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SUMMARY:Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue  11/15/21
DESCRIPTION:photo by Kim Stafford \n  \n  \nOpen Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue \n  \n  \n  November 15\, 2021 \n  \nIn childhood\, you could look miles across a cookie\, and never see the other side. \n  \n—William Stafford \n* \n  \n(This poem by Alex Tretbar is part of a much longer poem called “Cat’s Game.”) (JS) \n  \nINDRA’S NET \n  \nEven gods & holy \nmen have their toys \n& tools of trade: \n  \nHermes the caduceus \n& Jehova His burning bush \n& Odin his ravens \n& the Buddha a stone himself. \n  \nAnd there is elephant-throned Indra \nwith his jewel-bedecked net. \n  \nWhat does he catch with it? \n  \nNothing (everything)\, actually. \nThe net lies draped in the air \naround his castle\, and all matter \nreflects & refracts \nthrough the facet clusters stationed \nat every X of the mesh—infinite gems\, \n  \nall of which link to the others. \nPeer into one & peer into all: \nsee  your face \nas though through a fly’s  \ncomposite eyes\, see your face \nsuperimposed over \nevery human face to grow \n& fade\, all faces of clock & moon\, \nsurface of all waters \nboth quiet & vengeful \nthe original \n  \n     drop \n  \nof cytoplasm \nfrom every star’s vantage— \nall of the brittle cosmos \ncaught up in a fractal \nself-repeating\, coiling \nwithout pause within \nyour eye. \n  \nNo one is to blame. \n  \n—Alex Tretbar \n* \n  \n(Katie Radditz sent this story from Loren Eiseley\, author of The Immense Journey.) (JS) \n  \nWhile wandering a deserted beach at dawn\, stagnant in my work\, I saw a man in the distance bending and throwing as he walked the endless stretch toward me. As he came near\, I could see that he was throwing starfish\, abandoned on the sand by the tide\, back into the sea. When he was close enough I asked him why he was working so hard at this strange task. He said that the sun would dry the starfish and they would die. I said to him that I thought he was foolish. There were thousands of starfish on miles and miles of beach. One man alone could never make a difference. He smiled as he picked up the next starfish. Hurling it far into the sea he said\, “It makes a difference for this one.” I abandoned my writing and spent the morning throwing starfish. — Loren Eiseley \n  \n(Katie adds:) \n  \nIt’s a fabulous reminder when we feel guilty that we are not doing more to help.  What’s important is to do what we love—for those who come along our path. This is a tale for living a magical life\, just appreciating that we and all these amazing beings are alive.   \n  \n—Katie Radditz \n* \n  \n(Here are some excerpts from Michel’s meditation journal. The numbers refer to sections from Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh.) (JS) \n  \nOctober 10\, 2021  #177  THE INDIVISIBLE BODY OF REALITY \n  \n….I have learned sometime back—how far\, I don’t recall—that everything is part of the whole. Some may say\, “I see a unified reality\,” as in\, “We’re all in this together.” And I agree. For me\, this goes deeper. Since I adopted a view of the original cause of all things as GOD—(drawing deeply from Jewish sources\, along with an Evangelical Protestant Christian upbringing)—I perceive this omnipresent Being (God is everywhere at all times—beyond time\, even) of infinite power created\, first\, a space in infinite reality for this reality to exist. Many traditions have looked for explanation of whys and wherefores. I’ve learned to accept some of what I can’t know—hoping benevolence over malevolence. \n  \nBy retracting some of the infinitude of GOD\, GOD made space for me—or even for “me\,” with all the so-called negatives (“bad”) and positives (“good”) I may bring forth in this world. I see this world as a creation to allow the Infinite-All-That-Is (unity) to experience relationship\, which requires “other.” I base this on: If GOD is ALL\, then there is no…thing else. Any other would be subsumed into GOD’s ALL—as a candle’s light is subsumed by the sun\, yet even more so. What this contraction of All-That-Is idea does for me is to create a space for “me” to exist\, along with my present “reality\,” and I am able to experience relationships to other people\, to other beings (sentient or not)\, and to All-That-Is. Under all this is an interconnection between all things. We may not see it\, or even want to do so—that’s okay. This connection informs\, for me\, that were GOD to reveal the infinite to man\, we would cease to exist as individuals\, and