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SUMMARY:Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue  10/15/21
DESCRIPTION:  \nOpen Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue \n  \n  October 15\, 2021 \n  \nMeditation is Not Solemn #291 \n  \n“Meditation is to be aware of what is going on—- in our body\, in our feelings\, in our mind\, and in the world. Each day\, nine thousand children die of hunger. The superpowers have more than enough nuclear warheads to destroy our planet many times. Yet the sunrise is beautiful\, and the rose that bloomed this morning along the wall is a miracle. Life is both dreadful and wonderful. To practice meditation is to be in touch with both aspects. Please do not think we must be solemn in order to meditate. In fact\, to meditate well\, we have to smile a lot.” –Thich Nhat Hanh\, from Your True Home \n  \nAnd life is not solemn—-at least not all the time. Admittedly\, I spend a fair amount of time worrying about the world—pandemic\, the Taliban\, voter suppression\, Texas\, climate\, wildfire smoke…the neighbors’ barking dogs… \n  \nBut invariably I get caught\, snagged\, by beauty: \n  \nMy dog’s little fur body\, impossibly soft and sweet-smelling. \nThe bouquet of sweet peas\, smelling like my dear grandmother’s garden. \nThe moon gleaming in the black sky. \nErik Satie’s\, Gymnopédie floating up from downstairs. \nGarden tomatoes and golden raspberries heavy on their vines\, red and gold. \n  \nAnd that’s all within a 100’ radius! And all right now\, at this moment! Just think of what’s to come—fall leaves! snow on the mountain! pumpkin pie! \n  \nBeauty must trump pain\, mustn’t it? I believe so. In meditation some of all these aspects of life\, good and bad\, float in and out\, up and down. Just let them be. But beauty rises to the top. \n  \n—Jude Russell  (September 15) \n* \n  \n(Here are some excerpts from Michel’s meditation journal. The numbers refer to meditations from Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh.) \n  \nSeptember 2\, 2021  #171 PRECIOUS GIFTS \n  \nBeing fully present: there was nothing I wanted more\, as a child\, from my father\, but it wasn’t until I became an adult that I learned the language to identify my need. Now\, I’m confined in a box and I always wonder: when will I lose him? I’m scheduled to be released when he is 102⅔…. \n  \nI can do something for myself now—breathe\, and learn to do what he didn’t know then….I can continue to practice the gift of being fully present whenever I get time with others: parents by phone\, or friends in person. \n  \nIt’s odd that as humans we forget how much we value and cherish someone until they are nearly gone. A rare exception\, which I would not advise anyone to pursue\, is the “near-death experience.” Yet\, it is after these moments of being shook awake from our casual stupor in life that\, for many of us\, we finally begin to give our full attention—at least for a while. \n  \nYet\, all it requires of us to give “precious gifts” is to breathe on purpose\, mindfully aware of each passing moment while we are in it. There’s nothing more to do. There’s nothing complicated about breathing. It can help one to practice this skill\, the mindful part at least\, so when the “important” moments do arrive I can be present and aware. They’re all important when we pay attention to them. I just hope that paying attention can help recall the sensation of a past moment with my dad\, mother\, uncle\, or dear friends—when all are gone from my now. It can be nice to visit a moment or two\, before the mind goes. \n  \n(I’m including the next meditation Michel talks about\, because it’s short and sweet.) \n  \n# 175  Let Your Heart Bloom \n  \nIn the Springtime\, thousands of different kinds of flowers bloom. Your heart can also bloom. You can let your heart open up to the world. Love is possible—do not be afraid of it. Love is indispensable to life\, and if in the past you have suffered because of love\, you can learn how to love again.     —Thich Nhat Hanh \n  \nSeptember 22\, 2021  #175 LET YOUR HEART BLOOM \n  \nThis is a challenging proposition in this setting—not impossible\, just a challenge. So maybe the challenge becomes cultivating a safe haven—a garden of sorts. It is still many weeks away—seemingly an eternity—but\, eventually\, the few of us still remaining from Theatre and Dialogue groups will be allowed to assemble once again as a community of friends I rarely\, if ever\, see as I go about my cyclical movements. Once in a while I do see an old friend; we greet and pass along\, as required. It’s pleasing to have those moments. I doubt things are any easier in the “free world.” So\, until we can once again convene in our little haven at TRCI together\, we’ll need to be “open”—letting our hearts bloom where we are—so when we do meet an old friend\, or gather as a group\, we can be ready with a heart open to the possibility of love\, when ever and where ever it may happen upon us. I think I like this idea: being ready for life wherever it may happen.  \n  \nSeptember 30\, 2021  #176 TRAINING FOR HAPPINESS \n  \nThis sounds like a fun training! Happiness is something I’ve learned\, slowly\, to be (mostly) a choice. At first the struggle was to identify when I was happy. It was a tough time for me and this seems to be over-simplified. Another truth about happiness I learned: it’s not dependent on anything or anyone outside of me. Happiness\, (like love)\, when dependent on external causes will cease when the causes evaporate—they always do….I’ve also learned that a happy-sad balance exists along a continuum; also\, that without other “negative” (so-called) emotions the enjoyment of happiness is less\, because of lack of contrast. \n  \n(You may also find value at PositivePsychology.com. It is relevant and related. (M.D.)) \n  \nOnce again\, I suspect\, this training brings me back to recall that I will be of more constant states when I resume deliberate\, daily breathing practices—meditation…. Happiness\, as a practice\, is going to require some practice from me\, if for no other reason than that I will know I’m happy when it happens! This sounds really silly to my mind’s ear\, but I think the breathing practice and\, possibly\, a focus on things I am happy about or happy to see and do. Maybe others have ideas for how to “TRAIN FOR HAPPINESS.” It could be a great value to those of us struggling with finding it. How do you TRAIN FOR HAPPINESS? Do you just prepare to “be” happy? Or is there a deliberate mantra or slogan you practice with? How does one TRAIN FOR HAPPINESS? I’d like to know. \n  \n—Michel Deforge \n* \n  \n(Michael’s last question is a good one to ponder. John Paisley once asked some of his friends to write about happiness. I wrote the poem “Eudæmanology.” It’s not the final or definitive word on the subject\, but might (I hope) provide some clues for our ongoing quest. (J.S.)) \n  \nEudæmonology*  \n  \nwell\, right off I’d better say  \nhappiness is an art\, not a science  \n  \nit helps if you start out deliriously happy  \nsome kids hesitate  \nothers run right at life\, full-speed\, with wide-open arms  \nif they trip and fall flat on their face  \nthey get up and keep charging  \n  \nif you weren’t one of those kids  \nI don’t know what to tell you  \nmaybe you’ll always hesitate  \n  \nand if you were one of those wildly happy ones  \nyou already know the secret  \nlearned it without being taught  \nknew it before you knew you knew it  \nno anamnesis required  \nbecause you never forgot who you are  \n  \nof course between then and now something could have happened  \nsomething relentless like family\, school\, television\, job  \nduties\, obligations\, commitments\, tragedies even  \nthe car accident\, the cancer  \n  \nthere are parts of the world—big parts—where tragedy is the dirty air you can’t avoid breathing \nplaces where food is scarce and machine guns are plentiful  \nif you don’t live in one of those places you’re damn lucky  \n  \nso\, the conclusion so far seems to be that happiness is a matter of luck  \n  \nbut there’s more to it  \n  \nwhere I live many young women could easily go to the store and get food  \nbut instead they get so thin they look scary  \n  \num\, so the question is: what is required for happiness?  \nwell\, it starts with the basics: food\, shelter\, clean water to drink  \nthen\, other stuff comes into it: love\, affection\, friendship  \n  \nand the art of not making yourself miserable  \n  \nthe Buddha said craving is the source of suffering  \nand cessation of craving is liberation  \n  \nbear that in mind  \n  \nI think a big problem is that people forget that thoughts are just thoughts  \nit’s as if all the ideas\, opinions\, beliefs they have accumulated are the world in which they live  \nrather than the filter through which they see the world  \n  \nso\, the secret of happiness?  \nmaybe something like this…  \nseeing through the spell of thought and language  \ncoming again and again  \nwide awake  \nto the silence  \nthat knows  \nnothing  \n  \n* A neglected branch of Philosophy\, the study of happiness.  \n  \n—Johnny Stallings \n* \n  \nWeary of those who come with words\, words but no language\, \nI make my way to the snow-covered island. \nThe untamed has no words. \nIts blank pages spread out in all directions. \nI come across the tracks of some deer in the snow— \nLanguage\, but no words. \n  \n—Tomas Tranströmer   (March\, 1979)\, from Bill Faricy \n* \n  \n#3  Miracles \n  \nLife and all that it is \, is a miracle. Our very decision to take a path can be a miracle\, or it could be a curse\, but even a curse could be a miracle. So many of life’s mishaps or follies turn out to be miracles in disguise. A good one to consider is Prometheus’ plight: he bequeathed the fire of the gods to man. Man got fire and the big bird got his liver for a meal every day. Prometheus will never die. There are three miracles in that story. \n  \nThose of us within the walls of a prison can choose to be miracles to those we love and for those who are lost—because they need love\, too. We can\, with a full heart of humbleness\, help them to find their path. I ask many the same question that a great man once asked me when I needed it most: “Who are you\, really?” \n  \nMost people want to do good and be good and I’ve noticed that most just want to live a simple life—a job\, wife\, home\, car\, etc.—to accomplish that\, to them would be a miracle. To walk away from the life that put us in prison and reform ourselves is a miracle. To say “no” to addiction and “yes” to life is a miracle. \n  \nSo\, I call you to be the miracle for yourself and then look to your left and to your right and tell each person that they are a miracle too. Hug\, touch\, laugh\, glow in the light of inner love you have. Radiate the light of goodness inside\, for that is the spark that is a beacon to all who need a focal point to see that the miracle of change is real. \n  \n—Rocky Hutchinson \n* \n  \n(Thich Nhat Hanh turned 95 on October 11th. He is known as Thây\, which means “teacher\,” by many people. In 1982\, he established the Plum Village Monastery in the south of France. In November of 2014\, he had a major stroke\, and has been unable to speak since that time. In November of 2018\, he returned to Vietnam. Katie has been to Plum Village many times. She sent us this newsletter\, which I’ve edited a bit:) (J.S.) \n  \nDear Beloved Community\,  \n  \nWarm greetings from Plum Village\, France  \n  \nPeaceful dwelling  \n  \nAs we approach Thầy’s 95th birthday this week\, we would like to share with our international community how Thầy and our sangha at Từ Hiếu Temple in Huế\, Vietnam have been doing…..We are deeply grateful for the love and dedication of the team of people taking care of our teacher.  \n  \nOver the last year\, Thầy’s health has weakened. The autumn rains have always been challenging for Thầy’s lungs and health\, and continue to be so. This spring Thầy was not able to go outside to visit the temple grounds as much as he could last year. Nevertheless\, the sangha was delighted that\, when the Từ Hiếu Temple renovation was finished\, Thầy was well enough to make a tour of the temple to visit the completed works. In recent months\, Thầy has been resting for most of the day with his eyes closed\, yet he is often very alert\, present and at peace. When the weather is fine\, the attendants help Thầy to go out onto the veranda of the Deep Listening Hut to enjoy the sun.   \n  \nWe are here for you  \n  \nWith the great challenges of the Covid-19 pandemic in Vietnam\, both Từ Hiếu Root Temple and our Diệu Trạm nunnery have been mostly closed to visitors. Fortunately\, Huế has been spared the major outbreak that Ho Chi Minh City has endured….Many people in Vietnam have been without food or work. With the help of our international sangha friends\, as part of our Love and Understanding social work program\, our monastics in Vietnam have been doing their best to supply oxygen\, food\, medicine and donations at the roadside food banks helping those most in need.  \n  \nWe are deeply aware that the pandemic has brought great suffering to countless people all around the world. We continue to do our best to practice diligently with stability and compassion\, so we can be a refuge for you all\, now and in the future. It is our deep wish to open Plum Village in France again as soon as possible.  \n  \nNew ways to practice together  \n  \n….Finding ways to support one another as we integrate mindfulness practice more deeply into daily life has been a powerful collective journey.  \n  \nThis month\, a small delegation of monastics representing Thầy will be traveling from Plum Village to Scotland to participate in the TED Countdown conference ahead of the COP26 climate talks. They will be sharing Thầy’s teachings on ethics and awakening with leaders\, scientists\, activists and businesspeople; and they will also teach practices of mindful walking\, mindful breathing\, mindful eating\, and the art of deep listening. Thầy always hoped that mindfulness retreats could be organized ahead of political summits\, and it’s wonderful to have the chance to contribute towards his vision.  \n  \nThe gift of listening  \n  \nFor Thầy’s birthday this year\, we’re inviting our whole community to offer Thầy the gift of our practice: in particular\, the collective practice of deep listening to ourselves\, our loved ones\, and the Earth. Our own practice of mindfulness is the most powerful gift we can offer to continue Thầy’s teachings and legacy in the world.   \n  \nThank you for being there\, and for walking this path with us. We are deeply grateful for your continued support and generosity for our monastic community as we carry Thầy’s legacy forward into the future.  \n  \nWith love\, gratitude\, and trust\,   \n  \nThe Monks and Nuns of Plum Village  \n  \n—Katie Radditz \n* \n  \n72 \n  \nAll my errors made me who I am— \nthat set-back quickened my epiphany\, \nthat detour brought me to the way\, \ncatastrophe was cradle to awakening\, \ndisaster kindled the great shazam. \n  \nYou young folks\, take a lesson \nfrom one humbled by attrition: \nmay you relish revelation born \nof every kink in your intention \nas required by your formation. \n  \nVery Local Weather \n  \nThe forecast is moderate\, but significant— \nat least to me: the little storm my body builds \npassing through this world. Light breezes \nof the breath inhaled become variable winds\, \nenough to stir a drifting feather\, or puff some \nthistledown\, my sigh slight\, but bold\, compared \nto a bird’s whisper stirring a thicket\, or wisplet \nof the butterfly\, flaring wings through golden light. \nA warming trend imbues the damp stump I sit on\, \nthen I disturb the air by stepping the stony path. \nAnd don’t forget the spate of yellow rain spent \nfrom my cloudy soul onto dry leaves. And \ndon’t forget how my habits change the climate\, \nmy light\, my speed\, my hurricane of acquisition \nmelting ice\, raising seas\, burning mountains— \nI and you and all of our tornado transformations. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nToday is a happy day: Josh Underhill got out of prison this morning. Christine Darnell forwarded me a picture from Josh’s mom. He has a big smile on his face. Christine informed me that “he finished off his chicken fried steak\, hash browns and gravy with no problem.” I’m looking forward to having pizza with Josh on Sunday\, in two days. \n  \nI met Josh on a Wednesday evening\, June 3\, 2009\, and spent three hours with him every week for six years. And then\, Nancy and I saw him once a month for five more years. We did a lot of plays together: A Midsummer Night’s Dream\, Twelfth Night\, Twelve Angry Men\, King Lear\, Winter’s Tale\, Hamlet. We have a lot of shared memories\, a lot of the same friends. \n  \nNancy and I had the good fortune to watch Josh grow up—become wiser\, and more self-confident. He has always been very thoughtful of others. A gentle soul. \n  \nYesterday was overcast and rainy. Today the sky is bright blue. I can’t imagine what it must feel like for Josh today—not surrounded by concrete walls\, seeing so much\, experiencing so much\, getting to spend the day with his loved ones. Might be a bit of a “sensory overload\,” and somewhat overwhelming emotionally. There will be challenges ahead\, but he’s going to do well. He’s been on a good trajectory for a long time. I’m grateful to have him as my friend. \n  \nDear Josh:  \nA lot of people love you and wish you well. \n  \n—Johnny Stallings \n* \n  \n(Note to readers: Please contribute to our dialogue as writers as well as readers.)
