Susan Sanelli Hammack
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​Word Magic

Calling all Queens!!

11/24/2018

 
This past summer, I had the honor of speaking at the third annual Brave Girl Symposium in Boise, Idaho. It was an exhilarating experience that I will never forget!! I met so many wonderful new people and reconnected with old friends. My message? You are a Queen!! Check out the video HERE>>>
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A few people requested a transcript of the speech which you can find below.

Calling All Queens
By Susan Sanelli Hammack

We have moved mountains yes?

In fact, I know from speaking with some of you over the past few days
That some of the mountains represented in this room include:
Divorce, trauma, illness and injuries
And those are just some of the mountains in this room

I have moved mountains
I know what it’s like to look back at the end of a year
And realize that I spent more days sick in bed than healthy and functional
I also know what it’s like to sell my car to make rent and stand in line for hours at a food pantry

On a global scale women and girls face sexual harassment and assault #metoo
Are denied educational opportunities and still earn 85 cents to a man’s dollar

Against these seemingly insurmountable odds we find ourselves here
In sisterhood and in celebration of the Mt. Everest of courage, devotion, and love
That it takes to move the mountains on the maps of our lives

Yes, sisters, we have moved mountains
Now what?

I propose that now, we take stock
And not just of the mountains we’ve moved
Because as it turns out
Mountains are just really big piles of dirt and rock
And as we’ve moved the mountains in our lives
We may have discovered that some of those rocks are actually precious stones
Gifts of the mountain like wisdom, empathy, and grit
I’m going to tell you a little about each of them now

Wisdom is the jewel of inner knowing
She’s the one that says to you...that mountain?
You want us to move that mountain?
No. That is not the kind of mountain we move
That is the kind we go around

Or she might say...this mountain can be moved
But it’s going to take you some time
And you’re going to need help
In fact, you’ll need a steady stream of friendship, green juice, and chocolate
To move this mountain, but it can be done

She might even say...this mountain
This is the kind of mountain that can only be moved on your knees
And the dry rocky soil must first be softened by your tears
That’s the kind of mountain this is

Wisdom is the jewel of inner knowing

Empathy on the other hand is the jewel of oneness
My Mayan ancestor have a greeting that I think perfectly illustrates this
When they meet, they clasp hands and one of them will say “In Lak’ech”
Which means “I am another you”
To which the other will respond “Ala K’in” which means “you are another me”
That’s empathy

Empathy sees the “other” as a mirror
So when we see another’s smile it’s our own joy that we feel
And when we sit with another in grief, we connect with our own pain

And because we know what it is to move a mountain
We can offer the weary a cup of understanding
That they can drink in and be strengthened to strive on
Or better yet, thrive on

Empathy is the jewel of oneness

Grit? She’s the jewel of perseverance
She’s going to move that mountain, or she’s going to die trying
She gets door after door slammed in her face
And she STILL doesn’t know the meaning of the word “no”
She scours the sides of life’s mountains in search of
The tiniest rivulets of strength and hope to help you carry on
When you thought you were at your end
She’s the one that reminds you “I can do hard things”
Grit is the jewel of perseverance

Yes beloveds, we have moved mountains
And discovered within them the precious jewels of wisdom, empathy, and grit
And proven ourselves to be matriarchs, warriors, and queens

When I say “you are a matriarch”
I mean you are the alpha mare
The herd looks to you for guidance
Because of you they will decide whether they should rest and relax
Or whether they should flee for safer pastures
For you lead hearts with your countenance

When I say “you are a warrior”
I mean, when life hands you trouble, you are not daunted - not for long
You shield yourself from negativity on the battlefield of life
You are ready and willing to do whatever it takes to protect and provide for those you love
And that includes yourself

When I say “you are a queen”
I mean, you are sacred. Do you believe that?
You are worthy of respect
And capable of choosing your response in every situation
And that is true power

Yes, matriarchs, warriors, and queens we have moved mountains
And discovered within ourselves the precious stones of wisdom, empathy, and grit
Now what?

