King of Its Kind

"News from Afar" continues to arrive, as foretold by the fortunteller's card - not only “Happy Birthday” calls from Washington, Massachusetts and California, but also news from further afar - a singing telegram from the universe in the keres language sung by two members of the Zia Pueblo dressed in full regalia. Along with birthday gifts from the universe. It doesn't get much more "afar" than that!

It was a surprise. Several weeks ago, I thought about the “The Milagro Beanfield War” and wanted to see the movie again. So the Universe decided to give me that for my birthday. . . and so much more. A friend in my water aerobics class told me there was going to be a party, put on by the city of Albuquerque, to celebrate the 85^th birthday of the KiMo Theatre downtown. It opened on September 19, 1927, as a magnificent Pueblo Deco style “picture palace.” Not only has it been beautifully restored, it has recently been designated as a state landmark and added to the National Register of Historic Places. Commemorative plaques would be unveiled, and (wait for it. . .) “The Milagro Beanfield War,” written by a New Mexico author and filmed in Truchas, NM, would be shown. Author of the 1974 book, and co-writer of the 1988 screenplay, John Nichols, would be there. Celebratory cake and sparkling cider would be served. All free. 

My first gift was arriving at the downtown parking structure, seeing the sign that read “Have your permit or $6 parking fee ready,” holding out $5 and $1 bills to the attendant, telling her I was attending the KiMo event, then hearing, “Oh, then there’s no charge. It’s free.” Thank you. A block away, on the sidewalk in front of the theater, the event is ready to begin.

Two members of the Zia pueblo were establishing the consciousness for the evening. They wore knee-length, beaded moccasins, porcupine-quill-like chest plates, headdresses, silver tinwork armlets, to one of which was fastened a brown, furry paw, and feathers in their shiny, black, braided hair. I wondered if the paw was previously attached to the narrow, brown fur pelt hanging down from the back of the older man’s head past his knees. He raised a flute to his lips and greeted the four directions with music. Then he welcomed everyone, about 150 people forming a semi-circle around him, on the sidewalk. Acknowledging the importance of the day we are born, he mentions the theatre then asks if anyone there has a September birthday. Two of us do. Called forward, we stand next to him as he sings his father’s birthday song, in his native language, to the theater and the two of us, accompanied by the beat of a drum. Throughout the evening, total strangers continue to wish me “Happy Birthday.”

There are 19 pueblos, or villages, of different indigenous people, in New Mexico. A bystander next to me didn’t know which pueblo the performers came from, so, after the welcoming ceremony, I asked the younger one. “Zia pueblo,” he answered. How perfect. They were not from one of the 18 other pueblos. They were from the “Zia” pueblo, the one whose symbol is the sun.

The Zia Sun Symbol, a red circle with radiating lines on a yellow background, is featured on the New Mexico state flag. Its design reflects their tribal philosophy, the basic harmony of all things in the universe. The four sets of four lines that extend in four directions from the sun represent the four seasons, the four times of day, the four directions and the four stages in the life of a person. My life purpose is “Share the Light.” Just like the sun. In the morning meditation CD I have used for more than fifteen years, Meher Baba, the Indian mystic and avatar who spent 42 years in silence, uses the sun as a simile in describing “selfless service”: 

Selfless service is unaffected by results. It is like the rays of 

the sun that serve the world by shining alike on all creation, on

the grass in the field, on the birds in the air, on the beasts

in the forest, on all mankind; on saint and sinner, rich and 

poor, strong and weak – unconscious of their attitude toward

it.

The universe knows I am a symbolic thinker and delights in giving me a gift filled with symbolism. Much of my life has been dedicated to service. I now live in New Mexico due to a spiritual calling. The quality of the light in the high desert, closer to the sun at an elevation of 5,000 -7,500’, is noticeably different and has long attracted artists and writers.

Once the welcome and plaque unveiling are complete, the architect who supervised the theatre restoration leads a walking tour, pointing out and explaining the renovations. There are 39 cow skulls, with glowing red lights in their eye sockets, lining the proscenium and walls. Murals depicting the Seven Cities of Cibola accompany theatergoers up the stairs. From one of the trailers preceding the movie, I learn that “KiMo” means “King of Its Kind” in the tewa language. It resonates nicely with my last name. 

An author’s table is set up in the lobby for book signing, and the local, independent bookstore, Bookworks, conveniently sells John Nichols’ books, including his newest one, and The Milagro Beanfield War. I buy a copy. Nichols takes time to talk with each person in line and writes a personal message in each book he signs. He wishes me great success in writing A Caregiver’s Journey. He’s quite the raconteur when introducing the film. He shares humorous tales about working with Robert Redford on the screenplay and concludes with a self-deprecating anecdote. At one award presentation, he received a lamb. He says, “As soon as it is placed in my arms, it pisses all over me. I’ll leave you with that. Enjoy the movie.” In addition to the movie, popcorn and soda are free. Later, when given a choice of birthday cake, I select the one with icing on top. “Happy Birthday from afar, Terranda.” Thank you!