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SUMMARY:Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue 1/15/21
DESCRIPTION:Open Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue \n  \nJanuary 15\, 2020 \n  \nWelcome to our fifth meditation and mindfulness dialogue! The numbers below refer to passages from the book Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh. (JS) \n* \n  \nWITHOUT \n  \nPicture nothing. \n  \nNothing is pictured. \n  \nAnd then everything food sex stoplight \nyoga mat grocery bag little gnat— \n  \nas through a valve \nin the middle of that pictured \nnothing: \n  \nit all comes rushing \nlike sparks \njetting in the void. \n  \nThe ocean goes back in the bottle \nonly when you ignore it. \n  \nI flit from station to station\, \nknowing nothing of meditation. \n  \nAnd I seek out mute buttons \nas if there are more than one\, \nas if it is something that exists \n  \nwithout. \n  \n—Alex Tretbar \n* \n  \nMr. Barnes\, in the December issue you said you wrote the paper (letter) six times over\, but know\, more times than not\, the first writing is always the best\, since when re-written over and over you can lose the essence of your writing. Don’t overthink it. The first edition was your rawest\, which tends to be most true and to the heart. I find that in journaling\, when I go back to read previous entries\, I think I should have said it this way or that\, but in reality it is its most true and rawest\, honest to who you are. \n  \nI also would give you this thought in regards to what you wrote about how we all were born upon a set of scales that started to tip in one direction or the other since our birth. I understand your concept of the scale relating to one side being good\, while the other is bad. But… Have you considered that there is no scale? In reading #312 None Other Than Enlightenment in Your True Home it seemed to me that the basic premise is that through enlightenment there is no scale. You can see the truth in all things\, that truth being the good and bad in all things. Good and bad are one thing: the flower in the garbage and the garbage in the flower. \n  \nMr. Gilbert\, so many things this year have showed us that society is in dire need of a change\, and that we all need a little more enlightenment. There is a lot of me me me\, hate\, blame for this or that\, or: since you don’t believe what I believe I hate you. I briefly touched on this in November’s issue of M & M\, but I will write a little more. On 11/2/20 I read #346 What Separates Us in our book Your True Home. In the message\, it talks about labels. Putting labels on people is hurtful and destructive. Labels are what’s currently wrong in society. It’s us vs. them. Labels are something that hurts every one of us. Society uses labels  to dehumanize\, to separate us into groups\, and if we can eliminate labels there can be peace in the world. We are all people on this planet\, one society\, one human race\, and until we get that our society will not be able to heal. Be the one! On society\, one human race\, one world together. \n  \nWhat I want to write about for myself is about something that really affected me to the point of tears forming when I started journaling. I debated even writing this in the newsletter because of how it affected me and how personal it is to me\, but after writing to my friend Jacob Green about what happened\, I started to feel empowered to include what happened for everyone in the newsletter. On 12/2/20 I read #316 The Smile of Nonfear in Your True Home. This passage for some reason stirred something inside me. It’s the word “afflictions” that woke this thought\, but really the whole bottom half spoke to me. Afflictions have been something I have been struggling with for a large part of my prison sentence. I’ve seen that what I had done to land me in prison these 18 years was an affliction. I concentrated on that “perceived” affliction for those first years\, trying to correct where I went wrong. It took many many years to find my path to better and correct who I am\, and to this point I\, in some ways\, didn’t know how I got there\, or where I am today. But now\, in reading #316\, I may have a little more of an idea. I recognized early on that a big part of what I did was founded on a deluded mind and thought pattern that needed correcting if I was to live a life outside these fences. If I couldn’t succeed in correcting my deluded mind\, thought pattern and affliction\, I didn’t deserve a life outside the fence\, or maybe even a life at all. What I saw in myself was only a deluded mind and thoughts\, and in doing so I could only see the afflictions within myself.  \n  \nSomehow\, over the years\, a slow chip away happened. I found my true mind\, and in doing so I no longer only saw my afflictions\, but saw much more. Call it enlightenment. I no longer concentrated on my deluded mind or thoughts\, which in turn\, I suppose\, allowed me to truly heal my affliction that got me here to prison. I am still not perfect by far\, none of us are\, but I truly believe I have healed enough now to start my next chapter in life. A life outside these fences. A life as me and who I am. A life that will allow me to continue to heal and better who I am\, the person I know I am and want to be. \n  \nAbove is what I wrote in my journal. I know that many guys in prison struggle with their afflictions that caused and/or contributed to their incarceration. Some feel they don’t deserve forgiveness\, and forgiveness from those you hurt may never come\, but forgiveness of yourself is possible. It happens with internal healing and the enlightenment that you don’t need to run away from your afflictions\, because with a true mind the afflictions are no longer there. And without afflictions there is only enlightenment; through enlightenment you will see much more within yourself. \n  \nThanks for listening. May peace\, love\, harmony and mindfulness be with you all. \n  \n—Joshua Underhill \n* \n  \nA meditative mind is silent. It is not the silence which thought can conceive of; it is not the silence of a still evening; it is the silence when thought—with all its images\, its words and perceptions—has entirely ceased. This meditative mind is the religious mind—the religion that is not touched by the church\, the temple or by chants. \n  \nThe religious mind is the explosion of love. It is this love that knows no separation. To it\, far is near. It is not the one or the many\, but rather the state of love in which all division ceases. Like beauty\, it is not of the measure of words. From this silence alone the meditative mind acts. \n  \nfrom Meditations by J. Krishnamurti \n* \n  \n(Here are a few of Michel Deforge’s many meditations from December:) \n  \nDecember 2  #47  The Mind of Enlightenment \n  \nIt is amazing what a few days of not mindfully breathing\, or purpose (practicing) can do to my mental state—more mercurial and more affected by influences. (grrr) It’s my own doing. I can’t blame anyone. Maybe…I can just relax\, breathe; and let it be what it is…? (Breathing…) How funny. Today is about bodhichitta and a “goal” of practice—to\, ultimately\, be able to aid/relieve the suffering of others. Wow! It’s funny because I see myself\, right now\, being very deep in my own mud/suffering. Getting better\, or anything positive\, is so far from my experience of now. And\, forget about being of help or benefit …Yet\, even now\, I may learn\, and from my learning\, another may derive a benefit. If I waste my “now” on later—how/if I’ll be anything—then I’ll miss my lesson on how perfect today’s “mud”-bath really is. (I don’t know why I’m “in” mud today. It’s a metaphor for suffering\, being human—made of the same mud as all other humans.) Even when I don’t “like” my now\, it really is perfect. Now\, where’s my snorkel? I think I lost a shoe! Oh well. It’s perfectly placed for now. (Better?) (Yes!) \n  \nDecember 3  #48  Enjoy a Moment of Nothing \n  \n(Taking a moment…) This is the essence of Buddhism\, for me. To sit and enjoy doing “nothing.” But\, it’s not nothing—(I’m channeling my inner Pooh Bear)—it’s a very wonderful something. It’s sitting. It’s being. It’s breathing. It’s often mind wandering and coming back; then wandering off again. It’s learning to enjoy me\, now\, in this moment. Breathing and existing (being) in a mindful moment/experience of each now\, as the moments pass. Enjoying nothing can allow all the moments of something a little more presence and mindful enjoyability\, if I want. \n  \nDecember 7  #49  What is a Leaf? \n  \nThây points out how everything\, including me and you\, is made from other things. A leaf is composed of so many things\, and so many things were critical to the growth of a particular leaf. Life is interdependent. When some say\, “We’re all in this together\,” I believe this is a deeper meaning behind a rallying cry for some cause. We do all exist in the same world. We share the same air\, the same soil\, the same clouds\, rain\, etc. We’re all made of the same elements—reduced to base elements\, carbon\, nitrogen\, oxygen\, etc. With so much sameness\, how can I accept you as different from me? I do… \n  \nThis is where I see the ego come in. Something tells me that I am special\, unique\, and unlike everyone and everything else; that there’s no connection whatsoever to anything or anyone else. Yet\, if I take away all the parts of me (good or bad) that come from someone else or something else\, “I” cease to exist entirely. Without you\, there is no me: both in the realm of duality and\, also\, in the realm of inter-dependence. “I” also can’t continue to exist (survive) without “you.” Too often I attempt to behave as if I am all that is. I think that it is only when I embrace otherness (or others) that I truly begin to live. This is not easy. It requires compassion for weaknesses\, mine too. It requires seeing “other” as same—not different or separate from. \n  \nHere on paper it is so easy to lay out\, contemplate and visualize. In the realm of action/reaction (reality?)—ego\, fear\, duality\, separateness—disconnect happens. I become guarded from you\, forgetting how much I need each and every other “you” out there\, so “I” can survive too. That’s my journey: finding my way to compassion\, vulnerability and interdependence (not co-dependence…). \n  \nDecember 10  #51  Subtle Gestures \n  \nI find myself slowing down while reading and snacking—mindlessly. Yet\, as I read\, and felt my breath I un-deliberately (un-intentionally) slowed down and savored my moments… The sensations aren’t profound\, but noticing them seems slightly so. That’s kinda neat; catching all the subtleties\, flavor\, muscles working\, crunching\, tasting\, breathing\, hearing…and then…like that *! (snap) It’s all over. I often find that life’s “best” moments come from those subtle gestures\, and they’re often done without guile or deliberateness—they have intent of