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DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20210429
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SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  4/29/21
DESCRIPTION:THE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nApril 29\, 2021 \n  \nBIBLIOMANIA \n  \nI like to think of myself as a bibliophile\, but the correct term would probably be “bibliomaniac.” There is definitely something nutty about my relationship with books. Here’s an example: \n  \nOne day I had selected a stack of about eight books to check out from the downtown branch of the Multnomah County Library. I brought them to the front desk. The librarian began checking them out. About halfway through the pile she said: “I’m gonna have to cut you off here. This doesn’t happen very often. You aren’t allowed to have more than 500 books checked out at a time.” \n  \nSee what I mean. \n  \nI love books. I console myself with the thought that there are worse things to be addicted to. Probably meth would be worse\, in the long run. \n  \nAs a lad\, I hated school. It impinged upon my freedom to go wherever I felt like going and do whatever I felt like doing. Halfway through my Freshman year in college\, it dawned on me that going to school was optional. I walked away. I still sometimes have dreams where I walk out of school and get the most wonderful feeling! \n  \nOnce I left school\, I started reading like a madman. I could read anything I wanted to! It was thrilling! I carried a backpack with me wherever I went\, with at least five or six books in it. I had to have a lot of books to choose from\, because I didn’t know in advance which book I would be in the mood to read once I sat down in the coffee shop. I carried a bag of books with me for many years before I noticed that most people were walking around without any books! That seemed strange to me. It still does.  \n  \nLike\, what if someone found themself somewhere with nothing to read? What would they do? Fortunately\, I’ve never had that experience. \n  \nI start the day sitting on the couch. Then I begin building my nest. By ten o’clock I am surrounded by piles of books. Ask Nancy. \n  \nInstead of going for a long walk\, I’m much more likely to reserve a book from the library with a title like: 50 Best Oregon Hiking Trails.  \n  \nI consider my books to be my friends. And many of the authors\, likewise. I feel very fortunate to have Walt Whitman and William Shakespeare as companions on my life journey. And it’s lovely to make new friends. Wikipedia says that Thomas Traherne died in 1674\, but that doesn’t bother me in the slightest. We just recently became close. \n  \nAs I get older I read less and less\, and slower and slower\, but I still need to have a lot of books nearby—maybe the way some people enjoy having their golden lab sleeping next to them. When I come home\, all my books wag their tails. The shelves are crowded with worlds waiting to be explored. \n  \nThere are so many books! Way too many to read in a single lifetime! (Maybe I’ll have to come back again and again\, and get a new library card every time.) Of the books I have read\, I can’t remember much. Nevertheless\, some books changed the way I see and experience the world. I guess one of my ambitions is to live a life rich in meaning. Books have helped me with that. \n  \nI read slowly. Sometimes a few words are enough to satisfy me. I put the book back on the pile\, happy as a clam at high tide. \n  \nI’ve always dreamed of writing a book. I’ve gotten so much pleasure from reading books\, I’d like to give that same pleasure to others. But I don’t know what to say. Or how to say it. I’ve kept a journal for fifty years. I write letters. I’ve written a few poems and stories\, theater pieces and essays. I guess I’m writing this little essay\, or whatever it is. If I do ever manage to get something I’ve written published between the covers of a book\, it will probably consist of short things. I don’t seem to have the attention span or the work ethic to write something long. \n  \nWhen I was young\, I just assumed I’d effortlessly write a great book someday. Perhaps the “effortlessly” is the clue to why it never happened. Who knows? I may still write a book and get it published. I’m not dead yet. \n  \nHere are a few of the books I’ve enjoyed most: \n  \nI put a picture of Autobiography of a Yogi on the first page. I read that book when I was 19 and it opened up a world that I didn’t know existed—the world of the Indian yogi. It turned out that that world was quite congenial to me. In my twenties\, I lived for a couple years in India with yogis. For