As 2016 christened us, with swaying palm fronds and a thronging life beat on the streets of vibrant Miami encircling, my breath caught with a faint sense of ‘something’ taking place internally that I could not quite find a word for or even frankly taste a grasp of reality for. Something was afoot, yet I couldn’t tell quite what? I allowed myself the grace to just trust and see. It was a mysterious calling.
I wandered the teeming, trendy streets of New Year’s Eve midnight, soaking in the Latin style, twinkling lights, skyscrapers aglow in candy color hues of festivity. Opulence, beauty, youth, vitality, adventure, history and a tinge of fate kept me alert.
By midnight I had slyly slipped into the sumptuous decore of the area’s HOTTEST new night club in town, and a magnificent old style Havana floorshow with feathered Cubano performers: feathers and sequins, gold lame, fiesta colors and a beat like none other. El Tropicana of 1940’s Havana flared before me; velvet banquets, raven haired waiters, indelible music, diamonds glittering galore. Mesmerizing and also speaking a story to me of legendary proportions, chills tingled my spine. My late mother spent half of her weeks in Havana and at El Tropicana for years as a glamorous and history making stewardess for National Airlines in this very vintage. WOW!
I knew no one and yet was not alone. The city held me in a warm embrace. My reason to be here at all, is my golf champion 18 year of old son, gunning for a collegiate team and training at a famed golf academy a few miles away for the Hurricane League season, and me needing a much overdue ‘timeout’ after 4 steady heart stopping years on the road preaching to thousands on the Lyme disease atrocity and teaching recovery tools to a country sorely lacking in the necessitated tools of Integrative Medicine for chronic illness and lifestyle wellness. Two books released in one year, foreign translations, audio format, a 2 year stint hosting the world acclaimed weekly “Lyme Light Radio Show” and I am weary. Miami is my deemed oasis of sunshine and surrender. It is lovely.
For 25 years I have lived in beautiful, yet strident New Hampshire, with its humble hill towns and fierce winterscape of deep, billowing snows and bitter arctic winds. Though I have loved raising a family and nurturing my treasured homeopathic and Lyme disease specialty practice amid woodlands and homespun honesty, I feel the treads on my New England tires of habitation there wearing thin. But, what next? A new residence, a new career, a new husband, a new look? None of these quite sit square in my gut. This fact is a rarity in itself, as I am one whom dials into intuition with a clairvoyant power and tandemly attunes to ambition with the razor zeal of a competitive athlete.
Instead, I recognized I just plain ‘ole needed to get out of town and recalibrate.
This is where the kismet begins!
Many of my friends know I have some oddball chemistry going on with the numbers 11:11. I randomly glance at the clock, approximately every other day, even waking out of a dead sleep, and suddenly spy 11:11 ! What? over 1000 sightings at this point. Jokingly, I make note of it on Facebook. Others have guided me to messages; heralding this is a channel to the higher dimension, or make a wish, or your angels are with you. I loved number synchronicity as a kid and don’t need a watch to tell time. An ‘idiot savant’ with phone numbers before cells ruined my visual and kinesthetic learning processes, I suspected 11:11 was at play in some fatalistic way.
HERE WE GO!
My son and I started scouting a Miami rental near my elderly aunt, in September 2015. We needed a select section of town and it was a tall order, as young international professionals and long term leases presided there. But, my cousin put me in touch with a savvy realtor, who kindly said;
“Katina, this is close to impossible to find you a furnished 2 BR in that area- everything is locked up for a year at a clip. I will look though.”
“Gracias, Hermann, I know you can do it!” came my ever optimistic, intention driven reply.
The months sidled by. Nada.
The week before Thanksgiving– an email arrives in BOLD TYPE.
“I FOUND IT- ON BRICKELL!!”. Music to my ears, Hermann pulled the white rabbit out of a magic hat. We negotiate on the phone and sure enough, every item on the wish list is there and I sign on the dotted line.
My son and I pack me up from my third residence in less than one year’s time, load the car onto the Drive-Away trailer service in Canton, MA- me driving one armed in a sling, after a nasty Thanksgiving fall on black ice resulting in a badly sprained arm and cracked rib, while we shuffle our welsh corgi to a friend, golf gear and more to be prepped and somehow I tie up all the loose threads, as a one-armed bandit, and pop on a flight in pain but destined for the lure of the ‘calling’.