kindness\, but it is a life state not as much as an effort to set out to do a kind act. Words fail to describe ideas fully\, the thought carries on all the same. \n  \nDecember 16  #54  Rites of Life \n  \n….I have experienced a few of those key moments—ones where flow happened\, or where I was perfectly attuned (although I do not recall them\, due to lacking focused awareness.) I imagine that by having awareness I could experience the moments completely as they exist in time—maybe learn a lesson of life from the moment\, create a deep etched memory\, or simply exist in the perfection of that moment\, watching as it passes to the next perfect moment—maybe even departing from “time.” \n  \nIs life a string of moments haphazardly strung together with no rhyme or reasoning? Can there be more than that\, accessed by simply being mindful and aware? I don’t think it needs to be a BIG production\, or some fantastic event(s). I like the idea of simple awareness\, exercised through each moment—not just on the cushion…. \n  \n—Michel Deforge \n* \n  \n#314  Melt the Ice of Knowledge \n  \nOften in my experience of living in prison there have been “rules” or “discriminating views” on this or that person. There is an atmospheric influence that enforces racial segregation and fuels hate amongst others. It’s follow the rules\, or the road. (As of late\, the Road is wide open and lovely. Join me?) Harboring one train of thought as truth\, and not having an open heart and open mind\, blurs the hidden beauty of truth in others—obstructed by societal upbringings\, social media\, and other major influences. Abandonment of views\, or opinions\, is an ice pick of relief\, chipping away the cold ice of hate\, oppression\, single-mindedness\, and when you can finally free yourself from the icy blur of lies and deceit\, you will find that what you thought was truth was an obstacle holding you from seeing the beauty in the soul of everyone/everything. Having an open heart\, open mind\, and leaving the views you’ve been taught\, you will learn so much\, and be able to see life\, and live life\, with deeper meaning\, and understanding. \n  \nI send all the Open Road/M & M family and the world Peace Love Happiness and Good Vibes. You all are beautiful and deserve the most! \n  \nTill next time \n  \nJake Green \n* \n  \nPhone Call to Ancient Times  \n  \nOut on the lawn\, under the aspen tree \nwhere I can get good cell reception\,  \nI took a call from Johnny\, who began  \ntelling about a friend in prison\, in \nthe hole again for some infraction\, \nand I stood so still\, listening\, from \nthe blackberry thicket a rabbit \ncrept under the fence to nibble grass \nat my feet\, a lolloping fist of fur  \nwith whiskers and little ears\, with  \nan inquisitive tremble\, amiable ghost  \nfrom the lost world we shared  \nwhen there was enough for all. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nI have some thoughts about the “perfect moments” Michel wrote about in his meditations on December 14th and 16th. He mentioned slowing down. I have found that when I’m preparing a meal\, if\, instead of doing it fast\, I slow down\, I get great pleasure from cutting the vegetables. This is true for eating the meal\, doing the dishes—for any activity\, even walking across the room. \n  \nJoseph Campbell and many others say that eternity is not a long time\, it’s timelessness. We have all experienced countless perfect moments. We don’t remember most of them because they leave no trace. It’s not a problem. We don’t need to remember them. The next one is coming soon. Maybe this is it. \n  \n—Johnny Stallings \n* \n  \n#361: Offering Flowers to the Buddha \n  \nThis is about impermanence and how we should and should not view it. Impermanence is constant. Often viewed as negative\, as decay and death\, as loss\, and T N Hanh tells us we should enjoy things in their present moment instead of bemoaning their impermanence. \n  \nAgreed. But I take it a step further. Impermanence is death in one sense\, but also seeds of life in another. Let’s look at nature\, my favorite example for everything. \n  \nMost people see spring as birth\, rebirth\, life\, growth; summer as lushness\, abundance\, profusion\, light\, sun…life.  \n  \nThey tend to view fall as one of dying\, decay\, shutting down\, going dark. And winter? Ah\, the ultimate death: dark\, cold\, still…hibernation (from hibernus\, Latin for wintry. And  ‘hiver\,’ French for winter\, etc.) \n  \nBut when fall comes\, I feel most alive\, alert\, sharp\, eager\, ready to get-to-work. Nature agrees: bushy\, brilliant trees shed their leaves exposing lean\, bare\, shining\, black limbs\, looking like they’ve pushed up their sleeves to get ready to work. Their lean or muscular trunks stand sturdily in agreement. And now\, without all that busy foliage\, we have views beyond\, to the hills\, the sky. Views ahead. And what lies ahead? More life! Bare limbs\, branches\, and twigs house and host hundred of birds\, perching\, hopping about\, twittering\, swooping down to fetch seeds\, insects\, worms… Worms! What’s going on in all those fallen leaves\, anyway? Life\, in the form of worms! Millions of dark red\, wriggling creatures burrowing\, chomping\, aerating their way into and through piles of leaves. Creating mulch! And mulch = life! My garden loves that decayed\, death-like stuff. It eats it up! It brings me the biggest\, leafiest\, fattest\, brightest vegetables you can imagine.  \n  \nWhat else is happening when all the extravagance of spring and summer is gone? I’ll tell you what: Fungi\, that’s what!  \n  \nWhoa\, that creepy\, sneaky dark stuff that smells funky and looks weird? You bet!  \n  \nMushrooms\, lichens\, molds\, all sorts of fungi = Life! Look at bread\, wine\, beer\, cheese. All created with the indispensable help of fungi. (And what’s pizza without mushrooms\, anyway?) And look at penicillin and other antibiotics; ergot\, or LSD; fungi chemicals that produce statins! Life savers!  \n  \nFinally\, is winter really death-like? Is it the end of life? Well\, are we dead when we sleep each night? Of course not. A good night’s sleep is purely restorative\, and a good winter is nothing less. Can you imagine never sleeping but just going full-bore 24/7? Day in/day out\, year in/year out? You wouldn’t make it past day two or three. Seasons are nature’s parallel; fall and winter are rest and sleep\, but always with restoration and life at the core. \n  \nAnd then we die. Is that the end of it all? Not on your life! I will be cremated and my daughter knows just which mountain wildflower  meadow to scatter me in. I will be bone meal for the Avalanche lilies\, the valerian\, the paintbrush\, and they will love me for the strength and life I’ve brought to them. \n  \nSo (really) finally\, all these things produced by the ostensible death of stuff are nothing less that LIFE for the world.  \n  \n—Jude Russell (alive and well) \n* \n  \nThe Hsin Hsin Ming reminds me of the Dhammapada\, a collection of poetry that summarizes early Buddhist teachings. I find the Dhammapada to be very inspirational. \n  \nTaking ownership for my biases\, I do not understand the representation of Zen Buddhism as it appears in American culture. The Buddha gifted us with clear and concise instructions for training the mind\, often referred to as the Noble Eightfold Path. Meditation\, lifestyle changes\, and challenging our beliefs about “how the world works.” If you read the Buddha’s sermons in a “thematically progressive” order\, a very clear instruction manual emerges. Personally\, I need that. I’ve never really had a mind for philosophy or theology. But American Zen really advocates this message of “do nothing.” Don’t meditate. Don’t make lifestyle changes. Don’t challenge your beliefs\, because all beliefs are false. It is as though the Eightfold Path was completely cancelled out by Zen masters several hundreds of years ago. But I have a friend who ordained and studied at Venerable Thay’s Plum Village\, that is a very rigorous study and meditation practice. And people who went to study Chan in China also report: “study and meditation.” I visited a traditional Japanese Zen monastery in Washington\, and the monastics there lived and practiced in a very similar manner to the Ajahn Chah monasteries I am familiar with. So\, my bias\, my prejudice\, is I don’t understand American Zen. Traditional Zen uses the same meditation “manual” as my Vipassana meditation practice\, the Satipatthana Sutta\, “The Four Bases of Mindfulness.” Venerable  Thay [Thich Nhat Hanh] is an expert scholar of the Satipatthana Sutta in all of the ancient languages in which it was preserved\, and I have a lot of respect for his teaching. End of the day\, “their” practices are more similar than dissimilar to what I’m familiar with. \n  \n—Shad Alexander \n* \n  \nThank you Thich Nhat Hanh\, Johnny Stallings \nand your wonderful friends!  \n  \nI am here \nI see (or hear or touch) some thing \nI know it  \nYes (tiny smile) I am meditating \nMy knowing it \nMy seeing \nand my being here \nare somehow  \nrelated Yes (chuckle to myself) I am ok \nsomehow divisions \nare eased \ncan I “feel” \nhow you also \nare breathing \ncan I deeply  \nunderstand \nthat the  \nwater from a \ncloud \nis my relation? \nthe light and gray \ncolors from \nthat cloud \ncome all the \nway here \nluminous here \ncan these hard \nlines \nthese \nseeming forever \nwalls \nbe continually \n“eased” “understood” \n“held” like a child \nI am dissatisfied \ncrying inside like \na wailing child \nor a crazy politician \ncan I remember \nwhat I said \nabove \nI am here \nmy fear my dissatisfaction \nis here also \nbut I am holding (embracing) it \nlike my own mother \nlike my own niece \nlike my own beloved lover \nI am not \nkilling my fear my dissatisfaction \nmy crying child \nI am embracing them \nbreathing a long side \nbelly and fear \nare not unrelated \nare they? \nForever \nsmile \nlaugh (to yourself – don’t let them \nknow you are crazy) \nI can even \nstart to \nthink of your \nbreathing your \nthinking \nyour pain \nas my relation \nalthough these sentences are calming \ncan you \nsit here \nfor a few seconds \nor a short time \nwithout reading \nthese sentences \njust sit here \nwith the satisfaction \nbreathing \nthen with the dissatisfaction \nbreathing \nthe pain of the \nworld is also \nyours \nsmile you are Good \ncontinue forever \nmake up your \nown writing your own \nsong of the open \nlet it in form us and \nyou \nhow to dance our \nloving meditating  \n  \n—Alan Benditt  \n(roughly November 14\, 2020) 
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/meditation-mindfulness-dialogue-1-15-21/
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SUMMARY:Metropolitan Opera: Nightly Met Opera Streams
DESCRIPTION:A new opera is shown every day\, starting at 4:30 pm (PST). Each opera Met streams for 20 hours.\nHere’s the link to the Metropolitan Opera.
