THE OPEN ROAD

peace, love, happiness & understanding

July 2, 2026

Jill wrote:

I have often mentioned that if you want a master class in noticing the magic in the ordinary take a walk with a two-year old. Here are some details that might bring that to light:

We got down the front stairs at Eliot and Britt’s house and paused so Edie could snap the buttons of her raincoat. She got them off at first and redid them. Then we opened the yellow duck-handle umbrella and I crouched down so she could put it over my head. At the sidewalk we noticed some crows socializing so we cawed to them. 

First Block

At the alley we looked both ways and Edie certified there were no cars so we turned in. There was a grate so she walked back and forth over it several times and bent over to look at the leaves trapped below.

The pockets with snaps on her coat caught her attention and she felt inside to see if anything was in them. Crows chasing each other across the alley distracted her and we watched them settle on the telephone line above. Then Edie found some mud to step in until a bee flew by and we watched it disappear into a jasmine bush.

More mud play since she has her sparkle boots on today. 

A pile of black dirt on a crack suggested ants so we watched that for a while but no ants emerged. Turns out they were a little ways down the alley, or a few were so we gave them our attention. 

Bees/ants/mud for the next block. And squatting down for pinecones, exclaiming over bugs in gravel, picking the gravel up and watching it drop, riffling through it, finding a stone, wiping sandy hands on me, and greeting dogs and their walkers. 

Then we came to a street, checked both ways, held hands and crossed.

Second block

In the first bush we checked for spider webs. Then Edie ran ahead, looking for puddles, but didn’t find any. 

At the end of the alley we checked one backyard to see if the chickens were out. No chickens but a monster truck was parked close by!

Crossing to the park

Alberta Park had more rocks/gravel to pick up and watch drop. Sometimes Edie holds up her hands with little bits of something on them and I say she can rub her hands on my raincoat. I’m never sure what makes those bits bothersome since often she’ll happily play in dirt, get her hands dirty, and not notice. 

As we walked on the sidewalk Edie ran ahead and found a big leaf to wave and used this fan to wave at cars and make a breeze for me. We cawed at more noisy crows. She dawdled behind and yelled for me to wait. 

We found some sticky sap on the trees we were passing but didn’t touch it, remembering when we did and it was hard to get off. 

We found a pole with stickers and used our knuckles to make a rhythmic beat. 

We went up and down the embankment four times. Edie picked a tiny ground cover daisy-like flower and gave it to me. Then took it and rubbed the petals and yellow middle. She held it out in front of her and said, three times, “Here bees, I have a flower for you.”

We noticed some folks setting up for a garage sale, passed a doggie that scared Edie so she avoided it by going up the embankment, and after I followed her we walked to a baseball diamond. No one was there. We climbed on the bleachers. 

I sat on a dry part and Edie told me to get up. When I said no we began a refrain of “No” “Yes” “No” “Yes” and I noticed her voice was getting higher, like it was a song. Then she slid over and tried to push me off but got bored and swung her legs instead. Then told me “That’s my side” and hit the aluminum seat with a big bang. It made a very satisfying sound. She flipped over and laid on her tummy and swung her legs. Explored the bleachers. Smelled dog poo. We wondered where it was and looked at the trash can, which had a metal top that made great sounds – a bit like a steel drum. Edie climbed up and down the bleachers, had me swing her off, got back on her tummy to swing her legs, noticed trucks passing by, and made use of her boots to clomp noisily on the aluminum seats. 

Then it was time to continue and we went down the slope to the sidewalk – sideways since it was steep. We followed safe protocol checking on cars as we crossed Ainsworth Street. On the final part home we noticed the dogwoods were parched and I lifted her up to feel and hear the leaves. Passing a Corvette in a driveway she rubbed the headlight and hit the hood to hear the sound, which was pronounced a good one. 

Finally we were on our block and checking out the bees in Caroline’s yard. Mostly bumblebees, busy gathering pollen except we noticed some seemed to be napping on the flower heads. Edie took a flower and waved it back and forth to disperse the water in its pockets but I mentioned it would wake the bee resting nearby. We admired Caroline’s daisies and how they were a bigger version of the tiny one she had picked earlier. 

One final check as we crossed Cramer Street to our house and we were home, an hour after our adventure began. 

—Jill Littlewood

*

Symmetry

Every morning I walk Wags up on the irrigation canal. Sometimes it’s a rambunctious romp, but more often it’s a mesmerizing, rhythmic, calming time of wonder and discovery. Lately I’ve been struck by symmetry: the beautiful chevron patterns on a clover leaf, the tessellated bark of an oak, the bilateral blue of the butterfly wings, feathers on a duck’s back, veins on a leaf, a fern…

And then there’s the miraculous Fibonacci Sequence. I remember being told about the Fibonacci Sequence and the Golden Ratio when my mom and dad explained it to me at twelve years old. Some parents give their kids the sex talk when they’re that age; mine told me about THE FIBONACCI SEQUENCE! and THE GOLDEN RATIO!  I imagine you all know about it, but I remember being blown away, thinking, Really??? Wow!!!  Are you sure???   Well, yes, it’s pretty amazing and wonderful. The pine cone, the pineapple, sunflower, snail shell, flower petals…the list goes on. 

And what does that have to do with Peace Love Happiness and Understanding? I just know that when I’m paying attention to these small and wondrous things, I feel all of the above.

—Jude Russell

*

My Hauntings

I am arrested by the beautiful,

Stopped in my tracks by every

hummingbird or honeybee veering

in a blur through the somber conduct

of the modern world, by spring trees

spilling their light in a war zone, buds

bright on splintered branches, a spindle

of sunlight through storm cloud cover

that touches down on the wreckage we

have made of earth. What can I do

to recover honorable despair when

confronted by the stubborn kindness

of strangers, or the way a moth

keeps flying toward the moon?

