A Magical Connection

When you think of Magic, what comes to mind?  For me, David Copperfield, magician not the novel, is the first thought that comes to my mind.  When I was eleven, my parents took me to see David Copperfield.  It must have cost them a small fortune, but they took all three kids even though they were living paycheck to paycheck.  It was one of the highlights of my childhood.  Yet, I’m not talking about that type of magic.  I’m talking about the magic of creativity, the magic of the universe, the magic of miracles that happen right in front of us, but we’re too busy to see and most of all, I’m talking about the magic of connection. 

As some of you know, I’m researching the 16^th century hoping to find a unique story that will become a historical fiction one day.  When I began this journey almost a year ago, I prayed to the universe to assist me.  So far, the universe has led me down the most interesting and magical paths that are proving to be very fruitful.  Especially, the mystery of connection between a stranger and myself outside of London, England on a rainy day, three months ago.  Ms. Brenda, a complete stranger, eighty-six years old, literally opened the door to my research.  It was my second day in London; I took the train about an hour to St. George’s Church in Gravesend. 

I wanted to visit the gravesite of Pocahontas.  She is going to be one of the main characters in my novel. I arrived in Gravesend around noon, not knowing what direction to even walk.  I had a young lady assist me with finding the location of the church.  I’ll never forget walking through an outdoor market where crowds of people were shopping, when I first saw the steeple of St. George’s Church. 

As I turned the corner, an historic sign talked about Queen Elizabeth and a young Indian girl known as Pocahontas.  It was amazing to walk down the path and come upon the statue that resembled the same statue I’ve seen so many times on the grounds of James Fort, officially known as Jamestowne, Virginia.  I walked toward the statue, it was her, it was Pocahontas.

Due to a fire in 1727, it’s unknown where Pocahontas was buried on the grounds of St. George.  I walked around the church hoping to find a door that was unlocked.  Having no luck, I noticed a small stone under one of the windows, so I resorted to peaking in one of the windows for a better view.  I could see it, another exhibit inside the church lobby.  I was so excited.  I leaned in closer in an effort to read the display.  Yet, my reading was interrupted by an elderly voice.

“May I help you?"  I turned to see this sweet older lady that reminded me so much of my Great-Aunt Ruthie that had passed away many years ago. 

“Oh, hi.” I said, with a voice of a teenager caught doing something wrong.

“Can I help you?”  The sweet older lady asked again.

“Well, I’m from America.”  I said, stumbling off the stone that had lifted me up for a better view into the church.

“I can tell.”  She stated with a small smirk with her English accent.

“I’m doing some research on the 16^th century. I’m trying to get all the information on Pocahontas and the details around her death.  I know she was buried on the grounds of St. George’s Church.”  I was trying to sound like an adult and that I knew what I was talking about.

“Would you like to see the display inside the church?”

“Oh, yes, but I’ve tried, the doors are locked.”

She smiles, reaches into her pocket, “Lucky for you, I have a key.”

I’m not sure how Ms. Brenda happened upon that church at the exact time I needed her.  It’s a mystery.  It’s a magical mystery.  The connection between two strangers at a rare point in time, have ended up becoming pen pals.  Ms. Brenda continues to assist my research by sending articles and anything she feels might support my efforts. It is a magical friendship.  

It’s unconditional kindness that has come to mean so much throughout my research for this silly little novel. I guess it is true what they say, “It really is about the journey, not the destination.”

Ms. Brenda, I hope this research turns into something that makes you proud.

This leads me to another magical connection between my mentor and me.  She, too, is a stranger.  She doesn’t even know that in a huge way, she encouraged me to start writing again and to BEGIN the first steps toward creativity.  I’m talking about Elizabeth Gilbert.  She has inspired me to get into the creative arena and kick little ass. 

On September 22^nd, Liz Gilbert’s new book, BIG MAGIC, is available for purchase.  It addresses creative living beyond fear.  I’m really excited about this book.  In addition, I think Liz Gilbert is fucking amazing.  Yes, I’ll keep you posted; I do plan to hang with this lady one day and sing karaoke, perhaps in Italy.  

