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SUMMARY:Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue  2/15/22
DESCRIPTION:  \n  \nDear Beloved Community\, \nWith a deep mindful breath\, we announce the passing of our beloved teacher\, Thay Nhat Hanh\, on January 22 (January 21 in USA)\, 2022 at  \nTừ Hiếu Temple in Huế\, Vietnam\, at the age of 95. \n \n  \nOpen Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue \n  \nFebruary 15\, 2022 \n  \nThay has been the most extraordinary teacher\, whose peace\, tender compassion\, and bright wisdom has touched the lives of millions. Whether we have encountered him on retreats\, at public talks\, or through his books and online teachings–or simply through the story of his incredible life–we can see that Thay has been a true bodhisattva\, an immense force for peace and healing in the world.  Never diluting and always digging deep into the roots of Buddhist teaching\, he brings out its authentic radiance. \n  \nNow is a moment to come back to our mindful breathing and walking\, to generate the energy of peace\, compassion\, and gratitude to offer our beloved Teacher. It is a moment to take refuge in our spiritual friends\, our local  community\, and each other.  \n  \n—From the Monks and Nuns of Thich Nhat Hanh’s Order of Interbeing \n  \n  \n“At the moment my front yard is flush with brilliant winter sunshine slanting to earth beneath the clouds and at the same time it is raining gently. This paradox makes me feel that Thay is right here with me\, showing how I can feel grateful for his life as well as deep grief for his passing. We will dearly miss his personal presence\, but we have gained so much from his writings\, stories\, teachings and inclusiveness that we now carry with us. Thay calls his birth and his death day his continuation days.   \n  \nAt a Teacher’s passing in the Buddhist tradition it is honorable to address your teacher by calling his/her name\, and saying a short phrase of appreciation and best wishes.  Please write to us all or say silently to Thay what is on your heart.   \n  \nLet us each resolve to do our best over the coming days to generate the energy of mindfulness\, peace\, and compassion\, to send to our beloved Teacher. \n  \nDear Thay: I am so grateful for the way you and Sister Chan Khong have shared the Buddha’s teachings and how they have touched my life as well as the life of those around me with kindness and clarity. A lotus to you.” \n  \n—Katie Radditz  \n  \n  \n“I think of Thich Nhat Hanh as my friend. He said things that have been very helpful to me in my life. I love his sweetness\, his gentleness\, his friendliness. I know of no one more compassionate\, more peaceful\, more happy\, more free. I love his idea of “interbeing.” I love him. He left an extraordinary legacy of books and YouTube videos that we can revisit again and again\, and share with each other. Thank you thank you thank you.” \n  \n—Johnny Stallings \n  \n  \nValentine’s Day wishes to you and all your loved ones. \n  \nMake a True Home of your Love   –   (this is a Valentine from Thay) \n  \nEvery one of us is trying to find our true home. We know that our true home is inside\, and with the energy of mindfulness\, we can go back to our true home in the here and the now. Sangha is our true home. \n  \nIn Vietnamese\, the husband calls the wife “my home.” And the wife calls the husband her home. Nha toi means my house\, my home. When a gentleman is asked “Where is your wife?” he will say\, “My home is now at the post office.” (with a sweet chuckle)  And if a guest said to the wife\, “Your home is beautiful; who decorated it?” she would answer\, “It’s my home who decorated it\,” meaning\, “my husband.” When the husband calls his wife\, he says\, “Nha oi\,” my home. And she says\, “Here I am.” Nha oi. Nha toi. \n  \nWhen you are in such a relationship\, the other person is your true home. And you should be a true home for him or for her. First you need to be your own true home so that you can be the home of your beloved. We should practice so we can be a true home for ourselves and for the one that we love. How? We need the practice of mindfulness. \n  \nIn Plum Village\, every time you hear the bell\, you stop thinking\, you stop talking\, you stop doing things. You pay attention to your in-breath as you breathe in and you say\, “I listen\, I listen. This wonderful sound brings me back to my true home.” My true home is inside. My true home is