yogis\, silence—inner stillness—is important. For me\, too. \n  \nThree of my favorite short stories are: “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens\, “Dream of a Ridiculous Man” by Fyodor Dostoevsky\, and “Tenth of December” by George Saunders. (Jason Beito recommended the latter story to me.) The words “human” and “humane” are related. It feels like certain works of fiction subtly enlarge our humanity\, make us more human—more kind. Maybe all of Charles Dickens’ works do this. One thing the world could use a lot more of is kindness. These stories can help us with that. \n  \nI’m re-reading Huckleberry Finn (again). The older I get\, the better it gets. I’m not alone in rating it the greatest American novel. It would be hard to find a more entertaining story\, or a more keen-eyed observer of human foibles than Huck. \n  \nLast Sunday\, we celebrated William Shakespeare’s 457th birthday on Zoom with friends from all over the place—Curt Tofteland and Ashley Lucas from Michigan\, Howard Thoresen from New York\, Stratis Panourios from Athens\, Alan Benditt from Seattle\, Todd Oleson from Walla Walla\, Keith Scales from Eureka Springs\, Arkansas\, Aaron Gilbert from Roseburg\, Allen Mills from Newberg\, and a number of friends from Portland. Since a lot of us have had experience acting\, directing and going to see Shakespeare plays in prison\, that’s mostly what we talked about. \n  \nWhat makes William Shakespeare so important to me has to do with the fact that he didn’t write novels—he wrote plays. And you can do the plays! Putting on his plays is an even greater pleasure than reading them. You learn the words! You play the parts! You rehearse the scenes over and over. Finally\, you perform the plays for your friends! In his day\, actors were called “players.” Kids need to play\, but grownups do too. There is no one more fun to play with than Will. And no better place to play the plays than in prison. \n  \nAnother book I’m re-reading (again) is Shakespeare and the Goddess of Complete Being by Ted Hughes. It’s my favorite book about Shakespeare. Ted Hughes is a poet; with great intuition and sympathy he explores the personal\, historical and mythological dimensions of Shakespeare’s plays and poems. I had always wondered about Shakespeare’s inner life—who was he? Ted Hughes goes where a vast army of Shakespeare scholars have never dreamed of going. For me\, reading the book is thrilling—which is kind of weird for a book of literary criticism\, if that’s what it is. Okay\, that’s not what it is. But what is it? I don’t know. It doesn’t fit into any categories. It’s not like any other book. When I get to the end\, I’ll start again at the beginning. \n  \nOver the years\, in trying to better understand the meaning of my human life on Earth—(what’s going on here?)—I’ve continued to study what might be called “the wisdom of the East.” Joseph Campbell is one of my favorite guides. If this is a subject that interests you\, I would highly recommend the book Talks With Ramana Maharshi\, and the writings of R. H. Blyth\, J. Krishnamurti\, Shunryu Suzuki\, Thich Nhat Hanh\, Alan Watts\, Lao Tzu\, Seng Ts’an and Han Shan. \n  \nI’ve probably read more nonfiction than fiction. With nonfiction I can learn things I didn’t know\, and even change my inner landscape. I thought this essay would be about how books have shaped the way I see and experience the world\, but my mind meandered off in other directions. Maybe I’ll write that essay another day. \n  \nFor a bibliomaniac like me\, the subject of books has no beginning or end. Like the great globe itself\, the world of books is vast beyond our ability to know it. \n  \nA poem that changed my life and has enriched it endlessly is “Song of Myself\,” by Walt Whitman. It’s good to read and re-read it aloud\, as often as possible. If when you read it\, you mean what you say and feel it\, it will do something big to you. \n  \nIf I could take only one book to the proverbial desert island\, I’d take The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. A most rare vision! It hath no bottom. \n  \n  \nWe’re off to Mexico next week! Back in a month. \nOur revels now are ended. These our actors\, \nAs I foretold you\, were all spirits and \nAre melted into air\, into thin air: \nAnd\, like the baseless fabric of this vision\, \nThe cloud-capp’d towers\, the gorgeous palaces\, \nThe solemn temples\, the great globe itself\, \nYea\, all which it inherit\, shall dissolve \nAnd\, like this insubstantial pageant faded\, \nLeave not a rack behind. We are such stuff \nAs dreams are made on\, and our little life \nIs rounded with a sleep.   \n                      \n—William Shakespeare\, Prospero from The Tempest\, Act 4\, scene 1 \n  \n  \npeace & love \nJohnny
