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SUMMARY:Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue  3/15/22
DESCRIPTION:“There is One Holy Book\, the sacred manuscript of nature\,\nthe only scripture which can enlighten the reader.” ~ Hazrat Inayat Khan \n  \n  \nOpen Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue \n  \n March 15\, 2022 \n  \n(These are some excerpts from Michel’s meditation journal. The numbers refer to sections from Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh.) (JS) \n  \nFebruary 15\, 2022  #239  Peace Permeates \n  \nIt’s true! Whatever we cultivate in mindfulness will permeate the life and body. It is also true that physical states (feelings) can affect the mindfulness. This is why I believe there is value in any type of mindfulness practice. Currently I strive to practice during moments on the exercise bike\, and do nothing else while I sit there. Maybe formal sitting isn’t for everyone—(it is the easiest and quickest path I’ve learned)—but learning to find some idle time to focus on the breath\, while not attending to every thought whim arising each moment\, can be helpful. Lately\, I’ve referenced recollections of childhood: those times on sunny summer days\, laying on a lawn beach\, etc.\, watching clouds pass by. Thoughts can become the clouds. Let them go on. \n  \nFebruary 16\, 2022  #240  Rest Naturally \n  \nI would take Thây’s allusion one step further. I would imagine myself as that pebble sitting down to rest in sleep. These images sound like a very restful contemplation for meditation practice\, or sleep—which can be a form of meditation\, I’ve heard. \n  \nThe beauty of this image\, to me\, is the pebble does nothing. It is acted upon\, and eventually comes to a state of rest\, all without any self effort. Once at rest\, more nothing; it still doesn’t do. It just is.  I like allowing thoughts to be like water\, flowing by with no affect or input. I think emulating the small stone is valuable. \n  \nI wonder: how far this allusion-metaphor-image can be interpreted and applied before the analogy breaks down? Still\, I like this idea of imagining myself (my mind?) as the small stone resting as clouds\, air\, rain\, water\, a river\, living beings (various forms of thought?) simply pass by\, while I continue to rest unaffected by all the passersby\, or the melee of thoughts passes on without my interaction or attachment. \n  \nFebruary 23\, 2022  #245  The Sangha Body of Peace \n  \nIt has been over two years since we last gathered\, here at TRCI\, for our weekly dialogues and since we’ve been able to function for each other as a sangha. We’ve been doing so remotely. In this two years\, several have moved on to their next phase\, whatever and wherever that may be. All of us\, I’m guessing\, look forward to meeting with those of us remaining\, and for our dialogues to resume. I wonder what this may be likened to and how we\, the remnant or those departed\, may feel about being where we are when that happens. Will everyone experience unity of sangha\, or some\, maybe? I don’t know; it’s a personal experience. \n  \nI trust if we remember Thây’s teaching on mindfulness—“I am here for you”—and apply it to be mindfully present wherever we are at the reunification of our weekly “love feat\,” then those present (and hopefully those afar\, lending their light) will give/receive the most from that meeting of our sangha again. I look forward to that day myself. \n  \nWith love\, be well! \n  \n—Michel Deforge \n* \n  \nin my old age \ni have become a connoisseur \nof perfect moments \n  \nSome people say\, “No one’s perfect\,” or “Nothing is perfect\,” but\, if you look at it a certain way\, everyone is perfect and every thing is perfect. We’ve all drunk a lot of water in our life\, but sometimes we stop and notice that the glass of water in our hand is the most beautiful thing we have ever seen. We are amazed by water. It’s impossible. It’s wet. We are made of water. Without air\, without water\, without the sun\, there could be no life on this planet. Without our body\, without our eyes and brain and skin and nervous system we couldn’t see or touch or taste water. We couldn’t know or imagine. When I was young\, I knew everything. The older I get\, the more bewildered I’ve become. I’m dumbfounded by the beauty and unlikelihood of absolutely everything. \n  \n(After writing the above\, I asked Mr. Google: “What percentage of the human body is water?” Here is the reply:) \n  \n60% \n  \nUp to 60% of the human adult body is water. According to H.H. Mitchell\, Journal of Biological Chemistry 158\, the brain and heart are composed of 73% water\, and the lungs are about 83% water. The skin contains 64% water\, muscles and kidneys are 79%\, and even the bones are