in the here and the now. So practicing going home is what we do all day long\, because we are only comfortable in our true home. Our true home is available\, and we can go home every moment. Our home should be safe\, intimate\, and cozy\, and it is we who make it that way. \n  \n—Thich Nhat Hanh \n  \n  \nRich Land Between \n                   —for Perrin \n  \nIn a forest wilderness many years ago \nyou appeared to me\, and I appeared to you — \ntwo birds in separate trees singing to the sky. \n  \nWe looked down to find the ground between us  \nilluminated by a story we wanted to live. I could \nsee it with your eyes\, and you with mine. \n  \nSince then\, we have explored the land between — \nevery crumb of earth\, every stem golden by day\, \nwithering by season\, sprouting again and again \n  \nuntil it’s hard to tell where your song ends \nand mine begins. The land between\, crisscrossed \nby our devotions\, has revealed how in our life \n  \nthe gifts are many\, and the price is everything. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n  \n  \n#206 An Act of Love   –  A work of ART can help people understand the nature of their suffering\, and have insight into how to transform . . . . Writing\, making a film\, (performing a play)\, creating a work of art can be an act of love. . . . that nourishes you and nourishes others.   Michel sends a deep reflection on the effects of music – years of playing the piano- and a painting that he loved\, gifted to him by a friend who loved to paint.  “There was a time when one of the Group Dialogue member’s father came to play a cello for us. And the Oregon Poet Laureate\, Kim Stafford\, came to share his art. Each time the artist loved his art form. I believe also that each shared love with the audience for that brief session.  Even our Theatre Troupe and directors (all of them) share not only love for this art form but are sharing love through it as well – both for us in prison and for our audience.   . . . . What might our world look and feel like if we were more aware (open to) as both givers and receivers of art forms – of this opportunity to love one another deliberately?   \n  \n#212 The Heart of life – Through accepting – even embracing impermanence I find hope. Hope helps endurance through the distresses of life. So I wish everyone a dose of hope to help bolster you through distress on your journey to luminescence. May you shine brightly as the stars revealing a way for others to find their hope too.   \n  \n#217 Beyond Labels  –  As we move into 2022 I hope for everyone I know\, past and present\, that each learns to accept and release the hold of memories of past events as well as letting go of judgements of “now” going by moment by moment. May we each find love and freedom in our own right. And\, may we share that love through understanding and compassion for our fellow travelers along the way as we learn to see the “other” as part of our own self\, interconnected with the life we live now.   \n  \nWith love\, to all \n  \n—Michel Deforge \n  \n  \n#281 Loving Words — “Every time the other person does something well\, we should congratulate him or her to show our approval. This is especially true with children….” \n  \nFor seven or eight years in the mid-nineties I was a mentor in an at-risk youth program in Portland\, OR. Our kids were each 14 yrs. old\, ready to enter high school\, and in danger of dropping out —doing drugs\, skipping school\, acting out\, being promiscuous\, failing at most everything. We had to work with parents (all of whom were behaving in pretty much the same way as their kids\, except they had dropped out of school long before) as well as our youth. \n  \nMy girl\, let’s call her Amy\, lived with her father. She was very bright; at 14 she did all the accounting for her dad’s used car sales business out on 82nd Av. (I’m sure he handled the side business of drug dealing accounts). She was affectionate and attentive with me. She had all the potential to be a strong and capable young woman. \n  \nHer dad\, let’s call him Gerald\, however\, saw a different picture. When we met\, with Amy sitting there\, Gerald told me ‘the problem.’ \n  \n“She’s a whore\, just like her mother! She’ll never amount to anything\, I guarantee you. She lies and can’t be trusted about anything. She sneaks out at night to be with men—all the time. She’s screwing off in school\, when she goes\, that is. Just like her mom\, she’s dumb and she’ll drop out of school\, I know it. Maybe be able to get a bartender job like her mom\, if she’s lucky\, but…” \n  \nI was so shocked to be hearing this\, needless to say. I told him this was a different Amy than the one I knew. The girl I knew was extremely smart – didn’t she do the accounting for his business???- and she was caring and dependable\, and a lovely girl. He couldn’t even hear me. He’d constantly go back to his well-practiced rant while Amy sat there stoney-faced and silent. \n  \nThis went on for a couple months\, with me politely (and carefully\, given Gerald’s demonstrable anger and burly presence) defending Amy\, until one evening when I stopped to pick up Amy for a meeting. \n  \nShe was in tears\, crying so hard I could hardly understand her. The gist was\, Dad must be right\, and you and I are wrong. I’m just going to give up; he’s so sure he knows me\, so I must be that bad… or words to that effect. \n  \nI was speechless and stunned—but not for long. Gerald had gone out to his favorite biker bar. I knew where it was. Beyond furious\, I sped out and spun my Honda into the lineup of a dozen Harleys with the ape-hanger bars. You know there’s that adrenalin thing where you can pick up a car by its bumper to save a child trapped under the wheel? Lifting a hundred times your weight as if it were a paper placemat? That’s the way I was: I barreled into the bar\, spotted Gerald and charged over to him and his buddies. He looked up and started\, “Hey\, hey\, what are you..?” But I grabbed him by the collar and jerked him backwards and bellowed\, “Gerald\, you are going to get out of here\, and go home\, and talk to your daughter! You are going to tell her that she’s a fine young woman\, and she’s smart and talented and you are proud of her!!! I will be right there listening so you’d better say it really good\, so that she believes you! GOT it?” \n  \nHe started whining a little\, but one of the guys mumbled\, “Hey Jer\, maybe you better go on home like the nice lady says…” I yanked his shirt again and barked\, “Hear that??? Now move!” \n  \nI gave him a shove and out we went. And he went home and I listened to him tell his daughter that she was smart and helpful to his business. I glared at him\, and he added\, “And you’re a fine young woman …and I’m proud of you.” \n  \nAmy should’ve said\, “That’s bull—-\, Daddy and you know it.” But she didn’t; she threw her arms around him and told him she loved him. \n  \nThat’s how easy it is with a child. \n  \n—Jude Russell \n  \n  \n \n  \nVoices in the Forest \n  \nWind sighing in the trees\, boughs rocking and  \nwhispering a story\, the world telling us who we are.  \nThe world a song\, and we sing with the wind  \nand trees\, our voices trembling in the dark.  \nThe sun lies down behind the trees in twilight \n blue\, stars shining\, moonlight rippling rivers.  \nBirds call\, squirrels and rabbits rustle  \ntheir way to bed. We sing to our babies—  \nYou too\, you too\, time to sleep\, the stars will watch\,  \nclose your eyes\, the wind breathes our song—sleep\, baby\, sleep.  \nOwls awaken\, wings whoosh overhead\, feathers  \na blanket\, the sky a bed\, we lie down with the wind \n  \n—Deborah Buchanan\n\n \n  \nCan the New Year really be a New Year?   \n  \nThe beginning of February is a New Year celebration – in Vietnam ( called Tet) as well as China and other east Asian countries.   It is a celebration of the Lunar New Year. \n  \nOften we feel that a “new year” can provide us with a chance to begin anew with ourselves – to put into action our deepest aspirations\, and to better care for ourselves and the world. However\, many of us have also experienced that a new year does not automatically bring us closer to our aspirations. \n  \nThich Nhat Hanh teaches us how to truly begin anew with ourselves. Below is a written excerpt from his talk\, with guiding questions for your reflection: \n  \n  \nDear beloved community\, \n  \n“To begin this year anew\, we should reflect on these simple questions:\n· What have I done during the year?\n· Have I been able to produce feelings of joy and happiness during my days?\n· Have I been able to take care of the painful feelings during the year?