Accident on Granby St. Norfolk VA in front of DePaul Hospital

While taking my dog Lucy for a walk, I heard a rash of sirens near
by. When we got to Granby St. my soul led my self to the scene of an
automobile accident that, from the looks of it, had been extremely
exciting had one been there to witness it or experience it.

As Lucy and I approached the scene on foot, a small group was
gathered across the street from the site of six firefighters working
to remove a body from the drivers side of a late model silver Lexus.
The front end of this car was a mangled mass of steel, or is it
aluminum that car engines are made of? My eyes told me that a person
couldn't survive the damage done to that mermaid in the median, the
wounded oak tree 30 feet from her clipped off tail, or the empirical
evidence of the remains of this sedan now 25 feet from either of
those two obstacles that failed in ceasing the rocketing forward
momentum of a vehicle not intended for flight.

The small group gathered on the sidewalk in front of DePaul's
emergnecy room were mostly men, one woman. One man kept saying the
same thing, over and over. "We were coming by here not 15 minutes
ago..." the subtext was his disappointment at not having witnessed
the actual event. I asked if any one cared to join me in prayer.
The only black man in the group was the one who nodded and joined me
at my side. I took off my glove, I took his hand and we started to
pray. And you know who showed up? JESUS did! And his mother too!

I was so surprised to find myself praying with Jesus on Granby St.,
since I've so recently come to the conclusion that he just isn't my
God and try as I might, I haven't been able to make that connection
with a male God. I have come to think of myself more as a Buddhist
rather than a Christian; the spiritual aspects of Buddhism surely
have led me much further into my beloved walk with mysticism than the
Episcopal church ever has.

But...this is what I learned: when you need to pray for someone's
life, when you find yourself taking the dark and beautiful hand of a
perfect stranger who, out of half a dozen is the one willing to
conjure up some God with you, praying that if it be His will, and
that means saving a life, than by all means, please Jesus, intervene
and do that...Christ is the guy for the job.

So, thank you Jesus. Thanks for being present and such a huge source
of healing and love for so many wounded and broken and frightened
people. Thanks to Mary for being there with her nurturing maternal
essence. Thanks to those amazing firefighters, whose work is so
clearly laid out for them when they show up to rescue. Those men and
women never cease to amaze me when I see them do what they do. I
just know that that's how God shows up at the scene: with the
firefighters... through them, with them, in them. Thanks be to God,
which ever one works for you. Thanks be to the God that shows up!

Connie Hanna

Dear Sweet, Paige:

Having learned how to love you, my soul eternally remembers the joy.

Namaste` little sister
Connie

Weekly Words of Wisdom

From Sri Swami Satchidananda~

 

You are Happiness Personified You never get happiness by doing something or achieving something, including spiritual practices, prayer or the search for God. Even God cannot give you happiness. If God gives, God might take away. Anything that comes, goes. Even in the name of searching for God, we see people becoming unhappy. Here is my answer: Happiness is not to be sought outside. It can never come from outside or from inside. It can't come, because it simply is. It is always. Where? Everywhere. It is just happiness. You are Happiness personified. You are that Supreme Bliss. You are that joy. You are the image of happiness. If you want, use the word God. Who is God? What are God's qualifications? Always being happy. So, as the image of God, how can you be unhappy?
God bless you. Om Shanthi, Shanthi, Shanthi.

Mad as Hell. Not gonna take it anymore. Profanity warning: there is some

There has been a convicted child molester in my life for about a year.  I don't recall asking for this specific gift, but alas, it was bestowed.  I've written others letters to this individual on this blog, so if you're curious, the information is probably available. 

 

But here's the thing:  I first  thought the lesson was forgiveness.  I forgave.  I did not judge.  I wrote letters to jail. 

We went for sushi not long after his release and I played the angel who asks, "if you had your choice, what would the karmic payback for what you did be?"  It was not a rhetorical question, AND I did not expect a forthright answer.    I asked him to tell me when he had an answer.     NOT GONNA HAPPEN!

I have not felt  empowered, as a survivor of childhood sex abuse,  by the experience of forgiving.  In fact, I'm mad as hell.  

He showed up unannounced at my studio and  after fifteen minutes of listening to his arrogant whining, this is what I said: 

"I am not here for you to dump your shit one".  

"I'm not dumping shit..."

"Yes, you are, that is how I'm experiencing this.  And it's the same old shit that you've been dishing out for all your 33 years.  I am not here for that.  I am here as a spiritual director, not to listen to whine and make excuses for your deplorable behavior.   Get over yourself.    And by the way, your karma payback for getting so drunk you molested your live-in girlfriends  12 year old daughter is 12 years of CELIBACY . You don't deserve anything for what you did to that little girl.  12 years Brandon, now get the fuck out of here".

"I'm sorry, Connie!" 

Brandon, tell it to the child whose healthy sexuality you robbed her of. 

You are a thief.  You cannot be trusted. 

Could I find the Divine in you, I'd honor it. 

I was talking with Renee, Steve and Cathy, three highly spiritually connected people on Sat. night and I heard myself gushing about the richness of my spiritual path after 19 years.

The path is so beautiful! There are choices everyday to be made but they all lead to the top of the mountain, where, I'm told, it's quite easy to be enlightened!

Divine Service (great name for a diner) is the daily work, but every once in awhile, I curl up in the arms of God when I think I can handle it.

Sparkles to you all!

Addiction

My web friend Paige says that creativity is an addiction. I cannot think of a more positive and astute definition of what drives me to create. Thank you Paige. You are a gem.

Robbie Schneider

In 1983, I had recently moved from my hometown of Santa Cruz to San Francisco, to live with my best friend Marge who was leaving her husband of five years, Patrick Fitzgerald. I was 23 and I think she was 22. Our birthdays are a year and a day apart. She was dating Rocky at the time....Marge was my first girl crush and she is one of the women I have loved most intensely in this life. Marge was a first in many ways for me, but she truly taught me what it is to be a member of a tribe.

Marge's mother was Athabaskan and their summer ritual was to go up the river and catch salmon. Salmon camp; hard work, that went on for weeks and weeks in those days of so very much light. Her aunties and grandmothers stitched and beaded the most beautiful slippers you've ever seen. Such an exquisite gift.

I coveted those slippers. I have a picture of my feet in them somewhere in the attic. the picture, not the feet, are in the attic.

Jeez, so I'm taking a long way around to tell you that when Marge and I lived together in a McAllister Ave. brownstone basement apartment, just west of Haight Ashbury ,she met Robbie Schneider from San Mateo one night at a comedy club....and she brought him home and we hung out on your living room floor. He was such a boy! And Robbie, if you ever happen to read this, I want you to know that your CERTAINTY of your destiny has always stayed with me. You JUST KNEW that your star was brilliant and bright. I hope that it still is my friend, I hope your destiny has been kind to you. You were funny then and you're funny now and I thank you for that!

Connie