Musicwomen and Saints
|Show link for 4/06/12
7PM CST, 8PM EST, 5PM PST
The following account was sent to me by writer, painter and radio host Judy Joy Jones:
Get women artists off the back of the bus!
Average women haven’t a clue where we are. Women composers, conductors, women painters, sculptors, women scientific inventors are non-existent. And they still kill female babies in India, China and who knows where else. Too many woman artists are in Gagaland and haven’t got a clue.
In Greece, the angry, jealous monk Cyril led an angry mob to hide in bushes and ambush Hypatia, a genius of her time. They flayed the skin from her bones with abalone shells and burned her alive because she was the smartest woman to have graced the Earth. All her books were lost in the Alexandria Library that was burned down. And Cyril was canonized as a saint!
I learned about Hypatia from physicist Carl Sagan. Dr. Michio Kuaku took his place.
We are way asleep, most female composers, sculptors, painters, inventors.
So, I stay alone work my bottom off and have given up health family and friends, and worldly comforts to get us moving. Now, I’m suffering badly, physically, but Mother Teresa my teacher, who was non-denominational, tended to those that society hates most – the poorest of poor.
Now, Joan, to be honest, I was next to what a person was called JESUS CHRIST when near Mother Teresa. Take my word for it! The peasants walked on foot. They had no TV, computers, phones, nothing. They walked on foot, cross any country. She set up homes for poor in and built shanties around her homes for poor.
Read the BIBLE or any holy book. The peasants did this for any saint, no matter their denomination. Peasants smell the real and often the people weren’t even affiliated with a religion, at all.
Then, there was the non-denomination saint in Oakland, CA, named MARY ANN WRIGHT. She was my teacher and I followed for years. I road three buses to get to her to help her feed the poor. Mother Wright had a fifth grade education. She cleaned houses for the rich in San Francisco to pay for her 10-12 kids that lived in garage in Oakland.
One night, the Lord told Mary Ann Wright to go out and cover the poor, hidden under bridges and to feed the hungry. She followed God’s words. From that moment on, Mother Wright slept, sitting up because she could not bare the suffering of the poor who were sleeping in the streets. She took on their suffering. That’s what I call a saint. She had no church affiliation.
I helped her feed the homeless in Old Man’s Park, every week. I went to her warehouse and helped her bag clothes for the poor. She taught me never ever judge anyone. She said, if they come in Corvettes or Rolls Royces to get free bread, give it to them.
DON’T JUDGE THEM. SHE SAID, “NEVER JUDGE. ONLY GOD KNOWS.”
Mother Wright would get a call to go to the garbage dumps in Mexico City, where people are born, live and die on garbage dumps. She would sit and hold them in her arms when they died.
She had 20 foster kids and not one of her own kids or foster kids ever went to jail. She was invited to the White House inauguration, every year. She never slept laying down, after God showed her the real suffering poor.
I met her at Old Man’s Park on a Peace Walk with a group. Mother Wright came up to us and screamed, “while you were going to your meeting, giving your speeches, last night, a 16-year-old crackhead girl overdosed with her three-week-old baby in her arms, in this park and both died!”
Mother Wright begged the group to get out and give. “Don’t go meetings. Go feed the poor give them blankets!”
She was as real as they come. I wrote a song for Mother Wright.
I WRITE SONGS WHEN HOLY SPIRIT COMES UPON ME WHEN ANYONE OPENS MY HEART WITH THEIR LOVE OF THEIR FELLOW MAN.
Here are the lyrics for Mother Mary Ann Wright of Oakland, California, in Old Man’s Park:
She pierced my heart with an arrow
Giving her love to the poorest of the poor
Mother Wright is my hero for heeding the call
Of the hungry sick and those dying alone
Mother Wright is my hero. She pierced my heart
With an arrow for her love of the poorest of the poor
She is dead, now, I think. But she is in me forever and ever. I told her there would be a sculpture made of her and put in Old Man’s Park one day. I want to put that sculpture in the park in Oakland. She was a mixture of races, a mutt like all us.
She told me, “Honey, when ya doing this work, ya have to be careful. People want to give crap to the poor and they will not give crap to the poor while I’m alive. They will give the best. The poor are the best and they deserve the best.”
She had a calling to go to the site of the Oklahoma bombing. She went to the hospital and walked up and down isles, sitting by the beds of families who lost children and loved ones. Mother Wright sat by them held them in her arms and cried with them. She was a tiny woman. She was a saint and not one church ever opened their doors to help her, ever, not one. Even her kids didn’t know they had a saint as a mother. But you never know your own people near you, who they really are.
Joan, she was as much a saint just like Mother Teresa. In the next life, Mary Ann Wright will have any slot on this planet or any planet.
Judy Joy Jones