\n· Have I been able to handle them\, to calm them down\, so that I will not be a source of suffering for myself and for other people? \nWith mindfulness\, we can produce a feeling of joy whenever we want\, because we are a practitioner. We can produce these feelings for ourselves\, and everyone we love. Have we done that this year? \nWe can learn how to calm down painful feelings\, and even transform them into something better\, like compassion\, friendship and forgiveness. Pain and pleasure are all organic\, like love and hate. If we do not know how to handle love\, it can turn into hate or anger. If we know how to handle hate and anger\, we can turn it back into understanding and love. If we do not know how to handle painful emotions\, we are going to repeat that in the new year\, and the new year will not be very new. \nThe value of the year depends on the value of acting\, of our way of life. With mindfulness\, we can improve the quality of our life\, of our days\, our months\, our years.” \n  \n—Thich Nhat Hanh \n  \n  \nWinter Poem \n  \nonce a snowflake fell \non my brow and I loved \nit so much and I kissed \nit and it was happy and called its cousins \nand brothers and a web \nof snow engulfed me then \nI reached to love them all \nand I squeezed them and they became \na spring rain and I stood perfectly \nstill and was a flower \n  \n—Nikki Giovanni \n  \n  \nOne of Thay’s favorite Meditations  – \n  \nBreathing in\, I see myself as a flower \nBreathing out\, I feel fresh. \nBreathing in\, I see myself as a Mountain \nBreathing out\, I feel solid. \nBreathing in\, I see myself as a Mountain Lake \nBreathing out\, I am calm and reflective. \nBreathing in\, I see myself as the Sky or Space \nBreathing out\, I feel free.  \n  \n  \n  \n Three poems by Heather Cahoon \n  \n1. \nCounter balance \nTo his curiosity \nThe magpie’s tail \n  \n2. \nThe shallow v-shape \nOf conviction opens \nWhere wing becomes body \n  \n3.  \nGetting firewood: \nBlaring chainsaws \nGive way \nTo thurderous crashing \nFrom the fallen trees \nBlack ants pour out \nLike blood \n  \n—From Alex Tretbar \n  \n  \nNo day is ever the same\, and no day stands still; each one moves through a different territory\, awakening new beginnings. A day moves forward in moments\, and once a moment has flickered into life\, it vanishes and is replaced by the next. It is fascinating that this is where we live\, within an emerging lacework that continuously unravels. Often a fleeting moment can hold a whole sequence of the future in distilled form: that unprepared second when you looked in a parent’s eye and saw death already beginning to loom. Or the second you noticed a softening in someone’s voice and you knew that a friendship was beginning. Or catching your partner’s gaze upon you and knowing the love that surrounded you. Each day is seeded with recognitions. \n  \n–John O’Donohue\, from “To Bless the Space Between Us” \n  \n 
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/meditation-mindfulness-dialogue-2-15-22/
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DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20220224
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20220310
DTSTAMP:20260427T063512
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LAST-MODIFIED:20220310T172428Z
UID:2584-1645660800-1646870399@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  2/24/22
DESCRIPTION:Photo #12  Bee in lilac blossoms\,  May 17\, 2020 (photos by Abe Green)  \n  \n  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nFebruary 24\, 2022 \n  \n  \nWhere the bee sucks\, there suck I:  \nIn a cowslip’s bell I lie;  \nThere I couch when owls do cry.  \nOn the bat’s back I do fly  \nAfter summer merrily.    \nMerrily\, merrily shall I live now  \nUnder the blossom that hangs on the bough. \n  \n—from The Tempest by William Shakespeare \n  \n  \nAs promised\, here are more pictures and texts from Abe Green: \n  \n  \n \nPhoto #13  Mouse friend\,  May 7\, 2019 \nThe wheel turns ceaselessly—birth and death. \n  \n  \n“Birth is not the beginning\, \nDeath is not the end.” \n  \n—Zhuangzi (Chuang Tzu) (370 BC – 287 BC) \n  \nWalt Whitman says: \n  \nThe smallest sprout shows there is really no death\, \nAnd if ever there was it led forward life\, and does not wait at the end to arrest it\, \nAnd ceased the moment life appeared. \n  \nAll goes onward and outward\, nothing collapses\, \nAnd to die is different from what any one supposed\, and luckier. \n  \nHas anyone supposed it lucky to be born? \nI hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die\, and I know it. \n  \n–from “Song of Myself” \n  \n  \n \nPhoto #14  Robin eggs\,  May 19\, 2020 \n  \n  \n  \n \nPhoto #15  Campfire at Fresno Lake\, (North Central MT.)