We move into get this : 1111 SW 11th Street and 1st Ave., Miami, Fla on December 29, 2015. MY NUMBERS glaring at me on the tall sleek condo entry! This is too uncanny.
Then, in the very first hours of 1/1/16 (more 1s) I stumble randomly into El Tucan and my late mother’s former lifestyle of old Havana! She was raised half a mile from my new residence here, in the 1930s and ’40s, in Coral Gables. For 5 years I have wanted to write her memoir, as she helped co-found the Stewardess Union and her epic life of knowing Sinatra, Hemingway, Ava Gardner, Howard Hughes, Paul Newman, Omar Shariff all on a first name friendly ‘lets have a drink’ basis is too rich to ignore. But, how to start such a project? Monumental at times.
Today, I am writing my first blog of 2016. I had let all my writing lapse in later 2015, when I went out on Tour with my latest book “Autoimmune Illness & Lyme Disease Recovery Guide, Mending The Body, Mind & Spirit”, and I have missed my beloved Tuesday night Gateless Gate Writers Group genius. So, a made a personal pledge to start writing again this January. This is my first effort. Blogging feels a homey, personal way to start. And, the underlying feeling is twofold.
- Writing is healthy for me and helps my creative mind expand and thrive.
- The 11:11 tapping for 2 full years has showed its face to me!! I am supposed to be living here, in my late mother’s old neighborhood, next door to an umbilical cord to her life in 1940’s pre-Castro Cuba in order to bring her to life for us all. My next body of work is showing its face.
I lounge by the pool, swim my formerly robust laps in baby steps as the ‘gimpy’ arm injury stymies me, and I am meeting fascinating people and opportunity- Argentinian Tango, Cuban menus, Columbian neighbors, Brazilian beauties, a film offer, a new radio show. Recalibrating, spinning on an Axis, I reorient to what the doors of my future will open to? I know I need to streamline the multi-facets of my career efforts and capitalize on my talents most optimally, but just in what ways, I am not 100% certain.
Time is on my side. I am reading Keith Richard’s bio and spending time with my extended family. The handsome Latin men lay their charm on me daily with such sweet compliments– a far cry from emotionally contained New England. And, my son is gobbling up the green golf courses.
Meanwhile, I feel something very deep, very rich and very potent tugging even more powerfully on me than Mother’s memoir— it is the 16 personal messages I received this very day on FB alone , (and hundreds in the year) thanking me for my contribution to helping amend the Lyme disease crisis and giving individual’s a handhold of support and hope in their very fractured lives. This is my honor and gift as a healer to help usher in change and renewal and hold the safe haven of space for those brave soul’s willing to die to their OLD lives and OLD patterns and OLD beliefs through the journey of personal transformation via the often frightening vein of illness.
Enlightenment is not gained overnight or at a two week retreat or a month in an ashram (all lovely experiences), but it comes through a death spiral of fear and grief and the most courageous fortitude and trial of endurance you could ever fathom. Enlightenment is more grueling than childbirth or an Ironman tri-athalon, or surviving a house fire. The rebirth after our spiritual death is filled with a dewy tender breath of beauty and gifts of unsuspect possibility. Enlightenment brings serenity and deep wisdoms and a calm internal pool of simplicity. Enlightenment is eternal. Once there, one never turns back to the old life.
I am a conduit. I feel the channel I am in. When teaching to groups, my messages flow like a surging fountain. I stay open. My journey to death’s door made me surrender to what I grasped to and felt was my identity and power and props. I know so much more now. And, still I learn every single day.
2016 began wandering amid bustling Miami’s tropical daze and already I attune to the process of accepting that I am unfolding once again. Letting go, receiving and growing with the seasons, the rythmns, the magic of life and the precious process of being a vessel of love and light, whether in times of darkness of moments of maximum joy.
May all of us be protected and guided and work from our highest good.
My numbers have spoken and I embrace the future. What is calling to you?
Katina I. Makris, CCH, CIH