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/https-www-metopera-org-about-press-releases-met-to-launch-nightly-met-opera-streams-a-free-series-of-encore-live-in-hd-presentations-streamed-on-the-company-website-during-the-coronavirus-closure/
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SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  2/4/21
DESCRIPTION:  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nFebruary 4\, 2021 \n  \nTwo weeks ago\, at the Presidential Inauguration\, Amanda Gorman\, America’s first Youth Poet Laureate recited her poem “The Hill We Climb.” (Read it aloud.): \n  \nThe Hill We Climb \n  \nMr. President\, Dr. Biden\, Madam Vice President\, Mr. Emhoff\, Americans and the world:  \n  \nWhen day comes we ask ourselves where can we find light in this never-ending shade? The loss we carry a sea we must wade. We’ve braved the belly of the beast. We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace. In the norms and notions of what just is isn’t always justice. And yet\, the dawn is ours before we knew it. Somehow we do it. Somehow we’ve weathered and witnessed a nation that isn’t broken\, but simply unfinished. We\, the successors of a country and a time where a skinny black girl descended from slaves and raised by a single mother can dream of becoming president only to find herself reciting for one. \n  \nAnd yes\, we are far from polished\, far from pristine\, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t striving to form a union that is perfect. We are striving to forge our union with purpose. To compose a country committed to all cultures\, colors\, characters\, and conditions of man. And so we lift our gazes not to what stands between us\, but what stands before us. We close the divide because we know to put our future first\, we must first put our differences aside. We lay down our arms so we can reach out our arms to one another. We seek harm to none and harmony for all. Let the globe\, if nothing else\, say this is true. That even as we grieved\, we grew. That even as we hurt\, we hoped. That even as we tired\, we tried that we’ll forever be tied together victorious. Not because we will never again know defeat\, but because we will never again sow division. \n  \nScripture tells us to envision that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree and no one shall make them afraid. If we’re to live up to our own time\, then victory won’t lie in the blade\, but in all the bridges we’ve made. That is the promise to glade\, the hill we climb if only we dare. It’s because being American is more than a pride we inherit. It’s the past we step into and how we repair it. We’ve seen a force that would shatter our nation rather than share it. Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy. And this effort very nearly succeeded. \n  \nBut while democracy can be periodically delayed\, it can never be permanently defeated. In this truth\, in this faith we trust for while we have our eyes on the future\, history has its eyes on us. This is the era of just redemption. We feared it at its inception. We did not feel prepared to be the heirs of such a terrifying hour\, but within it\, we found the power to author a new chapter\, to offer hope and laughter to ourselves so while once we asked\, how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe? Now we assert\, how could catastrophe possibly prevail over us? \n  \nWe will not march back to what was\, but move to what shall be a country that is bruised\, but whole\, benevolent\, but bold\, fierce\, and free. We will not be turned around or interrupted by intimidation because we know our inaction and inertia will be the inheritance of the next generation. Our blunders become their burdens. But one thing is certain\, if we merge mercy with might and might with right\, then love becomes our legacy and change our children’s birthright. \n  \nSo let us leave behind a country better than one we were left with. Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one. We will rise from the gold-limbed hills of the West. We will rise from the wind-swept Northeast where our forefathers first realized revolution. We will rise from the Lake Rim cities of the Midwestern states. We will rise from the sun-baked South. We will rebuild\, reconcile and recover in every known nook of our nation\, in every corner called our country our people diverse and beautiful will emerge battered and beautiful. When day comes\, we step out of the shade aflame and unafraid. The new dawn blooms as we free it. For there is always light. If only we’re brave enough to see it. If only we’re brave enough to be it. \n  \n—Amanda Gorman  January 20\, 2021 \n  \nHere’s a link to a video of her reciting the poem: \n  \nhttps://www.nytimes.com/video/us/politics/100000007561374/poet-amanda-gorman-inauguration.html?searchResultPosition=1 \n* \n  \nPrabu sent me his thoughts on Tolstoy’s last novel\, Resurrection.: \n  \nTolstoy’s final novel opens in a courtroom\, where Dmitri Nekhlyudov\, a landowning aristocrat\, called onto jury service\, finds out that Katusha\, his teenage love\, is among the three accused of a murder and theft. Katusha used to be a maid at his aunt’s