interdependence would meld back into the Ultimate Unity\, as all “things” once again became The One\, Source-of-All. \n  \nInterconnectedness is probably easier to contemplate than my personal glimpse of reality. Sadly\, the view doesn’t always hold to the forefront of my mind\, and so I “fall” victim to interpreted reality (based on Ego)\, losing sight of just how deeply interconnected we all are in this “now” moment\, and I see myself as independent and alone. \n  \nThis “alone”-ness is just a fabrication of mind attempting to assert a control over reality\, claiming independence from “others\,” and forgetting the value of a reality where “We’re all in this present moment together.” The Buddha taught “the three poisons” as his way of explaining in simple human terms what he came to see as the Ultimate Reality (he named “Nirvana”-paradise). However we learn to label and accept reality as it is—(exploring Ultimate Reality at times)—we can eventually learn to see a connection to all other “beings” and “things” within this reality. It isn’t easy to explain and/or wrap a mind around. Forgive me my simple fallibility\, as I am also part of you\, as much you are a precious part of my being too. \n  \n  \nOctober 14\, 2021  #181 A BABY CRIES \n  \nI wonder\, how many of us are scared of babies in some fashion—their neediness we can’t meet\, their fragility we may fracture\, their delicate frame\, or emotional state\, and more? Learning to see and embrace our emotional state of anger (or any emotional state) as our suffering baby within\, holding and comforting him or her: this seems foreign to me\, yet it also makes some sense in the world of mindfulness. When we engage our playful side\, and imagine emotional states\, such as anger\, as fragile\, delicate babies in much need of gentleness and loving care—then\, maybe\, we can also imagine ourselves giving loving tender care as we hope we might\, instead of what we fear we might do as an alternative. Maybe I’m the only one (not likely) to have trepidation when it comes to babies in general\, and\, specifically\, to holding or comforting one. It has been many years since I’ve been around a baby. It can’t be too “hard” to do. I can imagine\, pretend doing what I want\, even now\, when I feel distressed and upset. And in doing so I’m imagining what I can do for that core expression of my emotional state. That would be mindfulness. \n  \n  \nOctober 26\, 2021  #188  IDEAS OF HAPPINESS \n  \nThis one is so very true. I have seen this in my own life\, as well as numerous others. There is an oblivion we develop around ideas of happiness: If only…when I get/do/become…etc….then I’ll be happy. Yet\, how often do we find ourselves in the “ideal” and still not happy! Have you ever noticed this in your own life\, or that of others? (Sometimes I can see my own challenges more clearly when they are part of someone else’s life challenges.) \n  \nSo\, what does it really take for us to be truly happy? How do we get there? Or is it\, like many lessons I’ve learned\, already present fully developed and waiting to be “let out”? What do you think? Is this plausible? What’s your experience of this? \n  \nAt one point I had to learn (again?) what happiness was—an absence of sadness. Thankfully\, I had a great friend to help me talk my way out of the morass I had put myself into. (A story for another day.) It was the oddest idea at the time: If I wasn’t “sad\,” then I must be feeling happy! There’s lots of books and ideas about finding your happiness. Thây offers the simplest and easiest path to realize the happiness present already. \n  \n  \nOctober 28\, 2021  #189  THE APPLE TREE \n  \nThe first part of this reminds me of the Gravenstein apple tree in my grandparents’ back yard. The apples were great for applesauce. I loved them best when they were underripe—tart and yet sweet\, with a crisp crunch. They never became mealy\, like red or yellow Delicious. They were also good for pies! But I digress. Thây’s point was about paying attention—being mindful of living beings: (entities\, not all of which are sentient). It’s not hard to do\, just pay attention and act on what you observe in the moment; no grand schemes or plans required. Just be in the now…. \n  \nI haven’t seen a tree in over 14 years. Not up close or on any sort of regular basis. But I am surrounded by plenty of beings in need (?) of my attentive presence in the now. I can give that to them\, and myself too\, by remembering to breathe and not attach to what happens—what I hear\, or what others do. I can set an intention to