Now we rise
Because the children need us to nurture and protect them
Whether it be the one in your living room glued to her device
The homeless child on the corner
Or the brown baby detained at the border
For every child is your child

Now we rise
Because the men need us to support them
As they learn to navigate their emotions, share power, and become whole

Now we rise
Because our elders need us to return them to a seat of honor in our society
Collect their precious stories and retell them until aging and dying are no longer sins

Now we rise
Because our sisters of every creed, color, and orientation
Need us to hold hands with them in collaboration and love
Granting them a seat at the table of opportunity
Where they were once rejected, marginalized, and ignored

Now we rise
Because in each of our realms
Be it family, community, or the universe
There is a great crying out
One that we can all see and feel
It is a crying out for wise matriarchs, gritty warriors, and empathetic queens

I’m in Susan
How do I rise?
It’s not for me to say
We all have unique talents, experiences, and desires
And those will guide us to where we can best serve

But when I say “Rise Up!”
I mean show up
Show up in your authenticity
Show up in your weakness
Show up in your imperfection
Show up in your fabulous crown and butterfly wings
Show up

And when I say “Rise Up!”
I mean listen
Listen to the children
Listen to the men
Listen to the elders
Listen to our sisters
And let them show you how you can best support them

And when I say “Rise Up!”
I mean give generously of your time, talents, love
And maybe even money
But only you know what your capacity is
And what you can give cheerfully, and out of love

But my dear, dear sisters...let’s RISE UP!!

This troubled world needs you in your power
And the mountains you’ve moved
And the lessons you’ve learned
Are a royal remedy for this planet

You are a QUEEN sister!
It’s time to bless your realm
In Lak’ech


We can create a new paradigm.

10/7/2018

 
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Sisters: we are triggered and we are raw. Whether #ibelieveher or not, sexual violence and trauma has been blazoned in the media with little sensitivity or empathy, the very reason #whyididn’treport. Statistics show what my experience confirms, most of us have experienced this sort of violation and have been impacted by it in ways that affect our nervous system, our baseline sense of safety and worth, make us more vigilant, and the list goes on...

These are the very issues that brought me to this work as I gained knowledge and tools for my own healing. It was in addressing my own wounds that I found my strengths and my purpose, to emerge from the fire of trauma to support my sisters. To create safe spaces for women where my creativity, silliness, and capacity to sit with pain could be put to meaningful use. This was me Rise(ing) Up.

In the midst of all this ugliness, today was the best day to sit in circle with a beautiful and eclectic group of humans and imagine a better world together. We can resist that which destroys us or we can create that which nurtures us. Best strategy: do both.

Now more than ever I want to raise my voice and shout from the mountaintops…YOU ARE A QUEEN SISTER!!! You are sacred! You are worthy of respect! 

Now more than ever I want to gather the SISTER QUEENS and support them in their own rising. Rising to say no to that which is hurtful. Rising to create a more beautiful world our hearts tell us is possible. 

I want to inspire you and support you and fill your basket with tools so that you can bless your realm with your talents and your love and your vision for tomorrow.

There are three ways that you can join me in this mission right now.

​
ONE: download the free PDF “Tools for Triggering Times” 

which I created for you to help you through the coming weeks. This Royal Remedy is based on my training as a trauma-informed expressive arts facilitator working with trafficking survivors. My hope is that it will be part of your self-care as you navigate any resurfacing of memories, feelings of powerlessness, grief, anxiety, or rage that may be arising in these times.
DOWNLOAD


​TWO: sign up for Rise Up and be a part of the healing conversation.

We will look at our wounds and our struggles and we will make beauty out of them for ourselves and others. It starts in NINE DAYS!! If money is an issue, you can pay as little as $1. If time is an issue, you will have the curriculum forever. There will be meditations, videos, projects, journaling and LOVE!!
REGISTER


​THREE: I want to take this message to more and bigger platforms

to reach more and more women. A beautiful opportunity has presented itself to me in the form of a nomination for a partial scholarship to Sonali Fiske’s Pick Your Platform, Raise Your Voice: a 12 week program to get me onto the Tedx stage!!! I need to raise an additional $500 by Monday evening to participate.