watery: 31%. \n  \n(From the U.S. Geological Survey website article: “The Water in You: Water and the Human Body.” The article is highly entertaining. Here’s the link:) \n  \nhttps://www.usgs.gov/special-topics/water-science-school/science/water-you-water-and-human-body \n  \n—Johnny Stallings \n* \n  \n#302  No Ideas \n  \n“When we look deeply\, we see that all our ideas about our body and about our mind are inaccurate. We have to practice no ideas…” \n“When we can stop every idea in our mind…” \n“When we can see the emptiness of each thing…” \n  \nBut aren’t ‘looking deeply’ and ‘when we can see’ just other ways of saying ‘thinking\,’ and having ideas about? Isn’t the very practice of “practicing no ideas” an idea? An act of thinking? A conscious process of the mind? Do you acknowledge that it’s an idea to “practice no idea\,” and that it is a necessary step to get beyond to get to emptiness?  \n  \nWe might use a mantra in order to go beyond no idea? But the derivation of mantra goes back to Sanskrit – sacred counsel\, formula; and back to Latin – mens: mind. From manyate: he thinks. Hmmm\, that sure sounds like mind>thinking>idea to me… \n  \nAm I overthinking this no idea/emptiness…idea? Sheesh. I have no idea….Hey! I think I’m getting somewhere with this.  \n  \n—Jude Russell \n* \n  \nIn life I have done things that were detestable. And in life we have all at times been faced with choosing the path. But which path do we take—not knowing where any of them lead? I had been lost for so long\, and lost so much\, and so many of those things can never be replaced. But some of them will never fail\, and that is the love I have for them—lost and found and kept. Unconditional love is there for those that need it. People are the real treasure in love\, and those relationships are what is most important. Love is free and we should always freely give love unconditionally. It is a simple seed and if it is allowed to grow unchecked it is gladly evasive. \n  \n—Rocky Hutchinson \n* \n  \nOld Spruce Sets the Clock \n  \nI’ve been running daylight saving time \nsince I was a sprig\, a sprout\, a sapling \nhoarding every filament of illumination \nthat made it through these shadows \nto find my reaching hands open wide. \nDon’t ask me about frenzy–I’ve been \nslow-timing for a hundred years\, and \nlook where that has got me\, rooted \ndeeper\, yearning higher\, greener\, \nolder\, thick and sturdy\, easy with \nroot and bud\, snow and starlight.  \nIn this war\, one could do worse. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nMy meditation lately consists of viewing what I look like by someone else’s eyes and mind. How do I act\, talk\, walk\, sit\, eat? How do I treat others? This gives me self awareness. It is sometimes uncomfortable to view myself outside of myself\, but it does bring me perspective. Thanks everyone for your thoughts and writings. \n  \n—Brandon Gillespie \n* \n  \nFor a joyous and heart opening experience\, spend a few breaths looking closely at these spirals (on page 1) of nature’s energy unfolding.  \n  \nMarch has many celebrations—International Women’s Day\, Spring Equinox\, Earth Day\, Candlemas and Nancy Scharbach’s Birthday! \n  \nAs Spring approaches I am delighted by the polka dots of nature—soft rain drops on the pavement\, along with pink petals from the cherry trees. Pussy willows in bud\, raindrops clinging to the leafless twigs after a rain. But there is also the spiral when I look closely at the ferns sending out their new shoots. \n  \nIt is also the time of Fasting after a last winter Feast. “Carnival” means going without meat\, or food in general\, until the gardens are producing once again. Through eons and within all cultures and religions\, the need for Lent (or sacrifice\, and changing one’s habits to survive) has been a Spring ritual. Blessing the Earth for sustenance. \n  \nIn Buddhist practice\, rather than a forty day fast\, the Five Precepts are recited once a week\, to help change unkind and unhealthy elements of our “habit energy\,” as Thay calls it\, with the intent to live a happier and ethical life. \n  \nRather than making these sound like commandments\, Thich Nhat Hanh over the years has rewritten the precepts so they help us focus on practicing awareness and kindness\, for ourselves\, for others\, and for the planet. \n  \nHere are Thay’s latest rendition with his commentary. You may want to take one to heart for a week or two\, then reflect on your own habit energy\, and what changes you might see from paying attention. Maybe there is something you want to give up and you would like your community to support. \n  \nIn peace and love\,  \n  \n—Katie Radditz \n  \nThe Five Mindfulness Trainings are one of the most concrete ways to practice mindfulness. They are