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-4-29-21/
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DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20210515
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20210615
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SUMMARY:Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue  5/15/21
DESCRIPTION:  \nThis picture is based on Verse 18 from “A Hundred Verses of Self-Instruction” by the South Indian master of mindfulness meditation\, Narayana Guru: \n  \nThe “I” is not dark; if it were dark we would be in a state of blindness\, \nunable to know even “I\,I”; \nas we do know\, the “I” is not darkness; \nthus\, for making this known\, this should be told to anyone. \n  \nThe author is inviting us once again to recognize a simple truth: there is a continuous background awareness operating in us that watches our actions\, the arising of our mental states\, our dreaming and even our breathing in a timeless unbroken flow of attention. It simply exists\, prior to any more definite notions we could have about our personal identity\, our names\, our age\, our sex and so on. \n  \nThis pure awareness can’t see itself directly\, but that doesn’t mean it’s dark or absent. We know it’s there\, because it illuminates the objects of our inner and outer experience. \n  \nBecause it’s absolutely featureless\, and because we all share it\, we could say\, in a sense\, that we are one Being. And although everyone calls their inner awareness “I”\, this is an “I” that is actually shared by all. \n  \nOur mental states are cycling in constant flux\, sometimes light and sometimes very dark indeed. So here the author is offering a kindly reminder: our moments of deepest confusion can be known\, as such\, only by virtue of that light in us that watches. \n  \n–Andy Larkin \n  \nOpen Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue \n  \n May 15\, 2021 \n  \nKatie Radditz is editing this month’s Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue\, while Nancy and I are in Mexico. (JS) \n  \nHello dear friends\, \n  \n Last week\, I went to Walla Walla to help take care of my grand kids while their parents worked there for a few days. It was joyful and freeing to be out after covid vaccines\, no masks necessary in the outdoors. The bare hills and the towering rock walls with giant wind mills are a huge contrast to our home landscape in Portland in the cedar trees and lush spring greens and reds of rhododendrons\, yellow tulips\, orange poppies.  I hadn’t been on I-84 going East for more than a year.  The last time was visiting at Two Rivers. On our return we came past the prison.  And I was filled with the feeling of being home and homesick at the same time. It was hard not to be able to come inside.  So we stopped\, went down to the river and I meditated with you\, just breathing the same air. Being at ease.  And I pictured the banner that hangs in the trees at Plum Village when one arrives on retreat.  It blows gently in the breeze with Thay’s calligraphy that says\, “You have arrived. You are home.”  It was a wonderful moment of being home.  We are always arriving\, right here\, right now.  This was most refreshing\, and I felt grateful for having been welcomed there always\, in that magical\, loving dialogue group.    \n  \n—  Katie R \n  \nHere is a poem by Deb that reminds us of all the life going on beneath our feet while above our minds can be spinning  –  \n  \nWhite Orchid \n  \nWaxy petals unfurl slowly against the tropical earth pale insects burrow in drawn by fragrance escaping molecule by molecule through soft loam surrounding the tendril of whitened stem piercing soil branching off a flower then another creeping underground this life unseen unheeded above ground our life drawing sustenance from the dark explosion    \n  \n—   Deborah Buchanan \n  \nFirst Light Meditation this morning May 16 –  \n  \nYou pedal furiously \ninto a future you’re trying \nhard to prolong \nby this exercise\, \nthough the landscape \nthat rolls by here is time \npassing\, with its lists \nof things undone \nor not done properly\, \nand all this effort\, \nthe fierce monotony \nof this ride feels \nmuch like life itself — \ngoing nowhere \nstrenuously… your legs \nbeginning to throb\, as if \nthe body communicates \nin a code of pain\, saying \nnever mind the future\, \nyou’re here \nright now\, alive. \n  \n–Linda Pastan \n  \nTwo entries from Michel’s journal: \n  \nApril 29\, 2021 #111 Taking Care of the Future \n  \nThe Future is being made out of the present\, so the best way to take care of the future is to take care of the present moment. This is logical and clear. Spending a lot of time speculating and worrying about the future is totally useless. We can only take care of our future by taking care of the present moment\, because the future is made out of only one substance: the present. Only if you are anchored in the present can you prepare well for the future.  (Thich Nhat Hanh\, from Your True Home) \n  \nMichel writes about how to deal with his father’s coming death –  \n  \nIt becomes a matter of focus:  Do I dwell on the inevitable loss? Or\, do I focus my attention and energy on the now\, striving to be fully present to any of life’s moments\, making the most out of each one? The result of the second has some happiness for now and later; the former is only anguish and suffering.  \n  \nMay 2\, 2021  Michel sends this Buddhist story to ponder and respond to from your own life experience  –   \n  \nIt is from a Zen teacher who begins\,   “We might say that Zen practice is about directly experiencing the most satisfying kind of aliveness. The path of practice is about how we may go about realizing this possibility in our everyday lives\, regardless of the circumstances\, whether they’re comfortable or whether they’re challenging circumstances.”  \n  \nThere’s a story about a fisherman in a remote village in ancient China. As was the custom with people in the village\, each day they would go to the mountain stream that ran through the main part of the village and they would fish for their dinner. One day this fisherman showed up using a straight hook\, rather than using a curved hook with a barb. He began fishing next to his neighbors\, and they all started to make fun of him. They said\, “What are you going to do with that? Why are you trying to fish with a straight hook?” And he said\, “You may catch an ordinary fish with your curved hook with a barb on it. But one day I may catch an extraordinary fish with my straight hook.” And it’s said that he continued to fish in this way for 40 years. News of this unusual fisherman and his way of fishing spread throughout all of China\, even to the Imperial Court. The Emperor was very interested to see\, “What is this all about? What is this person doing? What’s this straight-hook fishing?” So he gathered together an entourage. They traveled up to the remote mountain village. Of course\, he arrived to see this now old man with his line fishing with a straight hook\, and he said\, “Old Man\, whatever were you hoping to catch with this straight hook?” And he replied\, “I was hoping to catch you\, dear Emperor.”  \n  \nThe teacher comments  –   So\, here we are together\, separated by time and distance but engaged as a learning community. Sitting quietly\, each of us on our own and all of us together\, putting our hook in this water. What are we hoping to catch? Maybe some piece of understanding\, clarity or insight. Maybe relief from some difficulty or challenge we’re facing. Maybe some way that we can help somebody who we care about deeply; who’s having some difficulty. We don’t know what to do. Maybe we’ll find some way we can really be of help and support. Maybe we don’t know why we’re casting our line into this water of meditation. Maybe it doesn’t matter to us at all. And we can’t know. I mean\, this is a story\, so we can’t know what the intention really of this old man fishing in this unusual way was. Could he ever have imagined that he’d catch an emperor at the end of his straight hook? But there’s the possibility in this slippery kind of situation\, where we’re numbed leading into the moment with what we know\, with what we understand\, with what we think works\, with what makes sense to us. We’re entering a moment in a wider way\, wider margins on how we’re approaching this feeling of directly experiencing the most satisfying kind of aliveness. And it marks a shift. It’s a shift from relying on our habits\, on our past\, or thinking what we know; our associations. Enter in the present situation in our experiencing of it\, not just for ideas about it. So the possibility of practice is not just to know ourselves as the idea we have of ourselves\, but to know ourselves directly\, which is much wider than those ideas. . . We could be open to possibilities much wider than what we can imagine. The possibility of fishing without a specific sense of what it is that we’re going to gain\, what the outcome is going to be.  \n  \n–Paul Rosenblum Roshi  \n  \nA few excerpts from Michel’s comments –  \n  \nI’ll allow everyone to develop each one’s meaning to this story\, so you can catch your own fish.  