be\, to be present\, to be attentive (as needed)\, to respond (as needed)\, and to offer compassion for that being. Maybe that’s your Apple Tree too?! Watch ‘em grow. \n  \n—Michel Deforge \n* \n  \nEach leaf of grass\, each single spear\, whether it be green blade or brown blade\, is the resting place of each night’s dreams that turn into mist and dew. \n  \nSome of the dreams grow into the ground to grow once again more loves to hold more dreams\, while some evaporate into sky and return to the lakes\, rivers and seas\, and become dreams once again. \n  \nOn a full-moon night\, when all is covered in mist and dew\, upon the grass a million drops will rest like shivering diamonds twinkling in the moonlight. The grass in a small patch could hold the dreams of the whole world for us to behold. \n  \n—Rocky Hutchinson \n* \n  \nReflections in the Heart (#332) \n  \n“Everything—the trees\, the wind\, the birds\, the mountains\, everything inside us and around us—wants to reflect itself in us. We don’t have to go anywhere to obtain the truth. We only need to be still\, and things will reveal themselves in the still water of our heart.” (from Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh) \n  \nThank goodness! Is this telling me that I don’t have to apologize for\, or explain\, or defend my lack of desire to travel??? To be somewhere else—some exotic\, exciting\, stimulating somewhere else? Everybody I know loves and lives for travel: Italy\, Argentina\, Croatia\, Greece… And as soon as they return\, they’re planning for the next great adventure. And I’m sure they all are ‘great adventures.’ They say to me\, “You have the time\, you have the money\, why don’t you just go?” But… I love being here\, right here\, at home. \n  \nHere is my thought: we moved away from Portland fourteen years ago. Ever since then\, when people ask me what’s our next travel plan\, what’s our next destination\, I reply\, “Here. Right here. We are the destination! Nowhere to go. This is it.” \n  \nAnd there is a delicious stillness to it. People say\, “But don’t you feel isolated up there? Don’t you feel alone?” Isolated\, no. Alone— deliciously\, yes. And some people say\, “Isn’t it…boring? Sometimes?” No way. Why\, just the other day\, while walking Lolo up on the canal\, I encountered a pickup truck with two young guys. They hopped out and asked if I had seen a couple of cows wandering around loose. “Why no\,” I said\, “I haven’t. Where did they wander away from?” “Oh\, from the Mountain Meat Packing Company up there on Miller Road.” I burst out laughing and said\, “Well\, friends\, if I see them I’m going to round them up and hide them in my back yard!” So in that random encounter I sure wouldn’t call any part of it boring. Would you? I thought not. And moreover\, if I don’t want to feel alone\, I can drive two miles up to Parkdale\, population 430—a bustling metropolis—and hang out at the post office. \n  \nWhen I am alone\, when things are in their stillness\, I can—as I call it—ponder and wander. It is when my thoughts can have the space to be the most creative\, and ‘productive\,’ (e.g. thoughts becoming material for a short story)\, or when things just settle into quietude. I am not isolated. I am not alone. \n  \nMy heart is in my home; my home is in my heart.  \n  \n—Jude Russell \n* \n  \nA humble recent poem in case it might be useful. \n  \nI woke up with the phrase in mind\, “Friendly corner.” What that mean? I asked this in my mind\, and into my mind came the image of a great old tree…so I wrote the poem to learn the story of this good thing: \n  \n  \n                    Friendly Corner \n  \nPeople use it to give directions. For neighbors\,  \nit’s the nexus. If we had no church or school\, \nthis is where we’d gather\, for it’s all about  \nthe great old tree—that’s why children come. \nFor the wee ones\, a root hump throne makes you  \nqueen of all you see. A little older\, you can ride  \nthe long low limb for horse\, and race the wind.  \nOlder yet\, climb ladder branches to find the hollow  \nhouse for dreams. Is it any wonder mothers meet \nto share their joys and sorrows? Sometimes fathers\,  \ntoo. Is this where you want to live\, and what you  \nwant to see? There’s just one way: plant the tree. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nWith our thoughts we create worlds\, then live in them. Each day\, sometimes from one moment to the next\, we might find ourself in a Hell. Or a Paradise. Once we get the hang of it\, perfect happiness can be ours in the blink of an eye. Our life is short. This day is precious. There is no other. \n  \nA few days after I wrote the previous brief meditation\, I was inspired by Michel’s meditation\, A BABY CRIES. Thich Nhat Hanh had written that we should treat our anger the way a mother would treat a crying baby\, by holding it tenderly. In his meditation\, Michel begins by saying: “I wonder\, how many of us are scared of babies in some fashion—their neediness we can’t meet\, their fragility we may fracture\, their delicate frame\, or emotional state\, and more?” In the July issue\, I proposed that people try a baby meditation: imagining being a baby\, looking out at the world without language\, concepts\, identity\, regrets\, or problems. Michel’s meditation made me imagine another meditation. Here it is: \n  \nWhen you are by yourself\, and no one is watching\, cross your arms across your chest and imagine that you are holding a newborn baby against your body. Really feel it! Okay\, now imagine that the baby is you. Hold your baby self tenderly in your arms and love your baby self with all your heart. \n  \nThat’s the meditation. We all need to love ourself. For many people this is difficult. For some\, it feels almost impossible. We all started our life journey as tiny babies. That innocent\, fragile\, perfect being is who we are. I’m hoping that this meditation will help us to feel deeply the truth of this. \n  \nThis might also be a healing exercise for those who\, like Michel\, have not been around a baby for many years. \n  \n—Johnny Stallings \n* \n  \nNot long ago I came across a poem that Jack Kerouac wrote to his former wife (Kerouac being the beat-era writer who inspired many of us to lead FULL lives\, no matter what).  His poem includes this little passage that I’ve been savoring since I read it: \n  \nPractice kindness all day to everybody \nand you will realize you’re already \nin heaven now. \n  \nThanks Jack\, and thanks Johnny.       \n  \nlove\,    \n  \n—Bill Faricy \n* \n  \n(As I was putting the finishing touches on this dialogue\, I discovered a fresh new poem on Kim’s FaceBook page. It’s perfect for our Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue.) (JS) \n  \n     My Infrastructure \n  \nThat gate latch—loose. \nShovel and hoe—dull. \nDripping faucet—priority. \nFrayed shoelace—on the list. \nConnectivity—upgrade overdue. \nBasement storage—disaster. \nEyes\, teeth\, weight\, feet— \nyears of deferred maintenance. \nPreparation for the big one—a joke. \nGrasp of reality—in shambles. \nSo—where to begin? \n  \n—Kim Stafford
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/meditation-mindfulness-dialogue-11-15-21/
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DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20211209
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SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  11/25/21
DESCRIPTION:  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nNovember 25\, 2021 \n  \n  \nThis is a theater piece I wrote a while back. I performed it once\, at the First Unitarian Church of Portland. (J.S.) \n  \n  \nGoldfinches! \na theatrical monologue \n  \nthis is a story about stories \n  \nand about something that we might call “the storyless state” \n  \njoseph campbell wrote a book called the hero with a thousand faces about a kind of story that is found throughout history and all over the world that he called “the hero’s journey” \n  \nwe can use the hero’s journey as a metaphor for our life \n  \nand i would like to use it as the structure for this evening’s entertainment \n  \nthe hero’s journey begins with the call to adventure \n  \nwe have all already answered the call to adventure by coming here tonight \n  \nwe could have stayed home and watched tv \n  \nbut instead we left the comfort and safety and security of our homes—for what? \n  \nwe don’t know \n  \nand that is where the hero journeys: into the unknown \n  \ninto a dark wood\, or a cave\, or to the bottom of the sea \n  \none of the main things about the unknown is that you don’t know what you will find \n  \ni answered the call to adventure by deciding to write and perform a theatrical monologue \n  \nwhy would i want to undertake such a thing? \n  \nthat brings me to a little story about my life… \n  \nwhen i graduated from high school\, i went to college just like i was supposed to \n  \nbut i had never liked school \n  \nit always felt like a prison to me \n  \none day i realized that going to school was optional \n  \nand i could opt not to go \n  \nwhich i did \n  \nnow that is the age when you are supposed to choose a