nonsectarian\, and their nature is universal. They are true practices of compassion and understanding. All spiritual traditions have their equivalent to the Five Mindfulness Trainings. \n  \nThe first training is to protect life\, to decrease violence in oneself\, in the family and in society. The second training is to practice social justice\, generosity\, not stealing and not exploiting other living beings. The third is the practice of responsible sexual behavior in order to protect individuals\, couples\, families and children. The fourth is the practice of deep listening and loving speech to restore communication and reconcile. The fifth is about mindful consumption\, to help us not bring toxins and poisons into our body or mind. \n  \nThe Five Mindfulness Trainings are based on the precepts developed during the time of the Buddha to be the foundation of practice for the entire lay practice community.  \n  \nI have translated these precepts for modern times\, because mindfulness is at the foundation of each one of them. With mindfulness\, we  are modern times\, because mindfulness is at the foundation of each one of them. With mindfulness\, we are aware of what is going on in our bodies\, our feelings\, our minds and the world\, and we avoid doing harm to ourselves and others. Mindfulness protects us\, our families and our society. When we are mindful\, we can see that by refraining from doing one thing\, we can prevent another thing from happening. We arrive at our own unique insight. It is not something imposed on us by an outside authority. Practicing the mindfulness trainings\, therefore\, helps us be more calm and concentrated\, and brings more insight and enlightenment. \n  \nThe Five Mindfulness Trainings \n  \nThe Five Mindfulness Trainings represent the Buddhist vision for a global spirituality and ethic. They are a concrete expression of the Buddha’s teachings on the Four Noble Truths and the Noble Eightfold Path\, the path of right understanding and true love\, leading to healing\, transformation\, and happiness for ourselves and for the world. To practice the Five Mindfulness Trainings is to cultivate the insight of interbeing\, or Right View\, which can remove all discrimination\, intolerance\, anger\, fear\, and despair. If we live according to the Five Mindfulness Trainings\, we are already on the path of a bodhisattva. Knowing we are on that path\, we are not lost in confusion about our life in the present or in fears about the future. \n  \nReverence For Life \n  \nAware of the suffering caused by the destruction of life\, I am committed to cultivating the insight of interbeing and compassion and learning ways to protect the lives of people\, animals\, plants\, and minerals. I am determined not to kill\, not to let others kill\, and not to support any act of killing in the world\, in my thinking\, or in my way of life. Seeing that harmful actions arise from anger\, fear\, greed\, and intolerance\, which in turn come from dualistic and discriminative thinking\, I will cultivate openness\, non-discrimination\, and non-attachment to views in order to transform violence\, fanaticism\, and dogmatism in myself and in the world. \n  \nTrue Happiness\n \n  \nAware of the suffering caused by exploitation\, social injustice\, stealing\, and oppression\, I am committed to practicing generosity in my thinking\, speaking\, and acting. I am determined not to steal and not to possess anything that should belong to others; and I will share my time\, energy\, and material resources with those who are in need. I will practice looking deeply to see that the happiness and suffering of others are not separate from my own happiness and suffering; that true happiness is not possible without understanding and compassion; and that running after wealth\, fame\, power and sensual pleasures can bring much suffering and despair. I am aware that happiness depends on my mental attitude and not on external conditions\, and that I can live happily in the present moment simply by remembering that I already have more than enough conditions to be happy. I am committed to practicing Right Livelihood so that I can help reduce the suffering of living beings on Earth and stop contributing to climate change. \n  \nTrue Love\n \n  \nAware of the suffering caused by sexual misconduct\, I am committed to cultivating responsibility and learning ways to protect the safety and integrity of individuals\, couples\, families\, and society. Knowing that sexual desire is not love\, and that sexual activity motivated by craving always harms myself as well as others\, I am determined not to engage in sexual relations without true love and a deep\, long-term commitment made known to my family and friends. I will do everything in my power to protect children