Very soon I must get serious

but first this sip of old delight.

—Kim Stafford

*

Recently, I decided to immerse myself in the subject of Beauty. It’s been wonderful! One of the inspirations for this project has been Kathleen Raine’s essay “The Use of the Beautiful.” Here are the first two paragraphs:

What do we, at the present time, ask of poetry? I may be mistaken about precisely what is asked, but I think I am not mistaken in the conclusion that the present times does not ask — or receive — enough. Much verse published seems to set itself no goal beyond description, sometimes pleasing, but just as often of displeasing things seen or felt. I doubt if anything is to be learned from such descriptions or from the self-expression of the subjective states reflected in so much current verse. Far from expanding our consciousness, we have often, on the contrary, in order to understand such states to make ourselves smaller, like Alice, before we can get inside such mean rooms as are opened to us. Perhaps the poet gains by articulating and objectifying his neurosis (though I question whether that is the cure for souls it is said to be) but what the reader can hope to gain I fail to see. Does not the confusion at the present time come from the fact that many now writing, and writing about verse, are genuinely unaware that what they are writing about, is not, properly speaking, poetry at all — not in any way related to, or comparable with, the art as practiced and understood by those on whose account poets are, in all civilized societies, honored? It would be absurd to say that there should be no such thing as satirical verse, or descriptive, narrative, or occasional verse; what is deplorable is the confusion of mind which has arisen, even among those who claim to be poets: an ignorance of the order of things to which their own work purports to belong, a forgetting, a deliberate turning away from the recognition that they share neither the ends, the means, nor the knowledge, of what I cannot but call real poets. 

There is one word for which we may look in vain in the writings of contemporary critics: the word beauty and the idea of the beautiful, has ceased to count for anything. Why is this? Has this age discovered something better or have we simply failed to understand a concept which to other civilizations has seemed inseparable from any consideration of the arts? I will not labour the obvious fact that this is a beautiless society. Does this matter? In losing beauty have we lost anything vital to our arts or indeed to our lives? No need to enumerate the material advantages of hygiene, transport, television, frozen vegetables and so on, not enjoyed by ages whose typical expressions were the sculptures and paintings, cathedrals and liturgy of the Christian religion; yet in terms of happiness, our exchange might be harder to defend, and in terms of the quality of our lives, harder still. George Russell, the Irish sage who wrote on the relation of what he called ‘the politics of time’ to ‘the politics of eternity’ observed that “One of the very first symptoms of the loss of the soul is the loss of the sense of beauty.” Is what our society has lost perhaps its soul?

—Kathleen Raine, “The Use of the Beautiful” (1966), from Defending Ancient Springs

In my quest for Beauty, I came upon a wonderful interview with John O’Donohue on YouTube called “What Is Beauty?” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mkUrv4jWipY&t=540s) Highly recommended!

Another delight-filled project has been making versions of some of Thomas Traherne’s meditations—which I’m planning to make into a book. It’s hard to pick, but here are some of them:

20

Love with all your heart—and be happy. This world is then a jewel. It is Paradise. Everything is here for your delight. Love all that is good and enjoy what you love. Love is our nature. When we love everyone and are loved by everyone we are happy.

27

You never enjoy the world aright, till you see that a grain of sand is a perfect miracle. Everything is here for your delight—not just because things are beautiful, or useful, but because our life is woven into the tapestry of all that is. Wine quenches more than our thirst when we feel it to be one of the countless miracles which are ours to enjoy, and give thanks. When the happiness of others makes us happy, life is good. To be grateful for all our blessings is to be blessed, to live in Paradise.

28

Your enjoyment of the world is never right till every morning you awake in Paradise—until you look upon the earth and sky with boundless joy. If you are grateful for everything, no one who ever lived has more reason to be happy than you.

29 

You never enjoy the world aright, till the sea flows in your veins, till you are clothed with the heavens, and crowned with the stars—till you perceive yourself to be the sole heir of the whole world, and more than so, because people are in it who are every one sole heirs as well as you. Till you can sing and rejoice and delight in all of creation, as misers do in gold, you never enjoy the world.

81

Everywhere and at all times be ready to help others. Do it with infinite joy, knowing it is your duty. Since you have the privilege of enjoying the world, do your best to help others to find peace and love and happiness. In this way you are beautifying your life and perfuming the world. Every small charitable act benefits everyone everywhere.

82

There are virtuous people who are concealed like jewels. Dig for them! You will know them by their luster. Become virtuous, so that they may recognize you by your luster and desire and esteem you for your virtue. For as it is the glory of the sun that darkness cannot approach it, because it is always encompassed by its own beams, so lovers of virtue are always secure in their own light. Infuse yourself and your principles into beginners who desire to walk on the path of virtue. Mingle with those on the path as delightful companions. Those who are most sublime and perfect in the luster of their spirit will allure, protect, encourage, comfort, teach, honor and delight you. But you must be very good, for that is the way to find them. And very patient to endure some time, and very diligent to observe where they are.

83

Those you find of noble and benevolent natures—discreet and magnanimous, liberal and cheerful, wise and righteous—will be your greatest treasures. They will turn your world into a Paradise. They will give comfort and counsel to you, and in all tenderness, constancy, fidelity and love will share their life with your own. There are exceedingly few such friends. Yet some may doubtless be found. With half a dozen such as these, wisely chosen, we can entertain ourselves always with sublime dialogue and delight in our shared affection.

—Kathleen Raine, Thomas Traherne & Johnny Stallings