Donate $25 and receive your choice of an art print.
Donate $50 and receive a hand painted jewel stone.
Donate $75 and receive a handmade crown.
Donate $100 and receive all three!!
Donate $200 and I will teach a workshop for you and up to 4 friends!!
​(Locals only).
​

DONATE

Sisters, I can’t say it enough, I am grateful for you. For your love and support. I am here to support your healing and empowerment. It is my mission and greater purpose in life. You are my purpose. 


With butterfly love,
Susan

Post Symposium Glow

9/7/2018

 
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My experience as a speaker/facilitator at Brave Girl Symposium completely exceeded my expectations. I feel like my cells were rearranged and now I've a whole lot to process.

One of my intentions was to be of service to the beautiful souls in attendance. Another was to speak the truths needing to be spoken at this point in history and to hold loving space for these truths to work their transformational magic. The third was to be affirmed that this work is indeed my calling as it was also pushed forward to its next iteration.

I can honestly say that these were beyond fulfilled. Adequate words escape me! 
I am soul grateful to have Risen Up despite my previously crippling fear of public speaking and my inner critic saying this was too much, not for me. I'm in awe of the power of showing up authentically as so many of us women did this week.

I bring home with me every hug, every smile, every new friendship forged and old friendship rekindled. 
I look forward with joyful expectation to what life holds in store for me as I continue to surrender to Creator. 

NOTE: If you'd like to hear or read my speech, please check back as I will be publishing it soon!
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My First Easter Basket

3/31/2018

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Another Spring has sprung, and Easter (Ostara) is just a few days away. It's time again to hide brightly decorated eggs, celebrate the arrival of the Easter Bunny, and gift each other with baskets laden with delights. Oh, and HE IS RISEN! And, the earth...she is ripe for planting!!

It's totally mundane to me now,  but there was a time where things like observing Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny were not part of my lexicon. Being a first generation Costa Rican/Italian American, and the only one of my siblings born in the States, there was a time where the traditions of my ancestors were all I knew. Pretty much it was before I went to school, so until the age of five or so. 

Those years the Baby Jesus brought me my Christmas gifts and Easter was ashes on my forehead, lilies filling the church,  and a rack of lamb. Eventually, and slowly, we assimilated more or less.  It was more like we added American culture than traded one way for another. 

It's easy to almost completely forget now that there was an adjustment period. And it probably doesn't even occur to my American American friends...but there was always that first time. That moment where I realized I was different. My family was different, and I had to negotiate that awareness. We all did. We did it together. It was messy sometimes. Sometimes it was tasty, like when I would get made fun of for my sandwiches - thick slabs of sourdough bread filled with pan fried ham and coppa, topped with melted provolone. I didn't mind. They laughed. I ate. Nobody ever tried to trade me. Fools. 

So this is a short story about one of those times. I must have written it more than ten years ago, before Facebook came along and brought us all together. Enjoy!                                            


                                               My First Easter Basket

One crisp spring morning when I was a mere five years old, I gaily skipped over to a friend’s house to see if she could play. When I arrived, Robin was already sitting on her front porch having a rather animated conversation with Lisa, the girl from next door. "What had happened?” I wondered.

As I joined them and became enfolded in the conversation, I realized that they had both been visited, in the middle of the night, by a giant magical bunny. "WOW!” I responded. I had never heard of such a thing.
    
"Well what does he look like?” I asked.
"I didn't seeee him," said Robin (rather sarcastically, I thought).
I was confused. "Then how did you know he was in your house?"
"All of the eeeeggs were gone!" Robin retorted, as if it should've been obvious to me that missing eggs proves that a magical bunny has been in your house.
"What do eggs have to do with bunnies? Bunnies don't eat EGGS, they eat CARROTS!” I replied, utterly frustrated.

Lisa and Robin exchanged glances as if to silently say that I was pathetically uninformed and in need of their tutelage. They proceeded to explain to me about decorating eggs, the Easter Bunny (as I came to find out that he was called), and baskets full of candies. At this point, I was completely excluded from the conversation as the girls competed over whose basket was filled with the most impressive assortment of confections.