from sexual abuse and to prevent couples and families from being broken by sexual misconduct. Seeing that body and mind are one\, I am committed to learning appropriate ways to take care of my sexual energy and cultivating loving kindness\, compassion\, joy and inclusiveness – which are the four basic elements of true love – for my greater happiness and the greater happiness of others. Practicing true love\, we know that we will continue beautifully into the future. \n  \nLoving Speech and Deep Listening\n \n  \nAware of the suffering caused by unmindful speech and the inability to listen to others\, I am committed to cultivating loving speech and compassionate listening in order to relieve suffering and to promote reconciliation and peace in myself and among other people\, ethnic and religious groups\, and nations. Knowing that words can create happiness or suffering\, I am committed to speaking truthfully using words that inspire confidence\, joy\, and hope. When anger is manifesting in me\, I am determined not to speak. I will practice mindful breathing and walking in order to recognize and to look deeply into my anger. I know that the roots of anger can be found in my wrong perceptions and lack of understanding of the suffering in myself and in the other person. I will speak and listen in a way that can help myself and the other person to transform suffering and see the way out of difficult situations. I am determined not to spread news that I do not know to be certain and not to utter words that can cause division or discord. I will practice Right Diligence to nourish my capacity for understanding\, love\, joy\, and inclusiveness\, and gradually transform anger\, violence\, and fear that lie deep in my consciousness. \n  \nNourishment and Healing\n \n  \nAware of the suffering caused by unmindful consumption\, I am committed to cultivating good health\, both physical and mental\, for myself\, my family\, and my society by practicing mindful eating\, drinking\, and consuming. I will practice looking deeply into how I consume the Four Kinds of Nutriments\, namely edible foods\, sense impressions\, volition\, and consciousness. I am determined not to gamble\, or to use alcohol\, drugs\, or any other products which contain toxins\, such as certain websites\, electronic games\, TV programs\, films\, magazines\, books\, and conversations. I will practice coming back to the present moment to be in touch with the refreshing\, healing and nourishing elements in me and around me\, not letting regrets and sorrow drag me back into the past nor letting anxieties\, fear\, or craving pull me out of the present moment. I am determined not to try to cover up loneliness\, anxiety\, or other suffering by losing myself in consumption. I will contemplate interbeing and consume in a way that preserves peace\, joy\, and well-being in my body and consciousness\, and in the collective body and consciousness of my family\, my society and the Earth. \n  \n—from Happiness: Essential Mindfulness Practices by Thich Nhat Hanh (pp. 35-38) \n* \n  \nSome quotes on Jeff K’s mind lately: \n  \n’’Be patient\, your future will come to you and lie down at your feet like a dog who knows and loves you no matter what you are” \n  \n—Ted Chiang Stories of Your Life and Others\, p. 278 \n  \n”Found a dollar and had a slice of pizza… One day closer to death’’  \n& \n”We come into this world alone… Then we die alone… But\, in the meantime… Snacks.’’ \n  \n—Adult Swim \n  \nOur universe might have slid into equilibrium emitting nothing more than a quiet hiss. The fact that it spawned such plenitude is a miracle\, one that is matched only by your universe giving rise to you. Though I am long dead as you read this\, explorer\, I offer to you a valediction. Contemplate the marvel that is existence\, and rejoice that you are able to do so. I feel I have the right to tell you this because\, as I am inscribing these words\, I am doing the same.  \n  \n—Ted Chiang\,  Exhalation\, p. 57 \n  \n”Artists are magical helpers. Evoking symbols and motifs that connect us to our deeper selves\, they can help us along the heroic journey of our own lives.”  \n  \n—Joseph Campbell \n  \n—Jeff Kuehner
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/meditation-mindfulness-dialogue-3-15-22/
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SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  4/7/22