estate when Nekhlyudov first met her. They fell in love and she eventually became pregnant with his child. \n  \nIn 19th century Russia\, it was not uncommon for an aristocrat to impregnate a maid. Tolstoy himself had a similar affair with one of his household servants before his marriage. Nekhlyudov doesn’t feel any moral obligation for Katusha or the child. He moves forward with his aristocratic life—becomes a soldier\, returns to the civil society\, drinks\, has affairs with married women\, and courts a young princess for marriage. \n  \nKatusha’s journey\, however\, takes a different turn. Who wants a pregnant maid in the staff quarters\, after all? She gets kicked out of her job in the estate. She finds several jobs\, but repeatedly gets molested at work. She gives birth to a son and leaves him in a  orphanage. Circumstances get her into prostitution. She accepts her condition and gets a legal permit from the government. One day a wealthy client of hers\, who torments her for a whole evening\, gets killed in the hotel room. She is accused of the murder and ends up in the courtroom. She even gets wrongly convicted and sentenced to hard labor in Siberia\, due to some petty negligence of the men on the jury and the judge.  \n  \nFor Nekhlyudov\, the truth that his actions lead to Katusha’s ill fate starts to sink in. His Christian conscience seeks pardon for his sins. He immediately approaches a lawyer and appeals for a hearing of her case in the Senate. He also decides to marry her\, if she consents.  \n  \nHas Nekhlyudov turned into a moral human? Where was this conscience all these years?  Why was he able to go on living without thinking about the consequences of his actions? These aren’t my questions. Tolstoy’s protagonist questions himself along these lines. The answer\, as Nekhlyudov and Tolstoy would discover\, is somewhere hidden in the values of landowning in feudal Russian society.  \n  \nNekhlyudov’s abandonment of love for the pursuit of pleasure and status was the injustice which occurred in the spiritual realm. In the worldly realm\, the feudalistic idea of treating land and earth simply as a property that certain privileged humans can own and control at the expense of other humans\, like farmers and peasants\, is the underlying crime. In the novel Nekhlyudov realizes this and seeks remedies for it by distributing most of his estates to the peasants and keeping only what is essential to support a simple life for himself. \n  \nThe Senate rejects Katusha’s case and she\, along with other prisoners\, begins walking on the 3000 mile journey to Siberia. He writes to the Tsar\, explaining the jury’s mistake in her case\, and decides to follow her to Siberia. Through his interaction with some of the other prisoners\, he discovers that there are several innocent people among them. He tries to help them by all possible means\, but often comes up against the power and wealth of his old aristocratic way of living. At times it even allures him to retreat into it.  His conscience  resists. He can seek cure for his own past mistakes\, but how much can he change the injustices in society? Would his well-intended actions lead to any fruitful results? What is one to do with evildoers\, like those who murder someone? \n  \nTolstoy concludes by reflecting on the centuries old practice of punishing criminals: \n  \n“For many centuries people who were considered criminals have been tortured. Well\, and have they ceased to exist? No; their numbers have been increased not alone by the criminals corrupted by punishment but also by those lawful criminals\, the judges\, procureurs\, magistrates and jailers\, who judge and punish men. Nekhlyudov now understood that society and order in general exists not because of these lawful criminals who judge and punish others\, but because in spite of men being thus depraved\, they still pity and love one another. \n  \nDoesn’t the Gospel tell the same in the Sermon on the Mount?—that man should not only not demand an eye for an eye\, but when struck on one cheek should hold out the other\, should forgive an offence and bear it humbly\, and never refuse the service others demand of him.” \n  \nLike Nekhlyudov\, I also lay silent in my bed on this rainy night\, waiting for the first light of dawn to touch my window and imagining a society where these principles were carried out in practice. Only a century has passed between us. \n  \n—Prabu Muruganantham \n* \n  \nThe conclusion of Prabu’s essay reminds me of William Blake’s words: \n  \nLove to faults is always blind\, \nAlwasy is to joy inclin’d\, \nLawless\, wing’d & unconfin’d\, \nAnd breaks all chains from every mind. \n* \n  \nMay all people be happy. \nMay we live in love. \n—Johnny
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-2-4-21/
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DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20210214
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20210228
DTSTAMP:20260502T210511
CREATED:20210209T225318Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20210219T164629Z
UID:1753-1613260800-1614470399@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:Bibliophiles Unanimous! Valentine's Day Special: LOVE POEMS
