ANECDOTE/A COURSE IN MIRACLES
Dancing with My Brother
How love can transform violence
I stood behind the checkout counter, the wall of New Age cassettes a foot behind me. It was a quiet Sunday afternoon here at the Bodhi Tree Bookstore in Hollywood, California. I worked alone at the moment, a line of six people waiting.
“Help, help. My boyfriend is being killed!” yelled this woman as she burst through the front door.
My mind went, Huh? Slow on the uptake.
Then I felt an invisible kick to my rear and a pull from my front, and I was being propelled through the line that quietly opened for me, across the front area, down the steps, and there I was in front of this very large young man. Emphasis on large.
The boyfriend was on the ground with a bloody nose.
And then I started chanting the Mahamantra.
“Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna, Krishna, Hare Hare. Hare Ram, Hare Rama, Ram, Ram, Hare Hare.”
Okay, I need to let you know that I was not a Hare Krishna. I ate at their restaurants and visited various temples now and then. I did chant the Mahamantra, but only privately. The last thing I ever wanted to do was dance in a…
