When the Morning Stars Sang Together by William Blake

THE OPEN ROAD

peace, love & happiness newsletter

June 18, 2020

The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing which stands in the way.

—from William Blake’s letter to John Trusler, August 16, 1799

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“I always say to myself: What is the most important thing we can think about at this extraordinary moment?”

—R. Buckminster Fuller, from I Seem To Be a Verb

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Nancy and I have been worrying about the men and women who are in prisons and jails at this difficult time. I was telling Kim about a conversation I had with Rocky Hutchinson—that I was touched to learn that Rocky was worrying about us. The next day, while my coffee buddies and I were having Zoom fellowship, this poem from Kim arrived in my email box:

Inmate Calls Home 

Mom, I been all night worried—

this virus thing, they say it gets everywhere.

So don’t go out, okay? Get food, sit tight.

Read. Just read. You like that. Make calls. 

Not great, I know. You love those friends. 

Nights, I hear you tell them things. 

Mom, I been worried—cabin fever. Yeah, 

on the inside we’re used to that. Lots of practice.

Time just turns like a silly dancer, you watch it.

But Mom, what you gonna do with all that time? 

No visits, no go where you want, no bench

in that park you like.  

Nights, Mom, no worry. No worry,

okay? Me, I’m good. I’m so good.

—Kim Stafford

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Howard Thoresen sent a couple of poems:

Life-and-Death

Water isn’t formed by being ladled 

into a bucket

Simply the water of the whole Universe has been ladled

Into a bucket

The water does not disappear because it has been

Scattered over the ground

It is only that the water of the whole Universe

Has been emptied into the whole Universe 

Life is not born because a person is born

The life of the whole Universe has been ladled

Into the hardened “idea” called “I”

Life does not disappear because a person dies

Simply, the life of the whole Universe has

Been poured out of this hardened “idea” of “I”

back into the Universe.

—Uchiyama Roshi  

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It Is I Who Must Begin

It is I who must begin.

Once I begin, once I try —

here and now,

right where I am,

not excusing myself

by saying things

would be easier elsewhere,

without grand speeches and

ostentatious gestures,

but all the more persistently

— to live in harmony

with the “voice of Being,” as I

understand it within myself

— as soon as I begin that,

I suddenly discover,

to my surprise, that

I am neither the only one,

nor the first,

nor the most important one

to have set out

upon that road.

Whether all is really lost

or not depends entirely on

whether or not I am lost.

— Václav Havel 

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Reminders from Walt:

I…peruse manifold objects, no two alike and every one good,

The earth good and the stars good and their adjuncts all good….

Dazzling and tremendous how quick the sun-rise would kill me,

If I could not now and always send sun-rise out of me.

—from “Song of Myself by Walt Whitman

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And a very short story:

A woman went to see her therapist, who was also a woman.  “I have a problem,” she began.  

“Yes?” the therapist said, in that way that therapists do.  

“It’s my husband,” the woman said.  

“I don’t see your husband here,” said the therapist.  

“He’s not here,” said the woman.  

“Where is your problem?” asked the therapist.  

“In my mind,” the woman said, and suddenly realized highest perfect enlightenment.

—Johnny Stallings