DESCRIPTION:  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nApril 7\, 2022 \n  \nMy dad loved the poems of Carl Sandburg. Sometimes I take the heavy tome The Complete Poems of CARL SANDBURG off the shelf\, in search of treasures. When I  open the book\, I always feel that my dad is by my side. \n  \n  \nTENTATIVE (FIRST MODEL) \nDEFINITIONS OF POETRY \n  \n1 Poetry is a projection across silence of cadences arranged to break that silence with definite intentions of echoes\, syllables\, wave lengths. \n  \n2   Poetry is an art practised with the terribly plastic material of human language. \n  \n3 Poetry is the report of a nuance between two moments\, when people say\, ‘Listen!’ and ‘Did you see it?’ ‘Did you hear it? What was it?’ \n  \n4 Poetry is the tracing of the trajectories of a finite sound to the infinite points of its echoes. \n  \n5 Poetry is a sequence of dots and dashes\, spelling depths\, crypts\, crosslights\, and moon wisps. \n  \n6 Poetry is a puppet-show\, where riders of skyrockets and divers of sea fathoms gossip about the sixth sense and the fourth dimension. \n  \n7   Poetry is a plan for a slit in the face of a bronze fountain goat and the path of fresh drinking water. \n  \n8 Poetry is a slipknot tightened around a time-beat of one thought\, two thoughts\, and a last interweaving thought there is not a number for. \n  \n9 Poetry is an echo asking a shadow dancer to be a partner. \n  \n10 Poetry is the journal of a sea animal living on land\, wanting to fly in the air. \n  \n11 Poetry is a series of explanations of life\, fading off into horizons too swift for explanations. \n  \n12 Poetry is a fossil rock-print of a fin and a wing\, with an illegible oath between. \n  \n13 Poetry is an exhibit of one pendulum connecting with other and unseen pendulums inside and outside the one seen. \n  \n14 Poetry is a sky dark with wild-duck migration. \n  \n15 Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and unknowable. \n  \n16 Poetry is any page from a sketchbook of outlines or a doorknob with thumb- prints of dust\, blood\, dreams. \n  \n17 Poetry is a type-font design for an alphabet of fun\, hate\, love\, death. \n  \n18 Poetry is the cipher key to the five mystic wishes packed in a hollow silver bullet fed to a flying fish. \n  \n19 Poetry is a theorem of a yellow-silk handkerchief knotted with riddles\, sealed in a balloon tied to the tail of a kite flying in a white wind against a blue sky in spring. \n  \n20 Poetry is a dance music measuring buck-and-wing follies along with the gravest and stateliest dead-marches. \n  \n21 Poetry is a sliver of the moon lost in the belly of a golden frog. \n  \n22 Poetry is a mock of a cry at finding a million dollars and a mock of a laugh at losing it. \n  \n23 Poetry is the silence and speech between a wet struggling root of a flower and a sunlit blossom of that flower. \n  \n24 Poetry is the harnessing of the paradox of earth cradling life and then entombing it. \n  \n25 Poetry is the opening and closing of a door\, leaving those who look through to guess about what is seen during a moment. \n  \n26 Poetry is a fresh morning spider-web telling a story of moonlit hours of weaving and waiting during a night. \n  \n27 Poetry is a statement of a series of equations\, with numbers and symbols changing like the changes of mirrors\, pools\, skies\, the only never- changing sign being the sign of infinity. \n  \n28 Poetry is a packsack of invisible keepsakes. \n  \n29 Poetry is a section of river-fog and moving boat-lights\, delivered between bridges and whistles\, so one says\, ‘Oh!’ and another\, ‘How?’ \n  \n30 Poetry is a kinetic arrangement of static syllables. \n  \n31 Poetry is the arithmetic of the easiest way and the primrose path\, matched up with foam-flanked horses\, bloody knuckles\, and bones\, on the hard ways to the stars. \n  \n32 Poetry is a shuffling of boxes of illusions buckled with a strap of facts. \n  \n33 Poetry is an enumeration of birds\, bees\, babies\, butterflies\, bugs\, bambinos\, babayagas\, and bipeds\, beating their way up bewildering bastions. \n  \n34 Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away. \n  \n35 Poetry is the establishment of a metaphorical link between white butterfly- wings and the scraps of torn love-letters. \n  \n36 Poetry is the achievement of the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits. \n  \n37 Poetry is a mystic\, sensuous mathematics of fire\, smoke-stacks\, waffles\, pansies\, people\, and purple sunsets. \n  \n38 Poetry is the capture of a picture\, a song\, or a flair\, in a deliberate prism of words. \n  \n—Carl Sandburg\, from Good Morning\, America (The Complete Poems of Carl Sandburg\, pp. 317-319) \n  \n  \nCarl Sandburg wrote Rootabaga Stories for his daughters. Here are a couple of them—(reading aloud recommended): \n  \n  \nThe Potato Face Blind Man  \nWho Lost the Diamond Rabbit on  \nHis Gold Accordion \n  \nThere was a Potato Face Blind Man used to play an accordion on the Main Street corner nearest the postoffice in the Village of Liver-and-Onions. \n  \nAny Ice Today came along and said\, “It looks like it used to be an 