photo by Kim Stafford

 

 

Open Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue

 

 

  November 15, 2021

 

In childhood, you could look miles across a cookie, and never see the other side.

 

—William Stafford

*

 

(This poem by Alex Tretbar is part of a much longer poem called “Cat’s Game.”) (JS)

 

INDRA’S NET

 

Even gods & holy

men have their toys

& tools of trade:

 

Hermes the caduceus

& Jehova His burning bush

& Odin his ravens

& the Buddha a stone himself.

 

And there is elephant-throned Indra

with his jewel-bedecked net.

 

What does he catch with it?

 

Nothing (everything), actually.

The net lies draped in the air

around his castle, and all matter

reflects & refracts

through the facet clusters stationed

at every X of the mesh—infinite gems,

 

all of which link to the others.

Peer into one & peer into all:

see  your face

as though through a fly’s 

composite eyes, see your face

superimposed over

every human face to grow

& fade, all faces of clock & moon,

surface of all waters

both quiet & vengeful

the original

 

     drop

 

of cytoplasm

from every star’s vantage—

all of the brittle cosmos

caught up in a fractal

self-repeating, coiling

without pause within

your eye.

 

No one is to blame.

 

—Alex Tretbar

*

 

(Katie Radditz sent this story from Loren Eiseley, author of The Immense Journey.) (JS)

 

While wandering a deserted beach at dawn, stagnant in my work, I saw a man in the distance bending and throwing as he walked the endless stretch toward me. As he came near, I could see that he was throwing starfish, abandoned on the sand by the tide, back into the sea. When he was close enough I asked him why he was working so hard at this strange task. He said that the sun would dry the starfish and they would die. I said to him that I thought he was foolish. There were thousands of starfish on miles and miles of beach. One man alone could never make a difference. He smiled as he picked up the next starfish. Hurling it far into the sea he said, “It makes a difference for this one.” I abandoned my writing and spent the morning throwing starfish. — Loren Eiseley

 

(Katie adds:)

 

It’s a fabulous reminder when we feel guilty that we are not doing more to help.  What’s important is to do what we love—for those who come along our path. This is a tale for living a magical life, just appreciating that we and all these amazing beings are alive.  

 

—Katie Radditz

*

 

(Here are some excerpts from Michel’s meditation journal. The numbers refer to sections from Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh.) (JS)

 

October 10, 2021  #177  THE INDIVISIBLE BODY OF REALITY

 

….I have learned sometime back—how far, I don’t recall—that everything is part of the whole. Some may say, “I see a unified reality,” as in, “We’re all in this together.” And I agree. For me, this goes deeper. Since I adopted a view of the original cause of all things as GOD—(drawing deeply from Jewish sources, along with an Evangelical Protestant Christian upbringing)—I perceive this omnipresent Being (God is everywhere at all times—beyond time, even) of infinite power created, first, a space in infinite reality for this reality to exist. Many traditions have looked for explanation of whys and wherefores. I’ve learned to accept some of what I can’t know—hoping benevolence over malevolence.

 

By retracting some of the infinitude of GOD, GOD made space for me—or even for “me,” with all the so-called negatives (“bad”) and positives (“good”) I may bring forth in this world. I see this world as a creation to allow the Infinite-All-That-Is (unity) to experience relationship, which requires “other.” I base this on: If GOD is ALL, then there is no…thing else. Any other would be subsumed into GOD’s ALL—as a candle’s light is subsumed by the sun, yet even more so. What this contraction of All-That-Is idea does for me is to create a space for “me” to exist, along with my present “reality,” and I am able to experience relationships to other people, to other beings (sentient or not), and to All-That-Is. Under all this is an interconnection between all things. We may not see it, or even want to do so—that’s okay. This connection informs, for me, that were GOD to reveal the infinite to man, we would cease to exist as individuals, and interdependence would meld back into the Ultimate Unity, as all “things” once again became The One, Source-of-All.

 

Interconnectedness is probably easier to contemplate than my personal glimpse of reality. Sadly, the view doesn’t always hold to the forefront of my mind, and so I “fall” victim to interpreted reality (based on Ego), losing sight of just how deeply interconnected we all are in this “now” moment, and I see myself as independent and alone.

 

This “alone”-ness is just a fabrication of mind attempting to assert a control over reality, claiming independence from “others,” and forgetting the value of a reality where “We’re all in this present moment together.” The Buddha taught “the three poisons” as his way of explaining in simple human terms what he came to see as the Ultimate Reality (he named “Nirvana”-paradise). However we learn to label and accept reality as it is—(exploring Ultimate Reality at times)—we can eventually learn to see a connection to all other “beings” and “things” within this reality. It isn’t easy to explain and/or wrap a mind around. Forgive me my simple fallibility, as I am also part of you, as much you are a precious part of my being too.

