to turn out the light, is that ok with you.” “Ya, I’m pooped, lets sleep Claire set the alarm for 5am “ Claire said, See ya in the morning.”
They both feel asleep within minutes. During the night or very early in the morning, something awaken Claire, she heard voices. As she opened her eyes and looked up at the curtains, there were two men. Her first thought was that burglars had gotten into their room, she was very quiet and didn’t move. Then as her eyes adjusted to the darkness she could hear a voice speak to her. She sat up and looked over at Amanda who was sleeping soundly; Claire slapped her face to be sure she was awake. They were saying something to her, not in a voice, but out loud but in her head, she could hear them clearly. There were two men, an older man wearing a white shirt, like ones you see in pirate movies, the collar was open, and his hair was grey. He was slightly balding and his face is round. The other man was much younger with black hair, with a very straight nose he was turned side wise, his long hair in a ponytail with a black ribbon holding his hair back, he was dressed in white shirt like the other man. He appeared to be disturbed about something. The older man was saying something to her, the older man was saying, don’t be frighten, we have come to give you a message, we want you to know that you are safe. We have been trying to find you. You were on your way to Spain, there was an accident, and you drowned. We were unable to save you. It’s the ring you are wearing, you were given that ring a long ago, you found it. That is how we know it’s you, you were supposed to find it. You were going to Spain and had fallen off a sailing ship and drowned. At that moment she could see herself falling into the water in a white dress, wearing a big hat with black ribbons. Claire could see herself in the water hanging on to a piece of wood, her hand was bleeding, she was in a white dress, she let go of the wood and she sees herself sinking to the bottom of the sea, black ribbons streaming down and she drifts, billows of white all around her. She had fallen overboard and could see the billows of white from her dress with black ribbons as she sank to the bottom. They said they would find her. She thought the older man was her father and other man her brother, but she wasn’t sure and then it all faded and the message became fuzzy, like in the MYST game, she couldn’t hear any more. The curtains were black and white plaid, which was all that was left. The next morning they left for the states. She never said a word about the vision, not even to Amanda, it had been disturbing. She thought maybe the beers were to blame. She didn’t know about past lives or what it meant. A sense of adventure had always been with her, even now. She always had a love for the sea and sailing, not even afraid of the water, except when she learned to dive for the first time.
She wouldn’t know for 25 years, when the vision returned into her memory. It had left an impression on her.
To be continued……