I just found the idea interesting as a launching point for his talk\, “this feeling of directly experiencing the most satisfying kind of aliveness. And it marks a shift from relying on our habits\, on our past or thinking what we know\, our associations.”   \n  \n(Michel continues): How do I fish with a straight hook\, unconcerned/unattached to a specific outcome to my actions?  \n  \nThe Roshi went on to share about Suzuki Roshi and how he would interact with the world: receiving\, using both hands\, drawing the “gift” into himself–and giving\, in the same way from his center with both hands. Suzuki’s whole being was involved. This reminds me of how Johnny sees us (or how his perspective was first described to me) as our 3-5 year old selves – innocent\, vulnerable\, etc.  Think back\, before you learned to be selfish\, to protect a separate “self\,” to a time when we engaged in each moment with both hands and total focus on that moment. Think of receiving a full glass of milk to carry to the table\, how we might use both hands to not drop\, and totally focus to not spill\, as we walked to our destination.  \n  \nWhat might life be like if/when we re-discover this engagement\, attention and focus? How would we treat others as well as ourself? Would it be engaged\, attentive\, focused? Would others feel loved\, or our compassion as we offer a hand up from a fall?  What would the world look like when we all learn to enter now with no thought of past or not holding anything back for any possible future but putting all of “self” into now\,  fishing with a straight hook? \n  \nHow often and how easy it is to get caught up in a narrative where I only use a part of my self (one-handed\, not two) and look more toward what I can get instead of giving and extending my whole self.  It’s that fishing hook story again. Is my hook for just an ordinary\, everday fish? Or am I fishing for an Emperor\, something unique and unexpected? \n  \n–Michel Deforge \n  \n# 241 What are you Doing?     \n  \nOne day as I walked through the kitchen\, I saw someone cleaning vegetables and I asked\, ‘What are you doing?’  I was playing the role of a spiritual friend.  Even though it was obvious that they were washing vegetables\, I asked the question to wake the person up to how happy they could be\, just washing the vegetables.  If we aren’t doing something with joy\, that moment is wasted.  (Thich Nhat Hanh\, from Your True Home) \n  \nI haven’t an inkling of a clue\, if honesty permits me to be so brazen. Though I have pondered this question many times.  \n  \nElusive conclusions leave me in a turnstile\, spinning in circles\, never out\, never in.  \n  \n…I was chasing down the past and looking for the future\, but crystal balls cast upside down reflections. \n  \nI think the question shouldn’t be what am I doing but rather\, what will I be doing in the now? A question for every passing second\, before it passes.   \n       \nParting Glass \n  \nMy life is a glass \nThat’s been filled many times \nIt’s been put through the wash \nDropped on the floor \nAnd is now a chipped trinket \nOn a shelf by the door \nBut soon\, very soon\, the glass will not matter \nFor its structure will weaken and eventually shatter \nThen it will sparkle bright in the Sun \nThen\, only then\, my life will be done. \n  \n–Joshua Barnes\, 2021 \n  \nWhat are you doing?  It makes me think of my friend Ron raking leaves.  Every year he would complain in the Fall when the thousands of leaves fell from his giant maple tree.  The time he needed to spend raking them up and putting into compost bags. I started to find one red and gold leaf with a tinge of green left at the center and put it on his windshield or into his book for a book mark.  One day\, he woke up and realized how easy and happy he could feel if he just enjoyed the fleeting moments of getting to rake these individually unique and beautiful leaves that had given him shade all summer.  He started working with gratitude and joy\, paying attention\, and it became a meditation he almost looked forward to.   (kr) \n  \nHere are two poems that reflect on some of the submissions above. (kr) \n  \nThree Times My Life has Opened \n  \nThree times my life has opened.\nOnce\, into darkness and rain.\nOnce\, into what the body carries at all times within it and starts\n          to remember each time it enters the act of love.\nOnce\, to the fire that holds all.\nThese three were not different.\nYou will recognize what I am saying or you will not.\nBut outside my window all day a maple has stepped from her\n          leaves like a woman in love with winter\, dropping the\n          colored silks.\nNeither are we different in what we know.