 

 

October 14, 2021  #181 A BABY CRIES

 

I wonder, how many of us are scared of babies in some fashion—their neediness we can’t meet, their fragility we may fracture, their delicate frame, or emotional state, and more? Learning to see and embrace our emotional state of anger (or any emotional state) as our suffering baby within, holding and comforting him or her: this seems foreign to me, yet it also makes some sense in the world of mindfulness. When we engage our playful side, and imagine emotional states, such as anger, as fragile, delicate babies in much need of gentleness and loving care—then, maybe, we can also imagine ourselves giving loving tender care as we hope we might, instead of what we fear we might do as an alternative. Maybe I’m the only one (not likely) to have trepidation when it comes to babies in general, and, specifically, to holding or comforting one. It has been many years since I’ve been around a baby. It can’t be too “hard” to do. I can imagine, pretend doing what I want, even now, when I feel distressed and upset. And in doing so I’m imagining what I can do for that core expression of my emotional state. That would be mindfulness.

 

 

October 26, 2021  #188  IDEAS OF HAPPINESS

 

This one is so very true. I have seen this in my own life, as well as numerous others. There is an oblivion we develop around ideas of happiness: If only…when I get/do/become…etc….then I’ll be happy. Yet, how often do we find ourselves in the “ideal” and still not happy! Have you ever noticed this in your own life, or that of others? (Sometimes I can see my own challenges more clearly when they are part of someone else’s life challenges.)

 

So, what does it really take for us to be truly happy? How do we get there? Or is it, like many lessons I’ve learned, already present fully developed and waiting to be “let out”? What do you think? Is this plausible? What’s your experience of this?

 

At one point I had to learn (again?) what happiness was—an absence of sadness. Thankfully, I had a great friend to help me talk my way out of the morass I had put myself into. (A story for another day.) It was the oddest idea at the time: If I wasn’t “sad,” then I must be feeling happy! There’s lots of books and ideas about finding your happiness. Thây offers the simplest and easiest path to realize the happiness present already.

 

 

October 28, 2021  #189  THE APPLE TREE

 

The first part of this reminds me of the Gravenstein apple tree in my grandparents’ back yard. The apples were great for applesauce. I loved them best when they were underripe—tart and yet sweet, with a crisp crunch. They never became mealy, like red or yellow Delicious. They were also good for pies! But I digress. Thây’s point was about paying attention—being mindful of living beings: (entities, not all of which are sentient). It’s not hard to do, just pay attention and act on what you observe in the moment; no grand schemes or plans required. Just be in the now….

 

I haven’t seen a tree in over 14 years. Not up close or on any sort of regular basis. But I am surrounded by plenty of beings in need (?) of my attentive presence in the now. I can give that to them, and myself too, by remembering to breathe and not attach to what happens—what I hear, or what others do. I can set an intention to be, to be present, to be attentive (as needed), to respond (as needed), and to offer compassion for that being. Maybe that’s your Apple Tree too?! Watch ‘em grow.

 

—Michel Deforge

*

 

Each leaf of grass, each single spear, whether it be green blade or brown blade, is the resting place of each night’s dreams that turn into mist and dew.

 

Some of the dreams grow into the ground to grow once again more loves to hold more dreams, while some evaporate into sky and return to the lakes, rivers and seas, and become dreams once again.

 

On a full-moon night, when all is covered in mist and dew, upon the grass a million drops will rest like shivering diamonds twinkling in the moonlight. The grass in a small patch could hold the dreams of the whole world for us to behold.

 

—Rocky Hutchinson

*

 

Reflections in the Heart (#332)

 

“Everything—the trees, the wind, the birds, the mountains, everything inside us and around us—wants to reflect itself in us. We don’t have to go anywhere to obtain the truth. We only need to be still, and things will reveal themselves in the still water of our heart.” (from Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh)

 

Thank goodness! Is this telling me that I don’t have to apologize for, or explain, or defend my lack of desire to travel??? To be somewhere else—some exotic, exciting, stimulating somewhere else? Everybody I know loves and lives for travel: Italy, Argentina, Croatia, Greece… And as soon as they return, they’re planning for the next great adventure. And I’m sure they all are ‘great adventures.’ They say to me, “You have the time, you have the money, why don’t you just go?” But… I love being here, right here, at home.