career and get with the program \n  \nbut i graduated from maui high school in 1969\, during the hippie era \n  \nwe are very prone to conformity at that age—maybe throughout life—and somehow i found myself conforming to the hippie form of “non-conformity” \n  \nwith long hair and oddball clothing and bare feet and all that \n  \nthat was how i wanted to present myself to the world \n  \ni felt more at home in this costume than in a white shirt\, suit and tie \n  \nnow\, “hippie” is not really a career choice and in fact\, i neglected to choose an occupation \n  \ni’ve held a variety of odd jobs—i once spent 18 months testing beet pulp pellets for hardness\, durability and fine particle content \n  \nfor many years i found the familiar question “what do you do?” to be difficult to answer \n  \nnow that i’m old\, i can look back on my life and ask: “what is my job?” \n  \nor\, better yet\, “what did i come here to do?” \n  \nand the answer\, i think—or at least one answer is: to gather people together \n  \nand so that is why i had the hare-brained idea of writing and performing a theatrical monologue \n  \nit’s a trick to get people to gather together \n  \nand here we are \n  \nso\, what happens after the hero answers the call to adventure? \n  \nhe or she goes into the wilderness—the unknown—on a quest for something \n  \nand sometimes you know what you are seeking and sometimes you don’t \n  \nbut in the unknown you always find something \n  \nand typically\, the hero encounters obstacles or difficulties \n  \nand meets magic helpers \n  \nand finds a treasure—which is probably guarded by a dragon or something \n  \nand the hero kills the dragon or at least tricks it \n  \nand steals the treasure \n  \nand returns home with something of value—not just for himself or herself—but for everyone \n  \nnow here’s an interesting thing: each one of us has treasure within \n  \neach one of us is the treasure \n  \nso\, why do we have to go down into a cave or to the bottom of the sea to find it? \n  \nwell\, that’s a good question \n  \nhere’s a story that is found in many cultures: \n  \nbefore we are born\, we have a special gift \n  \nand in the process of being born\, we lose the gift \n  \nand it is our task to find out what our gift is and then give it to everyone \n  \nfor example\, you might have a gift of music \n  \nand not know it \n  \nand you need to discover that you have it before you can share it with others \n  \nbut if you do\, your gift blesses everyone \n  \nanother version of this story is: \n  \nwhen we are born\, we forget who we are \n  \nand who we are is god \n  \nand we have to re-discover this \n  \nwe have to remember what has been forgotten \n  \nthe greek word for this is “anamnesis”—remembering what has been forgotten \n  \nso that is one version of our hero’s journey—we have to go to the bottom of the sea\, or to the first unitarian church\, or wherever\, to remember who we are \n  \nand we have to do this every day \n  \ngoing to sleep every night is like dying \n  \nand every morning we wake up and it’s a new day \n  \nwe have been reborn \n  \nand it’s great if we were happy yesterday\, but it doesn’t really help us to be happy today \n  \nand we need to find happiness today \n  \nand what worked yesterday will not work today \n  \nwe have to try something new \n  \nand where is the new found? \n  \nin the unknown \n  \nand so\, in a way\, we all may have thought we were coming here just to entertain or be entertained\, but actually we came here because we have to save our own life \n  \nwe have to be reborn \n  \nnow\, as the storyteller\, or entertainer\, i guess it’s supposed to be my job to come up with something really fantastic \n  \nyou know\, the greatest theatrical monologue you’ve ever heard\, or whatever \n  \nbut i’m not too worried about that\, because\, as far as i’m concerned\, i’ve already done my job\, which is to gather us together \n  \nand i don’t have to bring a great treasure\, because you are\, we are\, the treasure \n  \nand i have a kind of foolproof method of creating a magical\, fantastic\, wonderful experience\, which is: at the end of my monologue\, we will have a dialogue \n  \nand a dialogue circle cannot fail to be a perfect thing \n  \nand so i’d like to reassure anyone who is worried that this evening will be something less than perfect—that is not gonna happen! \n  \nit’s gonna be perfect \n  \nbecause however lame or inadequate my “entertaining” monologue is\, we will all have an opportunity to remedy that together in the dialogue circle \n  \nokay\, back