\nThere is a door. It opens. Then it is closed. But a slip of light stays\,\n          like a scrap of unreadable paper left on the floor\, or the one\n          red leaf the snow releases in March. \n  \n– Jane Hirshfield\, from The Lives of the Heart: Poems \n  \n  \nThe Song of Wandering Aengus\n  \nI went out to the hazel wood\, \nBecause a fire was in my head\, \nAnd cut and peeled a hazel wand\, \nAnd hooked a berry to a thread; \nAnd when white moths were on the wing\, \nAnd moth-like stars were flickering out\, \nI dropped the berry in a stream \nAnd caught a little silver trout. \n  \nWhen I had laid it on the floor \nI went to blow the fire a-flame\, \nBut something rustled on the floor\, \nAnd someone called me by my name: \nIt had become a glimmering girl \nWith apple blossom in her hair \nWho called me by my name and ran \nAnd faded through the brightening air. \n  \nThough I am old with wandering \nThrough hollow lands and hilly lands\, \nI will find out where she has gone\, \nAnd kiss her lips and take her hands; \nAnd walk among long dappled grass\, \nAnd pluck till time and times are done\, \nThe silver apples of the moon\, \nThe golden apples of the sun. \n  \n–William Butler Yeats \n  \nA note of gratitude from Abe Green\, \n  \nFriends\,  \n  \nThank you so much for having me on your mailing list. I am honored. \n  \nEach week\, no matter my emotional or spiritual condition\, I am inspired by the wisdom and love enclosed.  I somehow become fuller with each reading . . . a miracle!  \n  \nPeace and Love\,  \nAbe \n                     \n  \n Treadmill \n(written this morning for you by Kim Stafford) \n  \nDo you ever have the feeling you’re plodding  \nin place\, trying to climb the down escalator\, \ntreading water as time’s river slides away? \n  \nDay after day you faithfully attend to life’s  \nadministration\, to mere maintenance\, as your \nbutterflies of aspiration flit from sight. \n  \nYour old dream is real— your shoes are made  \nof stone\, each step a struggle as you stagger across  \nlevel ground\, too young to be a codger\, and yet…. \n  \nWhat if you look up when wind shakes the trees\, \nthe pine sheds a pollen cloud\, the maple shakes  \nher skirt inviting you to dance? \n  \n–Kim Stafford \n  \n#357: The Simple Act of Walking \n  \nWalking is as simple as putting one foot in front of the other. But we often find it difficult or tedious. We drive a few blocks rather than walk in order to “save time.” When we understand the interconnectedness of our body and our mind\, the simple act of walking like the Buddha can feel supremely easy and pleasurable.  (Thich Nhat Hanh\, from Your True Home) \n  \nLet’s start with that first sentence: “Walking is as simple as putting one foot in front of the other.” I said I was not going to dwell on my foot surgery any longer\, but this short passage just spoke to me with force. \n  \nThis ‘recovery’ from a supposedly minor operation is taking much longer\, with a few more uncertain results possible\, than I was led to expect. Complications\, infection\, antibiotics\, more doctor appointments and different approaches have been accompanied by a range of emotions on my part. Eager anticipation\, determination\, trust\, puzzlement\, frustration\, doubt\, fear\, elation\, discouragement\, encouragement—you name it\, I’ve felt it. Acceptance hasn’t yet set in… \n  \nSo since February 25\, “walking is as simple as putting one foot in front of the other” has been a dream—and a mockery. I dream of the moment I can get my swollen foot into a shoe and then put one foot in front of the other\, but the result is that I treasure the thought of that simple act. Is that what it takes to treasure life? Why is it that we have such difficulty appreciating these present moments\, these simple acts\, and just hurry through them to get to the ‘next thing?’ \n  \nThe gift in all of this is that I have slowed down\, learned deep appreciation for the simple act of walking (and plenty of other things)\, learned thoughtfulness\, awareness and appreciation\, and come to cherish the interconnectedness of my mind and body\, which this situation has certainly amplified. \n  \nThay likes to invite people to smile and appreciate a non-toothache. A simple practice.  