Here are a few links to check out my mentor, Liz Gilbert’s, works and words:

http://www.elizabethgilbert.com

https://www.facebook.com/GilbertLiz?fref=ts

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mc838mBhPO4

https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/magic-lessons/id1018969048?mt=2

So, it is all about a magical connection.  It’s about kindness toward a stranger. It’s the magical path of positive energy.  This journey, so far, has been full of magical experiences that will forever be imprinted on my soul.

As you journey throughout your day, open your eyes to the magical human experience that is waiting for all of us to discover. 

Does History matter?

Each morning as Haven, my three-year-old German Shepherd, and I take our daily walk, I rarely notice the significant value of an almost hundred-year-old neighborhood located in historic downtown Wilmington, NC.  There are plaques explaining the historic importance on some of the houses I pass by, but being surrounded by these historic monuments, I’ve become blind to them.  Why is that?

I’ve been fortunate to travel to Italy, Spain and England in the past twelve month.  The one thing that really stood out was the innate appreciation for art.  The art of history, the art of living life and especially the art of connection with heritage.   I was amazed to visit places that were preserved for centuries, because the culture appreciated where they came from even if it was harsh and violent. 

Is it that America is to young to appreciate the art of history, the art of living and especially the art of knowing our heritage?  Are we just to young to realize the struggles and sacrifices it took to establish this country?

My hometown also struggles with preserving history vs. capitalism.  We recently demolished a 1920’s baby hospital to install four story townhouses near Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina.  I’m not sure if this is right or wrong.  Yet, history was once again trumped by the new and better money making adventure.  I believe each community in America struggles with a balance of restoring vs. rebuilding. 

This week in America was a historic moment.  It got little press on the nightly news, it was a small wave of interest on social media and no one paused long enough to recognize the extraordinary impact that had occurred.  To embrace authenticity, I’m not sure I would have paused if it weren’t for eight months of research about the individuals discovered.

Why is it that we Americans have little interest in how our country was founded?  The sacrifice that it took, the lives that were lost and the uncertainty of building a new and better world full of the unknown.  I think the four individual identified this week were a few of the visionaries that make American what it is today.  These individuals were Rev. Robert Hunt, Capt. Gabriel Archer, Sir Ferdinado Wainman and Capt. William West.  Do you recognize the names?  Don’t feel bad, not many people would know these quiet souls that crated the first permanent settlement over 400 years ago known as Jamestown.

Here is a link to read about the men and the exciting discovery of our 400-year history.  I hope you take the time to learn about it.

http://wydaily.com/2015/07/28/local-news-jamestown-archaeologists-find-graves-of-four-english-founders-of-america/

The individuals that give their lives to preserving history, I salute you.

Dr. James Horn, Dr. William Kelso, Dr. Douglas Owsley and the Jamestown Recovery Crew. 

So, Does History Matter?  Absolutely! 

We must continue to preserve our history so that one day, centuries from this moment, we too can show the world that we were discovered by men and women that risked everything for a new beginning.

So, how do we support our history, our heritage?  I’m going to donate a few dollars to the Jamestown Recovery Crew to keep discovering.  Here is a link is you would like to donate, too:

http://historicjamestowne.org/support/

Together we can preserve American history.

Giving Yourself Permission

Why is it that we feel we need permission to follow our heart’s desire?  It’s a question that seems to always derail me throughout my life.  I just turned 44 a couple of weeks ago and I still struggle with giving myself permission. Do you?

I don’t know about you, but I grew up in a fairly strict household.  As I child, I needed permission to fart if you want the honest truth.  It was all about permission.  If I close my eyes, I can recall the long walk down the upstairs hallway to my parent’s bedroom, the churning of my stomach wanting badly the answer to my question to fall in my favor.  It was a high school party with no parents. I don’t have to tell you the answer to the above request.  It was always, “No”, or “Are the parents going to be at home?”