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/meditation-mindfulness-dialogue-10-15-21/
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DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20211028
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20211111
DTSTAMP:20260427T113531
CREATED:20211028T165259Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20211028T184339Z
UID:2421-1635379200-1636588799@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  10/28/21
DESCRIPTION:  \n \nphotos by Kim Stafford \n  \n  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \n  \n  \nOctober 28\, 2021 \n  \n  \nPoems from the past five days…where do they come from? \n  \nby Kim Stafford \n  \nFor some years now\, I’ve started each day with a walk before dawn\, then sitting with my breath\, then coffee\, then something like a poem—that is\, an exploratory utterance rising from recent experience in the world\, and in thought.  \n     For what it’s worth\, in response to Johnny’s invitation\, here are the most recent five adventures into my realm of scribbling… \n  \n  \n16 October \n  \nAt the coast for my birthday\, we went to the turnout south from Depot Bay to watch a whale out beyond the breakers breach and roll. My poem the next day tried to honor this encounter. As often happens\, though\, I got a little preachy toward the end\, with my “So we must…” conclusion. This is my failing: loving Earth\, hoping for the future\, seeking to honor the miracles that come tug our sleeves… \n  \n  \n  At Rocky Creek We Watch the Whale \n  \nOut beyond the heave and shattered roll of waves \nwe see the puff\, the plume\, breath burst\, the back’s \ndark gleam sliding down into the massive deep. \n  \nThat’s about how much we know of everything— \ndreams of wheeling birds\, the swell and fade of seasons— \na glimpse gone down\, a gasp\, and the rest is guessing. \n  \nPrecious Earth\, leviathan—the visible we see\, and say \nwe know\, while the hidden will be what we need. \n  \n  \n  \n17 October \n  \nAt the coast\, we rose at 5a.m. for low tide to gather mussels from wave-pummeled rocks—the errand of a fool\, or in our case\, the dedicated gourmand. While wrestling in the dark with waves to our knees\, I found myself wondering if there might be a phrase in French to describe a gourmet so dedicated\, no danger was too great in the pursuit of fine flavor. Thus\, this adventure came to the page… \n  \n  \nCampagne Extrême du Gourmet \n  \nAt the darkest episode of night \nwe strode by wave-bashed rocks \nin thunder din of the rising tide \nto address the wall of blue shell \nmussels pried by headlamp flicker \ninto the pail for our planned repast \nwith butter\, lemon\, and white wine\,  \nas the sea surge wrapped our knees \nuntil we shuddered as the dark tug  \nand thrash from out beyond our faint  \nperiphery demanded utter surrender  \nto be swept\, to be stumbled into ocean’s  \nhungry pot\, to be stirred into torn asunder\,  \nto be atomized\, to be distilled  \ninto the flavor salt. \n  \n  \n  \n18 October \n  \nOur daughter knows the sommelière at a local winery\, and he generously invited us to come sip. By the third vintage I was feeling no pain\, and the next morning composed a blessing in his honor and sent it off… \n  \n  \n      A Sip Serene \n  \nUp from stone and earth \nby the vine-root clench \ndrought-flavored rain \nrises into stem\, leaf\, bud\, \nand tendril to spangle in sun \nalong the row hung heavy \nwith fisted clusters to be \ncrushed\, then cherished \ninto wine\, the whole hill \nshimmered in this scent \nthat fills the mind\, and \nthen this sip of honor. \n  \n  \n  \n19 October \n  \nThis really big crow landed on the lintel above our garden gate\, and started strutting back and forth. I enjoyed the spectacle…and then next morning\, writing\, started by trying to describe his imperious presence. But once I had that\, I thought\, “That’s cool\, but so what?” I realized he reminded me of certain Type-A males who lord it over the rest of us (Jeff B.\, Elon M.\, Mark Z.)\, and so they got into the opening lines… \n  \n  \n                         King Crow \nWhen some fat cat\, filthy rich\, swaggers  \nand proclaims—you know\, the ones with \nyachts\, trophy homes\, and bizarre opinions\,  \nthe ones who clearly never learned to practice  \nbasic human etiquette—I see our king crow\,  \nthe heavy one swooping low to settle and command  \nthe lintel board above the gate\, to strut and brag\,  \nhis bead black eyes glinting dire fire\, his seesaw  \nrocking tossing shouts to the sky\, flexing his sheen  \nof rainbow black\, burning the air with sheer bravado  \nas he disdains his craven clan below\, all small crows  \nbowing and scraping\, thrusting their beaks for pickings. \n  \nAbove it all\, his highness pivots\, shrugs\, and shouts:  \nShow me something worth my time—then it’s mine. \n  \n  \n  \n20 October \n  \nI’ve been going through old letters\, and as I work my way back into the 1970s I come to the time I was preparing\, foolishly\, to become a scholar. I compiled vast bibliographies\, and worked my way through a slew of books chosen—not because they were good\, but because they were essential to my chosen field of study. Then I remembered the scholarly exercise of the “Abstract\,” that paragraph at the head of a formal article\, distilling the import of what was to follow. Then out of nowhere—my favorite source for writing—I thought of the phrase “It takes one to know one…\,” and I started wondering who first said that…and soon I was back to our primitive forebears. Then I started having fun… \n  \n  \nInnocent Words of Ancient Import \nby Hector Persimian\, Ph.D.\, DMD\, ABC\, DVD \n  \nAbstract: This paper charts new ground in phase archeology—as a complement to genetic investigations into the origin of human species—through an examination of indicator phrases like “you scratch my back\, I scratch yours\,” a clear reference to primordial grooming rituals (Baker\, 1987); “takes one to know one\,” a key to solidarity among rival Homo dejectus hunting bands (Spice\, 1993); and “one may smile and smile and yet may be a villain\,” a phrase long attributed to a particular writer\, but clearly originating in the confrontational grin display of our simian forebears (Jekyll and Hyde\, 2001). We will conclude with a close study of the phrase “Yes and no\,” a tantalizing remnant of our ancestors’ philosophical struggle with their existential conundrum: should we come down from the trees? \n  \n  \n  \n21 October \n  \nYesterday\, our son told us of the disastrous new computer system at work\, causing all kinds of disruption and despair. On my morning walk\, I got to thinking about other kinds of dysfunction. Both Capitalism and the avoidance of Climate Crisis came to mind. In my walking meditation\, the words “glitch” and “triage’ came to mind\, and I had to write the poem to find out what these two words might want to say to one another. \n  \n  \n       Remedy for Glitch \nWhen things go crazy haywire— \ncomputer crash\, capitalism cheats\, oil  \nburns us all—it’s time for triage. So\, \n  \nchoose one: (1) How did this happen?… \nor (2) Whose fault is this?…or \n(3) What’s to be done? \n  \nScreen in my face\, money in hand\, \nand a hard look at my habits: \nreboot…learn thrift…simplify. \n  \n  \n  \nI can make no claim for the value\, the “success\,” of these humble poems. But I do believe in the practice of making them. By sitting each morning with my thoughts\, wonderings\, intuitions\, struggles\, and obsessions\, I write in order to honor our perennial opportunity when faced with trouble: There might be another way. \n  \n—Kim Stafford
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-10-28-21/
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BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20211031
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20211114
DTSTAMP:20260427T113531
CREATED:20211028T190945Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20211103T015210Z
UID:2431-1635638400-1636847999@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:Bibliophiles Unanimous!  10/31/21
DESCRIPTION:  \nBeloved Bibliophiles \n  \n(Apologies Everyone. I’m having problems with the formatting on this page. Everything below is squashed together. I’ll see if some tech support people can help me get this fixed soon.) \n  \nJude recommended NATURE as the topic Bibliophiles Unanimous! on Sunday\, October 31st. Here’s her recap\, with a few things added by Johnny at the end: \n  \n  \n\n\nHi Johnny\,\n\n\n\nHere are some notes on our very fun BiblioUn. yesterday:\n\n\n\nFirst of all\, the Japanese term I couldn’t dredge up was ‘shinrin yoku\,’ or ‘forest bathing.’ My friend\, Yasuko\, and I are glad that our belief that ‘bathing in nature’ is actually beneficial is now validated by the Japanese term\, ‘shinrin yoku.’ It means ‘making contact with and taking in the atmosphere of the forest\,’ and it is something the Japanese take seriously (as do I!). And remember I said that this not-so-common term and its meaning were inscribed on a large reader board at the not-so-prominent Little Zigzag Falls near Zigzag and Government Camp\, OR. What are the chances of that?!?!\n\n\n\nWhew!  one or two sentence summary of the books I mentioned:\n\n\n\nThe Overstory – Richard Powers – A novel with 9 main characters about our treatment of and relationship with the environment\, specifically trees\, forests…Nine very different characters and nine very different stories\, but all pulled together in the end.