Thank you for reminding us. \n  \n–Jude Russell \n  \nI want to include something from Alex Tretbar that I meant to include in an earlier issue\, but lost track of. Here it is!: (JS) \n  \n…I thought I’d pick your brain on the thorny subject of “desire.” I just finished Balzac’s The Wild Ass’s Skin—(La Peau de chagrin” is the original title\, “chagrin” being both “sorrow” and “a kind of grained leather\, ordinarily made of the skin of a mule or an ass”)—in which\, (pardon the summary\, if you’ve read it before)\, a man\, fallen on hard times\, finds in a novelty shop a piece of “chagrin” that will grant him any wish\, but each wish causes the skin to shrink. Once it shrinks to a certain small size\, the owner dies. He eventually discovers that unspoken wishes\, desires merely thought of\, also shrink the skin\, so he’s driven into solitude & reclusion to avoid shrinking it further by accident. At one point\, he tries to enlist a scientist’s help in stretching the skin to prolong his life\, (this fails)\, but the scientist says this: “Everything is motion. Thought is motion. Nature is based upon motion. Death is a form of motion whose end is imperfectly understood.” \n  \nThinking on it\, it does seem that any desire\, at its core\, is aimed at a particular arrangement of time & space. You want things to change in just such a way\, and then you want them to stay that way. This flies in the face of the never-ending motion that is nature & the universe. Resistance to change is a root of much suffering. So\, where & how does “desire” figure in Buddhist (or just “mindful”) thought? Can desire ever be healthy? \n  \nOr is it\, by nature\, essentially like trying to sweep back the tide with a broom? \n  \nLooking forward to reading your thoughts on this! \n  \n—Alex Tretbar \n  \nRather than sharing in this Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue what I wrote to Alex\, I’d like to invite all of you readers to engage his insights and questions for yourselves. There are some great writing prompts! You could also start a conversation with a friend by reading what he wrote and using it as a jumping-off place for dialogue. I’ve kept a journal for fifty years. In it\, I like to explore these kinds of ideas and questions. If you don’t keep a journal\, you might try doing it as a way to inquire into questions like these\, to better understand yourself and the world. \n  \nMy contribution for the Merry Month of May is the quote from e. e. cummings: \n  \nI’d rather learn from one bird how to sing \nthan teach ten thousand stars how not to dance \n  \n—Johnny Stallings \n  \nMetta Meditation  –    \n  \nMay I be healed.  May I be a source of healing for all beings. \nMay you be healed. May you be a source of healing for all beings. \nMay we be healed. May we be a source of healing for all beings.  \n  \nFarewell. Walk in peace\, be in love\,   \n  \n–Katie \n  \n*
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/meditation-mindfulness-dialogue-5-15-21/
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DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20210516
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20210530
DTSTAMP:20260428T132653
CREATED:20210329T010236Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20210518T174835Z
UID:1954-1621123200-1622332799@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:Bibliophiles Unanimous!: ALL THINGS GREEK  5/16/21
DESCRIPTION:Dionysus \n  \n\n  \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nStratis Panourios was our Hierophant \n  \n  \nThe Ethiops say that their gods are flat-nosed and black\, while the Thracians say that theirs have blue eyes and red hair. Yet if cattle or horses or lions had hands and could draw\, and could sculpt like men\, then the horses would draw their gods like horses\, and cattle like cattle; each would shape bodies of gods in the likeness of their own. \n  \n\n\n\n\n–Xenophanes (died: 475 B.C.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n  \nOn Sunday\, May 16\, Stratis Panourios was our Special Guest. He is fluent it English\, but his friend Lena translated for him so that he could give the clearest expression to his thoughts. He talked about a production of Aeschylus’ play The Persians which he is directing at a prison in Athens. He emphasized the character of Xerxes\, who returns to Persia after leading the Persian army to a terrible defeat by the Greeks. Stratis said that men coming out of prison face a difficulty analogous to that of Xerxes\, and that when he talked with them about it\, he was very moved by their stories. \nWe had a lively Zoom gathering\, which included Keith Scales\, Curt Tofteland\, Kim Stafford\, Gail Lester\, Martha Ragland\, Todd Oleson\, Demetra Ariston\, Brent Gregston and Katie Radditz. \nIf you’d like to watch a video recording of the conversation\, let me know\, and I’ll email it to you. \nειρήνη &  αγάπη \nJohnny \n  \n  \n 
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/bibliophiles-unanimous-all-things-greek-4-11-21/
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