to our hero’s journey\, which is our journey into story and storylessness \n  \nwilliam butler yeats said that each person has their own myth and that one of your jobs as a poet\, or just as a human being\, is to find out what your myth is \n  \nthat goes back to the idea of remembering what has been forgotten \n  \ni’d like to talk about a couple kinds of stories\, which i call: \n  \nidentity and mythos \n  \nidentity refers to the stories we tell ourselves about who we are \n  \nand mythos refers to our stories about the world \n  \nnow i am going to tell you a little story about my mythos \n  \nmany years ago\, when i was young\, i read a story by fyodor dostoevsky called “the dream of a ridiculous man” \n  \ni loved the story \n  \nit really resonated with me\, as they say \n  \nhere’s the story: \n  \nthere’s a guy who is depressed \n  \nlife has no meaning for him \n  \nhe feels that nothing makes any difference \n  \nhe decides to kill himself \n  \nhe buys a gun \n  \nhe’s just waiting for the right moment to do the deed \n  \nand he’s walking home and he sees a star in the sky and decides: “tonight is the night” \n  \nbut then a little girl comes up to him and wants his help \n  \nher mother is dying or is in some very bad situation and the little girl is crying and trying to get this guy to come with her \n  \nbut he doesn’t help the little girl \n  \nhe goes home so that he can commit suicide \n  \nbut he can’t get the little girl out of his mind \n  \nand he feels like he has to figure something out before he dies \n  \nand while he’s sitting there\, trying to figure it all out he falls asleep and dreams a dream \n  \nand this is his dream: \n  \nhe dreams that he kills himself \n  \nand he goes to another planet\, which is like earth\, except that it is paradisal \n  \nthere is no fear or war or hatred \n  \nit is a world where everyone lives in love \n  \nand in his dream he ruins everything in this perfect world \n  \nhe brings about a fall\, very much like what happens in the story of adam and eve \n  \nand the love planet gets worse and worse until it resembles our own \n  \nand then he wakes up \n  \nand he has a very strong feeling that he has seen the truth—that our life could be completely transformed\, it could be perfect\, if only we would love each other \n  \nso that’s dostoevsky’s story \n  \nand i liked it so much that i decided to perform it \n  \nbut it seemed too short for an evening in the theater\, so i added a piece that i had written called “columbus” \n  \ni wrote columbus in 1992\, for the 500th anniversary of columbus’ first voyage to the western hemisphere \n  \ni grew up with the story that columbus was a great hero who had discovered america \n  \nin my version there’s this guy who is drunk and he claims to be christopher columbus \n  \nand it isn’t explained whether this man is delusional\, or if he is the spirit of christopher columbus\, back from the dead\, or whatever \n  \nanyhow\, this christopher columbus is self-medicating with alcohol because he is in a lot of pain \n  \nin his version\, he didn’t discover anything—people already lived here \n  \nand they were a beautiful people—the taino—and they lived without war\, in a kind of paradise \n  \nand he brought about a fall \n  \nthe taino are no more \n  \nand my blubbering drunken christopher columbus wanted everyone to know that he had seen and understood something—that people can be beautiful and innocent and loving \n  \nhe had seen it with his own eyes \n  \nand it was only after i had put these two pieces together that i realized that they had the same theme: \n  \nparadise\, fall\, and a vision of a possible return to paradise \n  \nand i thought: “maybe this is my myth” \n  \npeople tend to think of paradise as something that may have existed in the past\, or which might exist in the future—maybe even after we die \n  \nbut paradise is this world in which we live—just as it is \n  \nthis gathering is paradise \n  \nand everyone sitting here is perfect \n  \nis paradise \n  \nso it seems to me \n  \nthis is my mythos—the story i tell myself about the world \n  \nnow it may be objected: “how can this world be paradise when it is obviously all screwed up?” \n  \ngood question \n  \ninstead of arguing whether the world is in fact perfect or whether it is all screwed up\, i would like to explore the sense in which it seems to me that the world is perfect \n  \nimagine\, for a moment\, a goldfinch \n  \na goldfinch is perfect \n  \na goldfinch does not need to be improved \n  \nthe very idea is absurd \n  \neverything