18 carat gold accordion with rich pawnshop diamonds in it; it looks like it used to be a grand accordion once and not so grand now.” \n  \n“Oh\, yes\, oh\, yes\, it was gold all over on the outside\,” said the Potato Face Blind Man\, “and there was a diamond rabbit next to the handles on each side\, two diamond rabbits.” \n  \n“How do you mean diamond rabbits?” Any Ice Today asked. \n  \n“Ears\, legs\, head\, feet\, ribs\, tail\, all fixed out in diamonds to make a nice rabbit with his diamond chin on his diamond toenails. When I play good pieces so people cry hearing my accordion music\, then I put my fingers over and feel of the rabbit’s diamond chin on his diamond toenails\, ‘Attaboy\, li’l bunny\, attaboy\, li’l bunny.’” \n  \n“Yes I hear you talking but it is like dream talking. I wonder why your accordion looks like somebody stole it and took it to a pawnshop and took it out and somebody stole it again and took it to a pawnshop and took it out and somebody stole it again. And they kept on stealing it and taking it out of the pawnshop and stealing it again till the gold wore off so it looks like a used-to-be-yesterday.” \n  \n“Oh\, yes\, o-h\, y-e-s\, you are right. It is not like the accordion it used to be. It knows more knowledge than it used to know just the same as this Potato Face Blind Man knows more knowledge than he used to know.” \n  \n“Tell me about it\,” said Any Ice Today. \n  \n“It is simple. If a blind man plays an accordion on the street to make people cry it makes them sad and when they are sad the gold goes away off the accordion. And if a blind man goes to sleep because his music is full of sleepy songs like the long wind in a sleepy valley\, then while the blind man is sleeping the diamonds in the diamond rabbit all go away. I play a sleepy song and go to sleep and I wake up and the diamond ear of the diamond rabbit is gone. I play another sleepy song and go to sleep and wake up and the diamond tail of the diamond rabbit is gone. After a while all the diamond rabbits are gone\, even the diamond chin sitting on the diamond toenails of the rabbits next to the handles of the accordion\, even those are gone.” \n  \n“Is there anything I can do?” asked Any Ice Today. \n  \n“I do it myself\,” said the Potato Face Blind Man. “If I am too sorry I just play the sleepy song of the long wind going up the sleepy valleys. And that carries me away where I have time and money to dream about the new wonderful accordions and postoffices where everybody that gets a letter and everybody that don’t get a letter stops and remembers the Potato Face Blind Man.” \n  \n  \n  \nHow the Potato Face Blind Man Enjoyed \nHimself on a Fine Spring Morning \n  \nOn a Friday morning when the flummywisters were yodeling yisters high in the elm trees\, the Potato Face Blind Man came down to his work sitting at the corner nearest the postoffice in the Village of Liver-and-Onions and playing his gold-that-used-to-be accordion for the pleasure of the ears of the people going into the postoffice to see if they got any letters for themselves or their families. \n  \n“It is a good day\, a lucky day\,” said the Potato Face Blind Man\, “because for a beginning I have heard high in the elm trees the flummywisters yodeling their yisters in the long branches of the lingering leaves. So—so—I am going to listen to myself playing on my accordion the same yisters\, the same yodels\, drawing them like long glad breathings out of my glad accordion\, long breathings of the branches of the lingering leaves.” \n  \nAnd he sat down in his chair. On the sleeve of his coat he tied a sign\, “I Am Blind Too.” On the top button of his coat he hung a little thimble. On the bottom button of his coat he hung a tin copper cup. On the middle button he hung a wooden mug. By the side of him on the left side on the sidewalk he put a galvanized iron washtub\, and on the right side an aluminum dishpan. \n  \n“It is a good day\, a lucky day\, and I am sure many people will stop and remember the Potato Face Blind Man\,” he sang to himself like a little song as he began running his fingers up and down the keys of the accordion like the yisters of the lingering leaves in the elm trees. \n  \nThen came Pick Ups. Always it happened Pick Ups asked questions and wished to know. And so this is how the questions and answers ran when the Potato Face filled the ears of Pick Ups with explanations. \n  \n“What is the piece you are playing on the keys of your accordion so fast sometimes\, so slow sometimes\, so sad some of the moments\, so glad some of the moments?” \n  \n“It is the song the mama flummywisters sing when they button loose the winter underwear of the baby flummywisters and sing: \n  \n‘Fly\, you little flummies\, \nSing\, you little wisters.’” \n  \n“And why do you