 

Here is my thought: we moved away from Portland fourteen years ago. Ever since then, when people ask me what’s our next travel plan, what’s our next destination, I reply, “Here. Right here. We are the destination! Nowhere to go. This is it.”

 

And there is a delicious stillness to it. People say, “But don’t you feel isolated up there? Don’t you feel alone?” Isolated, no. Alone— deliciously, yes. And some people say, “Isn’t it…boring? Sometimes?” No way. Why, just the other day, while walking Lolo up on the canal, I encountered a pickup truck with two young guys. They hopped out and asked if I had seen a couple of cows wandering around loose. “Why no,” I said, “I haven’t. Where did they wander away from?” “Oh, from the Mountain Meat Packing Company up there on Miller Road.” I burst out laughing and said, “Well, friends, if I see them I’m going to round them up and hide them in my back yard!” So in that random encounter I sure wouldn’t call any part of it boring. Would you? I thought not. And moreover, if I don’t want to feel alone, I can drive two miles up to Parkdale, population 430—a bustling metropolis—and hang out at the post office.

 

When I am alone, when things are in their stillness, I can—as I call it—ponder and wander. It is when my thoughts can have the space to be the most creative, and ‘productive,’ (e.g. thoughts becoming material for a short story), or when things just settle into quietude. I am not isolated. I am not alone.

 

My heart is in my home; my home is in my heart. 

 

—Jude Russell

*

 

A humble recent poem in case it might be useful.

 

I woke up with the phrase in mind, “Friendly corner.” What that mean? I asked this in my mind, and into my mind came the image of a great old tree…so I wrote the poem to learn the story of this good thing:

 

 

                    Friendly Corner

 

People use it to give directions. For neighbors, 

it’s the nexus. If we had no church or school,

this is where we’d gather, for it’s all about 

the great old tree—that’s why children come.

For the wee ones, a root hump throne makes you 

queen of all you see. A little older, you can ride 

the long low limb for horse, and race the wind. 

Older yet, climb ladder branches to find the hollow 

house for dreams. Is it any wonder mothers meet

to share their joys and sorrows? Sometimes fathers, 

too. Is this where you want to live, and what you 

want to see? There’s just one way: plant the tree.

 

—Kim Stafford

*

 

With our thoughts we create worlds, then live in them. Each day, sometimes from one moment to the next, we might find ourself in a Hell. Or a Paradise. Once we get the hang of it, perfect happiness can be ours in the blink of an eye. Our life is short. This day is precious. There is no other.

 

A few days after I wrote the previous brief meditation, I was inspired by Michel’s meditation, A BABY CRIES. Thich Nhat Hanh had written that we should treat our anger the way a mother would treat a crying baby, by holding it tenderly. In his meditation, Michel begins by saying: “I wonder, how many of us are scared of babies in some fashion—their neediness we can’t meet, their fragility we may fracture, their delicate frame, or emotional state, and more?” In the July issue, I proposed that people try a baby meditation: imagining being a baby, looking out at the world without language, concepts, identity, regrets, or problems. Michel’s meditation made me imagine another meditation. Here it is:

 

When you are by yourself, and no one is watching, cross your arms across your chest and imagine that you are holding a newborn baby against your body. Really feel it! Okay, now imagine that the baby is you. Hold your baby self tenderly in your arms and love your baby self with all your heart.

 

That’s the meditation. We all need to love ourself. For many people this is difficult. For some, it feels almost impossible. We all started our life journey as tiny babies. That innocent, fragile, perfect being is who we are. I’m hoping that this meditation will help us to feel deeply the truth of this.

 

This might also be a healing exercise for those who, like Michel, have not been around a baby for many years.

 

—Johnny Stallings

*

 

Not long ago I came across a poem that Jack Kerouac wrote to his former wife (Kerouac being the beat-era writer who inspired many of us to lead FULL lives, no matter what).  His poem includes this little passage that I’ve been savoring since I read it:

 

Practice kindness all day to everybody

and you will realize you’re already

in heaven now.

 

Thanks Jack, and thanks Johnny.      

 

love,   

 

—Bill Faricy

*

 

(As I was putting the finishing touches on this dialogue, I discovered a fresh new poem on Kim’s FaceBook page. It’s perfect for our Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue.) (JS)

 

     My Infrastructure

 

That gate latch—loose.

Shovel and hoe—dull.

Dripping faucet—priority.

Frayed shoelace—on the list.

Connectivity—upgrade overdue.

Basement storage—disaster.

Eyes, teeth, weight, feet—

years of deferred maintenance.

Preparation for the big one—a joke.

Grasp of reality—in shambles.

So—where to begin?

 

—Kim Stafford