is like the goldfinch \n  \neach one of us is a goldfinch \n  \nperfect \n  \nthis is my thesis \n  \nmy mythos \n  \num\, so where are we on our hero’s journey this evening? \n  \nokay\, so you answered the call to adventure by coming here \n  \nand your guide\, your magic helper\, on this journey through the dark wood of this evening is me \n  \nan unreliable guide! \n  \nand now we’re lost! \n  \nbut according to the unreliable guide\, the trickster-helper\, that’s okay \n  \naccording to me\, getting lost is a perfectly acceptable variant of the hero’s journey \n  \nlet’s take an example from alice in wonderland \n  \nalice says that she feels like maybe she’s lost and wonders which path she should take \n  \nand the cheshire cat asks her where she is going \n  \nand she replies that she doesn’t know \n  \nand he says: “then it doesn’t matter which path you take” \n  \nand that’s kind of like us \n  \nexcept that we don’t need to get anywhere\, because we are already here \n  \nthat’s another common story theme \n  \nthe bold adventurer travels the world and ends up returning home and finding the treasure under his or her own hearth \n  \nhearth equals heart \n  \nthat’s where our treasure is \n  \nnot far away \n  \nand what is the point of this theatrical monologue? \n  \nit is to go forth and return home \n  \nto the silence which preceded the story \n  \nthe world is always larger than our picture of the world \n  \nour descriptions and explanations are like cartoons \n  \nit’s like the difference between looking at a postcard of multnomah falls and standing in front of multnomah falls \n  \nor as mark twain said: the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning \n  \nin this analogy\, my “entertaining” theatrical monologue is the lightning bug \n  \nand what is the lightning? \n  \nyou are the lightning \n  \ni am the lightning \n  \nthe lightning is us—just as we are \n  \nwords are useful in reminding us of the inadequacy of words \n  \nthe gold that each of us came here to find\, whether we knew it or not\, is each other \n  \nwe tend to believe that the stories we tell ourselves are true \n  \nthe friendly person lives in a friendly world \n  \nthe fearful person lives in a dangerous world \n  \nwe imagine a world and then we live in that world \n  \nand who is the person who lives in this imagined world? \n  \ni think it works something like this: \n  \nwhen we are born\, we cannot speak or understand what people are saying to us \n  \nbut very quickly we get the hang of it\, and by the time we are four—even earlier—we are quite fluent in speaking and understanding the language that our parents speak \n  \nas we grow up we learn whether we are a boy or a girl\, whether we are smart or stupid\, whether we are beautiful or unattractive\, whether great things are expected of us\, or whether we’ll never amount to much \n  \nby our early twenties we should have everything figured out: \n  \nwe might be a beautiful republican woman \n  \nor an angry environmentalist \n  \nwe could be a skater\, a scientist\, or a sinner \n  \na buddhist\, a baptist\, an atheist\, a plumber\, a poet\, or a certified public accountant \n  \nwe might be fat\, depressed\, friendly\, ambitious\, lazy\, sexy\, shy\, anxious\, optimistic\, pessimistic \n  \nbut whatever we have become\, whatever we believe\, we are sort of stuck with it \n  \nit’s impressive and amazing that we can create an identity and a mythos \n  \nit’s absolutely necessary that we do this \n  \nbut it becomes a kind of prison\, from which it seems there is no escape \n  \nwe are fictional characters\, living in fictional worlds of our own creation \n  \nend of story? \n  \nwell\, sort of \n  \nbecause this is prelude to the storyless state \n  \nin addition to our very impressive ability to think and to speak\, we have the wonderful ability to be still \n  \nto be awake and alert \n  \neach one of us is nourished by a silence that has no beginning or end \n  \nnot confined within our descriptions\, explanations\, thoughts\, memories\, stories and imaginings \n  \nfearless\, loving\, carefree \n  \nnot in the world\, we are the world \n  \na world beyond our ken \n  \nwhere everything and everyone is miraculous \n  \nperfect \n  \nlike a raincloud\, a stone \n  \na goldfinch \n  \nthank you                                                                                                              \n  \n  \n  \n—Johnny Stallings
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-11-25-21/
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