\,  July 24\, 2020 \n  \nI once wrote a lengthy story about campfires. This is the last paragraph: \nSo here I sit by my campfire\, don’t want to “do” anything with it; it doesn’t have to be huge or roaring\, just be itself—warm and friendly. \nI want to hear its special language of hisses\, snaps\, pops\, and crackles—it’s a language made for my spirit. \nI want to smell its earthy\, woodpitch scent. \nAnd I want to stare into its inferno-like heart\, knowing what I see is a glimpse of the blazing glory of my own human heart. \nThe same bursting energy that fires the universe. \n  \n  \n  \n \nPhoto #16  Showdown Ski Area\, (Central MT.)\, October 27\, 2020 \n  \nI just love this photograph\, (though I did not take it). The juxtaposition of the dog and an awaiting ski area clothed in deep new snow—two very experiential loves! \n  \n  \n \nPhoto #17  Eye painted on stone\, December 28\, 2021 \n  \nI found the rock\, an artist friend painted the eye at my request. Live\, the piece is dynamic. I call it: “The observer being observed”! It reminds to not only witness what surrounds me\, but to also authentically witness my “self.” \n  \n  \n \nPhoto #18  Fall colors on Aspen trees\, September 26\, 2021 \n  \n“It’s the job of wise people to encourage us to perform thought experiments to challenge us about things we take for granted\, to imagine in new ways.” \n  \n—J. Stallings quoted by A. Green \n  \n  \n  \n \nPhoto #19  Grizzly Bear release\, (photo: MT. Fish & Game)\, October 17\, 2021 \n  \nI included this picture of a grizzly relocation release as an opportunity to speak of the plight of so many of Earth’s habitants. When I see a bear or bird or beetle I see no less than the same spark of life that resides within my breast. How can I wish to experience life while denying it to other life expressions? For that’s what is really going on here\, we are all—every plant\, every animal\, and every mother’s son and daughter—expressing the “gift” in our own way. \n  \n  \n \nPhoto #20  Bent tree regrowth\, October 24\, 2021 \n  \n  \nLessons from a Tree \n  \nSeed split. Root sprout. Leaf bud. \nDelve deep. Hold fast. Reach far \nSway. Lean. Bow. Loom. \n  \nClimb high. Stand tall. Last long. \nGrow. Thicken. Billow. Shade. Sow seed. \n  \nRise by pluck\, child of luck\, \nlightning-struck survivor. \n  \nBurn. Bleed. Heal. Remember. Testify. \nNest. Host. Guard. Honor. \n  \nFall. Settle. Slump. \nSurrender. Offer. Enrich. \n  \nBe duff. Enough. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n  \n  \n  \n \nPhoto #21  Sleeping Giant Skyline\, Beartooth Mtns.\, (Southcentral MT.)\, November 4\, 2021 \n  \n  \nThe Peace of Wild Things \n  \nWhen despair for the world grows in me \nand I wake in the night at the least sound \nin fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be\, \nI go and lie down where the wood drake \nrests in his beauty on the water\, and the great heron feeds. \nI come into the peace of wild things \nwho do not tax their lives with forethought \nof grief. I come into the presence of still water. \nAnd I feel above me the day-blind stars \nwaiting with their light. For a time \nI rest in the grace of the world\, and am free. \n  \n–Wendell Berry \n  \n  \n  \n \nPhoto #22  Broken Objects\, December 16\, 2021 \n  \n  \nThough sometimes unseen\, there are extraordinary possibilities in everyone. If today\, I’m a good enough example\, if I shine my light bright enough\, just maybe…I can change the world! But the world is so big. Better to focus on those I encounter in my little corner of life. \n  \n–Abe Green \n  \n  \n  \n 
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-2-24-22/
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DTSTART;TZID=America/Los_Angeles:20220227T150000
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CREATED:20220226T193122Z
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SUMMARY:Bibliophiles Unanimous!  2/27/22
DESCRIPTION:Woman Reading at a Desk (c. 1910) by Thomas P. Anshutz \n  \n  \nBeloved Bibliophiles! This week\, Sunday\, February 27th\, at 3 pm (PST)\, our theme is “Favorite Fictional Characters.” Here’s the link for the Zoom gathering: \n  \n  \nhttps://us02web.zoom.us/j/87614013058 \n  \n  \n  \nI hope to see you there! \n  \npeace\, love & happiness \n  \nJohnny \n 
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/bibliophiles-unanimous-2-27-22/
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