"Easter Bunny?” I thought to myself. "Visits all the little children and gives them candy?  All the children... all ...except me..." Suddenly tears welled up in my eyes as I realized that I wasn't special enough for the mystical hare to pay ME a visit.  The girls didn't even notice my strained words as I said, "I need to go home."  They barely stopped discussing jelly beans and chocolate bunnies to say, "Bye."

I ran home as fast as my Buster Brown Mary Janes could take me, wiping the hot bitter tears of rejection from my face.  As I bounded through the screen door, my mother called out, "Que paso? Did you play with Robin?"

"Yes," I answered as I ran to my room. It was all I could muster without crying. I didn't want my mother to know that I wasn't good enough for the Easter Bunny. I slammed my bedroom door, threw myself on my bed, and raged into the depths of my pillow. My mother must've heard me as I ranted and raved my mantra, "The Easter Bunny doesn't love meeyeeeyee! The Easter Bunny doesn't love meeyeeyee!" Try to remember, I was only five.

 
Later that afternoon, as my relatives began to trickle over for the Easter rack of lamb, my brother approached me with our grandmother’s thick black coat. "Hey Susan, why don't you put this on my bed for Abuelita?"

"Uh,okay," I said, reluctantly. There was something fishy about the way he said it, and I wondered why he didn't just do it himself.
 
I took the heavy moth-ball scented coat anyway, and made my way to his room. He was following me. Strange. When we got to his room, we stopped short of the bed. Suddenly Danny pointed under his bed and theatrically shouted, "OH MY GOSH! LOOK!" He pulled out a beautiful pink basket with a yellow ribbon on the handle, filled with fake plastic grass and jelly beans and chocolate bunnies. It was the most beautiful Easter basket I'd ever seen. I embraced it joyfully.
    
Something told me Danny knew it was there, that my mom had planted it, that it was all a setup, but I didn't care. Maybe I wasn't good enough for the Easter Bunny, but I had a family that loved me, and that's all that mattered. That and jelly beans and chocolate bunnies.
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Live from the Heart as an act of Devotion

1/3/2018

 
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This year I didn't make the list. You know, the Master To Do. The one I planned, in years past to be a slave to. I didn't have an accountability group. I didn't revisit the list monthly or have quarterly check-ins. 

Instead I just had a heart that had been rubbed raw by the kind of challenges that topple all of your mind's careful constructs and burn down your illusions. I began 2017 with whatever I was able to rescue from the burning building at midnight of my life. The things that really mattered to me and the things I really wanted.

And it turned out that they weren't a what, but a who. Who I was living for and my why. And my why was love and a terrible longing for us to thrive. 

And it turns out that I didn't need the list as a productivity and motivational tool because each day I woke up on fire. And the heat propelled me, no, it compelled me and this time I was just making note of what it was asking me to do. 

Each day and each task was more like devotion than obligation and everything else lost it's shiny luster lust-er. I lived more like a gardener and less like a business man. Like one who tends and hopes fiercely while yielding to the unseen processes we cannot control. 

I still had my moments where I felt not enough. Not doing enough, not having enough, not being enough. But it wasn't my master. It didn't drive me. And soon the call of my heart would recalibrate me to its own trajectory. 

And you know the result? The things I wanted so much I dared not even write them down. The things that seemed impossible and I couldn't see how they could possibly come to be. The things I would whisper into the dark night after night as I clutched my hopes to my heart. They came to pass. Each one of them. Not perfectly but profoundly. 

I was encouraged by Staci Jordan Shelton to evaluate this year not by quantifying what I had achieved but by acknowledging the guidance I had received. And this is it for me....live from the deepest place in your heart, live like a prayer where each task is an act of devotion. Dare to cling to your deepest hopes and release the outcome, knowing you can only control your tending and releasing. Tending and releasing. It will happen when it's ready to, if it's meant to. 

This is my only goal for 2018. Live from the heart as an act of devotion. Fin. 

Happy New Year my friends. Prayers for you to see life's blessings and live from a space of gratitude, hope, and love. I love you.
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    Susan Sanelli Hammack

    Mama
    ​ Latina * Italiana
    Maker of Beauty
     Traveler * Ocean * Forest   
    ​Word Magic * ​Hearth Tender
    Sister Keeper * Pain Doula

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