\n\n\n\nUnderland– Robert MacFarlane – Nonfiction telling of explorations under the earth’s surface. MacFarlane studies the fungi that create a cooperative system below forest floors\, with the plant scientist\, Merlin Sheldrake. (I had totally forgotten his romp with Sheldrake the whole time I was later reading Entangled Life by..Merlin Sheldrake!) The book also looks at burial and darkness and deep time…\n\n\n\nThe Lost Words-Robert MacFarlane – Beautiful art in a large book depicting one hundred words in middle schoolers’ dictionaries that have been deemed obsolescent and have been replaced\, mostly by computer related terms (byte\, etc.). Because most children no longer get out in nature much anymore (hence the nauseating term ‘Nature Deficit Disorder’)\, most or all of the words are related to nature: wren\, bramble\, dandelion\, weasel\, etc. MacFarlane writes a poem for each lost word\, and each is accompanied by a gorgeous watercolor.\n\n\n\nThe Invention of Nature – Andrea Wulf – Story of Alexander von Humboldt\, early to mid-19th century Prussian explorer and naturalist who understood nature as an interconnected global force. He discovered the similarities in climate zones across the world at different elevations and different latitudes\, and also predicted human-caused climate change.\n\n\n\nThe Brother Gardeners – Andrea Wulf – In the 18th century\, wealthy estate owners in England sought to expand their properties from the rigid\, formal privet/lawn/columnar conifer forms to include exotic\, floriferous plants from around the world. Captain Cook\, Captain Bligh\,Erasmus Darwin (grandad of Chuck)\, Benjamin Franklin and others figure into this plant frenzy.\n\n\n\nThe Wild Trees – Richard Preston – About the scaling and mapping of the tallest trees in the world (350′-400′!) \, found in the California Redwoods. The discovery of another plant world\, hundreds of feet up in the trees\, figures into this; compacted soil\, ferns\, moss\, huckleberry bushes\, even crustaceans live and thrive in this ‘deep canopy.’ You can walk around up there. Wow!\n\n\n\nBraiding Sweetgrass – Robin Wall Kimmerer – Author is a professor of botany and of Potawatomi heritage. She ‘braids’ together indigenous wisdom and scientific knowledge and gives equal importance to each. She convinced me.\n\n\n\n\nThe Botany of Desire – Michael Pollan – Author picks four plants (potato\, marijuana\, tulip and apple) to show how plants create desire in humans\, thereby assuring (in very different ways) their (continued) survival. The potato (control)\, marijuana (intoxication)\, tulip (beauty)\, and apple (sweetness). He posits that plants control us  rather than us controlling plants.\n\n\n\nThanks for yesterday and all other Biblio days!\n\n\n\n\n\nJude\n\n\n\n\nJude also held up a copy of The Entangled Web by Merlin Sheldrake.\n\n\n\nMartha talked about A World on the Wingby Scott Weidensaul.\n\n\n\nJohnny Scharbach spoke of The Secret Life of Trees by Peter Wohlleben and mentioned  Chris Maser\, who wrote many books\, including Forest Primeval. He also talked about a book he’s reading titled The Web of Meaning.\n\n\n\nKatie told us a little about what her son Abel and his wife Tao are doing. They are both ecologists\, and are currently helping teach a Permaculture course through Oregon State University. Katie: please remind me what books you talked about.\n\n\n\nTodd talked about the New England Transcendentalists and read this poem that he wrote:\n\n\n\n\n\n\n  \nHalf Dome\, Autumn \n  \nI can never get over the notion \nthat fall trees are old ladies and gents \nstrutting across the green: \nladies\, in their elaborate turn-of-the-century hats \nfloppy brims and trailing dresses \nmen\, all spiffy in top hats and spats \npin-striped pants\, tails lopping in the breeze. \n  \nAll through the winter \nthey reach into bare sky \ntheir feathers banished by stripping winds; \nstopped like dancers on a music box. \nRain lashes their trunks black \nthen quietly encases them in silver and glass. \n  \nBut suddenly\, the miracle of spring. \nTheir glass shells shatter to the ground. \nGreen emerges and reaches from their bodies. \nAll summer it reaches out to the edge of shadow. \n\n  \nBut\, like I say\, \n\nit’s in the fall these ladies and gents start their promenade \nand they keep walking right up to the last feather. \n\n  \n–Todd Oleson \n  \n\n\n\n\nI mentioned a couple books by David Abram: The Spell of the Sensuous & Becoming Animal. And a couple films: “Fantastic Fungi” and “Winged Migration.”\n\n\n\n\n\n\npeace & love\n\n\n\n\nJohnny\n\n\n \n\n\n\n\n\n 
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/bibliophiles-unanimous-10-31-21/
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