DESCRIPTION:Paolo and Francesca by Anselm Feuerbach \n  \nValentine’s Day Special! LOVE POEMS.  \n  \nWe read love poems. Joining our merry band of lovers were Jude Russell\, Martha Ragland\, Nancy Scharbach\, Jeffrey Sher\, Dave Duncan\, Ken Margolis and Johnny Stallings. Katie Radditz couldn’t come\, but she sent some poems. Jeffrey got the ball rolling with a poem by Theodore Roethke\, and later added one by William Carlos Williams: \n  \nI Knew a Woman \n\n\n\n  \nI knew a woman\, lovely in her bones\, \nWhen small birds sighed\, she would sigh back at them;    \nAh\, when she moved\, she moved more ways than one:    \nThe shapes a bright container can contain! \nOf her choice virtues only gods should speak\, \nOr English poets who grew up on Greek \n(I’d have them sing in chorus\, cheek to cheek). \n\n  \nHow well her wishes went! She stroked my chin\,    \nShe taught me Turn\, and Counter-turn\, and Stand;    \nShe taught me Touch\, that undulant white skin;    \nI nibbled meekly from her proffered hand;    \nShe was the sickle; I\, poor I\, the rake\, \nComing behind her for her pretty sake \n(But what prodigious mowing we did make). \n\n  \nLove likes a gander\, and adores a goose: \nHer full lips pursed\, the errant note to seize; \nShe played it quick\, she played it light and loose;    \nMy eyes\, they dazzled at her flowing knees;    \nHer several parts could keep a pure repose\,    \nOr one hip quiver with a mobile nose \n(She moved in circles\, and those circles moved). \n\n  \nLet seed be grass\, and grass turn into hay:    \nI’m martyr to a motion not my own; \nWhat’s freedom for? To know eternity. \nI swear she cast a shadow white as stone.    \nBut who would count eternity in days? \nThese old bones live to learn her wanton ways:    \n(I measure time by how a body sways). \n\n  \n–Theodore Roethke \n\n\n  \nHere’s Theodore Roethke reading the poem: \n  \n \n  \n\n\n\n* \nThis Is Just To Say \n\n\n\n  \nI have eaten \nthe plums \nthat were in \nthe ice box \n  \nand which \nyou were probably \nsaving \nfor breakfast \n  \nForgive me \nthey were delicious \nso sweet \nand so cold \n  \n–William Carlos Williams \n* \nJude played Offenbach’s Barcarolle for us\, sung by Anna Netrebko & Elīna Garanča\, from Tales of Hoffmann: \n  \n \n  \n* \nDave read “Re-Statement of Romance” by Wallace Stevens: \n  \nRe-Statement of Romance \n  \nThe night knows nothing of the chants of night. \nIt is what it is as I am what I am: \nAnd in perceiving this I best perceive myself \n  \nAnd you. Only we two may interchange \nEach in the other what each has to give. \nOnly we two are one\, not you and night\, \n  \nNor night and I\, but you and I\, alone\, \nSo much alone\, so deeply by ourselves\, \nSo far beyond the casual solitudes\, \n  \nThat night is only the background of our selves\, \nSupremely true each to its separate self\, \nIn the pale light that each upon the other \nthrows. \n  \n–Wallace Stevens \n* \nMartha read “Wish in a War Zone” by Amy Gerstler\, from Bitter Angel\, published in 1990\, and “The Shirt” by Jane Kenyon: \n  \nWish in a War Zone \n  \nSomewhere under the weather \nsnores our drugged hero: \na gladiator or astronaut\, \nlying in a fringed hammock \nin his mother’s garden\, \nwaiting to be wakened \nand loosed upon the world. \nQuick\, into my arms before \nthe next tremor hits. \nJust beneath these monsoons\, \nan aurora borealis trembles. \nTucked into its luminous \ngunbelt\, a change of luck\, \nan abrupt windfall tunes up\, \njust for us. Soon\, \ninstead of zinging bullets \nwe’ll find ourselves drenched \nin concertos. I have no \nauthority to comfort \nyou\, though I try. \nIf all this is to vanish\, \nIf you and I are lost\, \nset loose\, wounded\, \nto wander among uncomplaining \ntrees\, fingering their lightly \nhaired\, sticky little leaves\, \nthen hand me my camera. \nI must take pictures. \n  \n–Amy Gerstler \n* \nThe Shirt \n  \nThe shirt touches his neck \nand smooths over his back. \nIt slides down his sides. \nIt even goes down below his belt— \ndown into his pants. \nLucky shirt. \n  \n—Jane Kenyon \n* \nKen read a section of a poem by Bertolt Brecht. \n* \nKatie sent these poems: \n  \nCome to the orchard in Spring. \nThere is light and wine\, and sweethearts \nin the pomegranate flowers. \n  \nIf you do not come\, these do not matter. \nIf you do come\, these do not matter. \n  \n–Rumi \n* \n  \ni carry your heart with me(i carry it in \nmy heart)i am never without it(anywhere \ni go you go\,my dear;and whatever is done \nby only me is your doing\,my darling) \n                                                      i fear \nno fate(for you are my fate\,my sweet)i want \nno world(for beautiful you are my world\,my true) \nand it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant \nand whatever a sun will always sing is you \nhere is the deepest secret nobody knows \n(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud \nand the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows \nhigher than soul can hope or mind can hide) \nand this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart \ni carry your heart(i carry it in my heart) \n  \n—e. e. cummings \n* \nI Loved You Before I Was Born \nI loved you before I was born.