As you know, I’ve been researching the 16^th century for a novel.  I’ve been struggling lately to just get into a groove.  When you live at the beach, work a demanding full-time job that pays the bills, the last thing I want to do is struggle at the one thing I want to do.  Yet, I do.  So many individuals have come up to me or emailed me with encouraging words, but some say,  “I wish I had your life.”  What is not apparent is the struggle that comes with the disciple of honoring one’s craft.  Everyone gets fascinated with the possible outcome, impressed with the disciple and often frustrated with the lack of engagement as the characters in my novel take over a large portion of my life.

I realized today, that my parent’s permission has not been needed in a long time.  It is I that hold the permission back from my own self these days.   Why is that?  As a woman, I have choices that my grandmother did not have and especially my great-grandmother.  I have choices at my figure tips.  Yet, so many times I’ve chosen the short gratification path rather then invest in honing my greatest love; producing a story and giving birth to it.

Why do we need to give ourselves permission? Permission is important because it gives us the freedom to pursue our quest, our heart’s desire, what we alone can only accomplish.

So, I give myself permission knowing it comes with FEAR, STRUGGLE, SELF-DOUBT, FAILURE, CRITICISM AND MOST LIKELY SOME OTHER HORRIBLE THINGS THAT I CAN’T IMAGE AT THIS POINT IN TIME.    Yet, even knowing that this quest comes with all of these possible pit falls, the story still must be born.

I was just thinking that maybe those reading this blog might need permission, too.  So, I give it to you.  What is your quest?  But, mostly importantly, what are you waiting for?  All it takes is one courageous step to begin.  I hope you take.. and if you need a little nudge, I’m here for you, because I know for a fact, they’ll be some days I’ll need a definite push!

I leave you with this quote today.  My good friend Brene Brown via Erin Tetterton introduced it to me many years ago:

“It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by the dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions and spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who, at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly; so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.”

by Theodore Roosevelt

Whether you use today to engage in your quest or not… whatever you do, do it DARING GREATLY!

Putting light on “A New World” for the world to see..

So, here it goes.  These is one guarantee this blog will have throughout its lifespan… Mistakes.  I can’t spell, I don’t know grammar, but there is one thing I’m called to do and that is to tell a story.

Several friends encouraged me to start a blog about the research that I’m doing concerning the 16^th century.  Yep, the 16^th century.  My leading lady, introducing her to most of the world, is Virginia Dare.  That’s right, I’m researching the 16^th century in hopes that historical facts will play a huge role within a fictional story that I’m creating.

So, how did this all begin.  I’ve been in the television and film industry all my life in some form or another.  I’ve written several screenplays throughout the years.  It just happens that one of the screenplays that I never finished was about Virginia Dare.   I was visiting my cousins in Raleigh, North Carolina, and I just happened to be reading the synopsis that I had written several years ago concerning the life of Virginia Dare.  My cousin, Tony, started talking out loud about the connection that Virginia Dare could possibly have had throughout the 16^th century if she survived.  For those of you that don’t know, Virginia Dare is the first English born American.  She was a part of what now is known as “The Lost Colony”. 

The Lost Colony was the first attempt England made to settle in American in 1587.  Their governor, John White, and Virginia Dare’s grandfather left the colonists to head back to England for much needed supplies.  Due to the Spanish Armada, It took John White three years to sail back to Roanoke Island.  When he arrived, there was no sign of any of the colonist. There are stories that the colonist died by sickness or killed by the natives, but there is a much more interesting story if you dig deeper.  It’s the story of the colonists migrating into a native tribe called the Croatoan. 

I’ve decided to dig deeper in hopes that I can discover supporting historical facts that will be integrated in my fictional story.  If Virginia Dare survived she could have played a vital role within the building of the New World.

So, that is where I’m at so far.  I guess I should call myself a researcher, but actually I’m just a writer digging for the story.  I hope you join me as I blog about my experiences and adventures in creating the story that will become Breath of Hope.