have a little thimble on the top button of your coat?” \n  \n“That is for the dimes to be put in. Some people see it and say\, ‘Oh\, I must put in a whole thimbleful of dimes.’” \n  \n“And the tin copper cup?” \n  \n“That is for the base ball players to stand off ten feet and throw in nickels and pennies. The one who throws the most into the cup will be the most lucky.” \n  \n“And the wooden mug?” \n  \n“There is a hole in the bottom of it. The hole is as big as the bottom. The nickel goes in and comes out again. It is for the very poor people who wish to give me a nickel and yet get the nickel back.” \n  \n“The aluminum dishpan and the galvanized iron washtub—what are they doing by the side of you on both sides on the sidewalk?” \n  \n“Sometime maybe it will happen everybody who goes into the postoffice and comes out will stop and pour out all their money\, because they might get afraid their money is no good any more. If such a happening ever happens then it will be nice for the people to have some place to pour their money. Such is the explanation why you see the aluminum dishpan and galvanized iron tub.” \n  \n“Explain your sign—why is it\, ‘I Am Blind Too.’” \n  \n“Oh\, I am sorry to explain to you\, Pick Ups\, why this is so which. Some of the people who pass by here going into the postoffice and coming out\, they have eyes—but they see nothing with their eyes. They look where they are going and they get where they wish to get\, but they forget why they came and they do not know how to come away. They are my blind brothers. It is for them I have the sign that reads\, ‘I Am Blind Too.’” \n  \n“I have my ears full of explanations and I thank you\,” said Pick Ups. \n  \n“Good-by\,” said the Potato Face Blind Man as he began drawing long breathings like lingering leaves out of the accordion—along with the song the mama flummywisters sing when they button loose the winter underwear of the baby flummywisters. \n  \n  \nHere are a couple of my dad’s and my favorite Carl Sandburg poems: \n  \n  \nTHE RIGHT TO GRIEF \nTo Certain Poets About to Die \n  \nTAKE your fill of intimate remorse\, perfumed sorrow\, \nOver the dead child of a millionaire\, \nAnd the pity of Death refusing any check on the bank \nWhich the millionaire might order his secretary to scratch off \nAnd get cashed. \n  \n  Very well\, \nYou for your grief and I for mine. \nLet me have a sorrow my own if I want to. \n  \nI shall cry over the dead child of a stockyards hunky. \nHis job is sweeping blood off the floor. \nHe gets a dollar seventy cents a day when he works \nAnd it’s many tubs of blood he shoves out with a broom day by day. \n  \nNow his three year old daughter \nIs in a white coffin that cost him a week’s wages. \nEvery Saturday night he will pay the undertaker fifty cents till the debt is wiped out.  \n  \nThe hunky and his wife and the kids \nCry over the pinched face almost at peace in the white box. \n  \nThey remember it was scrawny and ran up high doctor bills. \nThey are glad it is gone for the rest of the family now will have more to eat and wear. \n  \nYet before the majesty of Death they cry around the coffin \nAnd wipe their eyes with red bandanas and sob when the priest says\, “God have mercy on us all.” \n  \nI have a right to feel my throat choke about this. \nYou take your grief and I mine—see? \nTo-morrow there is no funeral and the hunky goes back to his job sweeping blood off the floor at a dollar seventy cents a day. \nAll he does all day long is keep on shoving hog blood ahead of him with a broom. \n  \n  \n  \nHAPPINESS \n  \n  \nI ASKED the professors who teach the meaning of life to tell me what is happiness. \n  \nAnd I went to famous executives who boss the work of thousands of men. \n  \nThey all shook their heads and gave me a smile as though I was trying to fool with them. \n  \nAnd then one Sunday afternoon I wandered out along the Desplaines river \n  \nAnd I saw a crowd of Hungarians under the trees with their women and children and a keg of beer and an accordion. \n  \n—Carl Sandburg (1878-1967) \n  \n  \nSince the Potato Face Blind Man plays the accordian\, and the Hungarians on the banks of the Desplaines River do likewise\, perhaps it would be good to include links to some rockin’ accordian music: \n  \nThose Darn Accordians play Jimi Hendrix: \nhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TzP-G9cVc7k \n  \nFlaco Jimenez\, Mingo Saldivar\, Pete Ybarra\, David Farias & David Lee Garza: \nhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zc1ZXm-rFLA \n  \nClifton Chenier & the Louisiana Ramblers play “Tighten Up”: \nhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zc1ZXm-rFLA
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-4-7-22/
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