\nIt doesn’t make sense\, I know.  \nI saw your eyes before I had eyes to see.\nAnd I’ve lived longing \nfor your ever look ever since.\nThat longing entered time as this body.  \nAnd the longing grew as this body waxed.\nAnd the longing grows as the body wanes.\nThe longing will outlive this body.  \nI loved you before I was born.\nIt doesn’t make sense\, I know.  \nLong before eternity\, I caught a glimpse\nof your neck and shoulders\, your ankles and toes.\nAnd I’ve been lonely for you from that instant.\nThat loneliness appeared on earth as this body. \nAnd my share of time has been nothing \nbut your name outrunning my ever saying it clearly. \nYour face fleeing my ever\nkissing it firmly once on the mouth.  \nIn longing\, I am most myself\, rapt\,\nmy lamp mortal\, my light \nhidden and singing.   \nI give you my blank heart.\nPlease write on it\nwhat you wish.   \n  \n–Li-Young Lee \n* \n  \nWhat We’re Doing Here \n\nThis is why we are here—\nnot merely to survive\nbut to fall in love\nwith the white-breasted hawk\nand the rainbow fish\,\nwith the lonely sidewalk\nand the shadows of ourselves\,\nfall in love with the hands\nof the woman wearing yellow\nand the girl who loves chocolate\nand the boy who loves cars\nand the man who makes us want to be\na better version of ourself.\n \nWe are here to fall into unmanageable love—\nto love beyond reason\, beyond\nfact\, beyond certainty. We are here\nto lose all our ideas about love\nand know it as the next choice\nwe make\, the next word\nwe say\, the next invitation\nwe offer ourselves.\n \nWe are here to love\nthe world and each other\nthe way whales love water\,\nthe way blue loves a peacock\,\nthe way night blooming jasmine\nloves night.\n\n—Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer\n*\n\nI read “The Sun Rising” and the last part of “To His Mistress Going to Bed” by John Donne. And “We Two\, How Long We Were Fool’d” by Walt Whitman. And this gem from William Blake:\n\n\nLove to faults is always blind\, \nAlways is to joy inclin’d\, \nLawless\, wing’d & unconfin’d\, \nAnd breaks all chains from every mind. \n  \n—William Blake \n* \nAnd my own poem\, “wake up\, heart!”: \n\n  \nwake up\, heart! \n  \nwake up\, heart! \nwake up and love everyone and every thing \nlove the unlovable \nthe unhappy old men who start the wars \nthe geniuses who collapse the economy \nthe heads of the big corporations who ruin the earth \nthey need love\, too \nwhy else would they do stuff like that? \n  \nwe all want to love and be loved \nwe all need to love and be loved \nlove everything that moves \nand everything that won’t budge \nlove the person who is reading or listening to this poem \n  \nyou might start with the easy ones \npassing dogs \nlaughing children \nfluffy white clouds \nall the spring flowers shouting “love me!” \npractice on the easy ones \nuntil you get so good at it that you accidentally love the weird and scary homeless people\,  \nthe criminals\,  \nthe people whose views differ from yours \n—before you have time to think about it \n  \nheart\, you were born for love \nmr. brain sometimes tells you not to \n“don’t love that one\,” he says\, “that one doesn’t deserve it” \n“don’t be a fool” \nforgive mr. brain \nhe can’t help it \nhe’s always making distinctions between this and that \nhe needs a hug \n  \nyou know better \nyou know that the thing to do is just to love \nto wake up and love without limit \n  \n–Johnny Stallings \n  \nAt the end I talked a bit about Romeo and Juliet. When they first meet\, these two amazing young lovers spontaneously compose a sonnet–a sure sign that they are well-matched: \n  \nROMEO \nIf I profane with my unworthiest hand \nThis holy shrine\, the gentle sin is this: \nMy lips\, two blushing pilgrims\, ready stand \nTo smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. \nJULIET \nGood pilgrim\, you do wrong your hand too much\, \nWhich mannerly devotion shows in this; \nFor saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch\, \nAnd palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss. \nROMEO \nHave not saints lips\, and holy palmers too? \nJULIET \nAy\, pilgrim\, lips that they must use in prayer. \nROMEO \nO then\, dear saint\, let lips do what hands do– \nThey pray; grant thou\, lest faith turn to despair. \nJULIET \nSaints do not move\, though grant for prayers’ sake. \nROMEO \nThen move not while my prayer’s effect I take. \n[He kisses her.] \nThus from my lips\, by thine\, my sin is purged. \nJULIET \nThen have my lips the sin that they have took. \nROMEO \nSin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! \nGive me my sin again. \n[She kisses him.] \nJULIET \n                                            You kiss by th’ book. \n  \nAnd…Juliet’s love is absolute: \n  \nJULIET \nMy bounty is as boundless as the sea\, \nMy love as deep. The more I give to thee\, \nThe more I have for both are infinite. \n  \n–William Shakespeare \n\nWell\, that’s it for now. \n  \nMay we live in love. \nJohnny \n 
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/bibliophiles-unanimous-valentines-day-special-love-poems/
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