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DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20220901
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20221006
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SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  9/1/22
DESCRIPTION:The River of Life by William Blake \n  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n\nSeptember 1\, 2022 \n  \nWilliam Blake \n  \nI must Create a System or be enslav’d by another Man’s. \n—William Blake \n  \nWilliam Blake might be the most imaginative person who ever lived. Along with Wordsworth\, Coleridge\, Keats and Shelley\, he is considered one of the major English Romantic poets. His paintings\, drawings and etchings are enshrined in museums around the world. He is a Christian\, but his Christianity is unique to him. In the English poetic tradition\, he saw himself as part of a tradition that included Chaucer\, Shakespeare and Milton. As a prophet\, he saw himself as in the tradition of Isaiah\, Ezekiel\, Jesus\, John of Patmos\, Dante and Milton. He created his own mythology. \n  \nIn issue #16 (July 2\, 2020) of peace\, love\, happiness & understanding\, I included three poems by Blake: “Infant Joy\,” “Laughing Song\,” and “The School Boy.” These poems illustrated the theme of innocence and experience that I was exploring in that issue—especially how we lose the innocence of our childhood\, and the question of whether we can regain that lost innocence  \n  \n(https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-7-2-20/). \n  \n \n  \nHere are some of my favorite poems\, quotes and writings of William Blake: \n  \nLove to faults is always blind; \nAlways is to joy inclin’d\, \nLawless\, wing’d and unconfin’d\, \nAnd breaks all chains from every mind. \n* \n  \nArt Degraded\, Imagination Denied\, War Governed the Nations. \n* \n  \nChildren of the future Age \nReading this indignant page\, \nKnow that in a former time \nLove! sweet Love! was thought a crime. \n* \n  \nThe GARDEN of LOVE \n  \nI went to the Garden of Love\, \nAnd saw what I never had seen: \nA Chapel was built in the midst\, \nWhere I used to play on the green. \n  \nAnd the gates of this Chapel were shut\, \nAnd “Thou shalt not” writ over the door; \nSo I turn’d to the Garden of Love \nThat so many sweet flowers bore; \n  \nAnd I saw it was filled with graves\, \nAnd tomb-stones where flowers should be; \nAnd Priests in black gowns were walking their rounds\, \nAnd binding with briars my joys and desires. \n* \n  \n \n  \nTo see a World in a Grain of Sand \nAnd a Heaven in a Wild Flower\, \nHold infinity in the palm of your hand \nAnd Eternity in an hour. \n* \n  \nSome aphorisms from “THE MARRIAGE of HEAVEN and HELL”: \n  \nThe road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom. \nHe whose face gives no light\, shall never become a star. \nEternity is in love with the productions of time. \nIf the fool would persist in his folly he would become wise. \nPrisons are built with stones of Law\, Brothels with bricks of Religion. \nOne thought fills immensity. \nThe thankful receiver bears a plentiful harvest. \nThe soul of sweet delight can never be defil’d. \nAs the catterpiller chooses the fairest leaves to lay her eggs on\, so the priest lays his curse on the fairest joys. \nExuberance is Beauty. \n* \n  \n \n  \nFrom the Preface to Blake’s poem “Milton”: \n  \nShakespeare & Milton were both curb’d by the general malady & infection from the silly Greek & Latin slaves of the Sword. \nRouze up\, O Young Men of the New Age! set your foreheads against the ignorant Hirelings! For we have Hirelings in the Camp\, the Court & the University\, who would\, if they could\, for ever depress Mental & prolong Corporeal War. \n* \n  \nThe Little Vagabond \n  \nDear Mother\, dear Mother\, the Church is cold\, \nBut the Ale-house is healthy & pleasant & warm: \nBesides I can tell where I am us’d well\, \nSuch usage in heaven will never do well. \n  \nBut if at the Church they would give us some Ale\, \nAnd a pleasant fire our souls to regale\, \nWe’d sing and we’d pray all the live-long day\, \nNor ever once wish from the Church to stray. \n  \nThen the Parson might preach\, & drink\, & sing\, \nAnd we’d be as happy as birds in the spring; \nAnd modest dame Lurch\, who is always at Church\, \nWould not have bandy children\, nor fasting\, nor birch. \n  \nAnd God\, like a father rejoicing to see \nHis children as pleasant and happy as he\, \nWould have no more quarrel with the Devil or the Barrel\, \nBut kiss him\, & give him both drink and apparel. \n* \n  \nFrom “THE MARRIAGE of HEAVEN and HELL”: \n  \nThe ancient Poets animated all sensible objects with Gods or Geniuses\, calling them by the names and adorning them with the properties of woods\, rivers\, mountains\, lakes\, cities\, nations\, and whatever their enlarged & numerous senses could perceive.  \nAnd particularly they studied the genius of each city & country\, placing it under its mental deity; \nTill a system was formed\, which some took advantage of\, & enslav’d the vulgar by attempting to realize or abstract the mental deities from their objects: thus began Priesthood; \nChoosing forms of worship from poetic tales. \nAnd at length they pronounc’d that the Gods had order’d such things. \nThus men forgot that All deities reside in the human breast. \n* \n  \nFrom Enion’s lament from “The Four Zoas\, Night the Second”: \n  \n“…What is the price of Experience? do men buy it for a song? \nOr wisdom for a dance in the street? No\, it is bought with the price \nOf all that a man hath\, his house\, his wife\, his children. \nWisdom is sold in the desolate market where none come to buy\, \nAnd in the wither’d field where the farmer plows for bread in vain. \nIt is an easy thing to triumph in the summer’s sun \nAnd in the vintage & to sing on the waggon loaded with corn. \nIt is an easy thing to talk of patience to the afflicted\, \nTo speak the laws of prudence to the houseless wanderer\, \nTo listen to the hungry raven’s cry in wintry season \nWhen the red blood is fill’d with wine & with the marrow of lambs. \nIt is an easy thing to laugh at wrathful elements\, \nTo hear the dog howl at the wintry door\, the ox in the slaughter house moan; \nTo see a god on every wind & a blessing on every blast; \nTo hear sounds of love in the thunder storm that destroys our enemies’ house; \nTo rejoice in the blight that covers his field\, & the sickness that cuts off his children\, \nWhile our olive & vine sing & laugh round our door\, & our children bring fruits & flowers. \nThen the groan & the dolor are quite forgotten\, & the slave grinding at the mill\, \nAnd the captive in chains\, & the poor in the prison\, & the soldier in the field \nWhen the shatter’d bone hath laid him groaning among the happier dead. \nIt is an easy thing to rejoice in the tents of prosperity: \nThus could I sing & thus rejoice: but it is not so with me.” \n* \n  \nTwo passages from “A Vision of the Last Judgment”: \n  \nMen are admitted into Heaven not because they have curbed & govern’d their Passions or have No Passions\, but because they have Cultivated their Understandings. The Treasures of Heaven are not Negations of Passion\, but Realities of Intellect\, from which all the Passions Emanate Uncurbed in their Eternal Glory. The Fool shall not enter into Heaven let him be ever so Holy. Holiness is not The Price of Enterance into Heaven. Those who are cast out are All Those who\, having no Passions of their own because No Intellect\, Have spent their lives in Curbing & Governing other People’s by the Various arts of Poverty & Cruelty of all kinds. Wo\, Wo\, Wo to you Hypocrites. \n  \nand:  \n  \nThe Last Judgment is an Overwhelming of Bad Art & Science. Mental Things are alone Real; what is call’d Corporeal\, Nobody Knows of its Dwelling Place: it is in Fallacy\, & its Existence an Imposture. Where is the Existence Out of Mind or Thought? Where is it but in the Mind of a Fool? Some People flatter themselves that there will be No Last Judgment & that Bad Art will be adopted & mixed with Good Art\, That Error or Experiment will make a Part of Truth\, & they Boast that it is its Foundation; these people flatter themselves: I will not Flatter them. Error is Created. Truth is Eternal. Error\, or Creation\, will be Burned up\, & then\, & not till Then\, Truth or Eternity will appear. It is Burnt up the Moment Men cease to behold it. I assert for My Self that I do not behold the outward Creation & that to me it is hindrance & not Action; it is as the Dirt upon my feet\, No part of Me. “What\,” it will be Question’d\, “When the Sun rises\, do you not see a round disk of fire somewhat like a Guinea?” O no\, no\, I see an Innumerable company of the Heavenly host crying ‘Holy\, Holy\, Holy is the Lord God Almighty.’ I question not my Corporeal or Vegetative Eye any more than I would Question a Window concerning a Sight. I look thro’ it & not with it. \n* \n \n  \nBlake created a mythology that he elaborated in what are known as his “prophetic” poems. Carl Jung spoke of four basic functions: thinking\, feeling\, sensing (sense perception)\, and intuition. Blake had a similar idea. He said: “Four Mighty Ones are in every Man.” These four “zoas” are Los (Imagination)\, Luvah (Love or Emotion)\, Urizen (Reason)\, and Tharmas (the Senses or Body). The biggest difference is that Jung uses the term “intuition\,” while Blake uses the term “imagination.” For Blake\, a healthy person\, or a healthy Humanity\, should have these four things in balance. In his day\, he felt that Reason had usurped the throne\, and everything was tyrannizing over everything else. Imagination\, especially\, was in prison. \n  \nThis is just the tip of the iceberg. If these quotes have piqued your interest\, start by exploring Blake: Complete Writings\, edited by Geoffrey Keynes. Abridged versions of Blake\, leave out all kinds of treasures that he wrote in his notebooks\, et cetera. A good introduction to William Blake is Eternity’s Sunrise by Leo Damrosch. If you want to really get into William Blake\, the best book is Northrop Frye’s Fearful Symmetry. S. Foster Damon’s A Blake Dictionary is a helpful guide to Blake’s mythology. You can find out about Zoas and Enion and Albion and Vala and Nobodaddy and the Eyes of God\, et cetera… \n  \n  \nThe tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the Eyes of others only a Green thing which stands in the way. \n—William Blake (November 28\, 1757-August 12\, 1827)
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-9-1-22/
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DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20220915
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20221015
DTSTAMP:20260426T184316
CREATED:20220915T231129Z
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UID:3250-1663200000-1665791999@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue  9/15/22
DESCRIPTION:photo by Howard Thoresen \n  \nOpen Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue \n  \nSeptember 15\, 2022 \n  \nThe corn was orient and immortal wheat\, which never should be reaped\, nor was ever sown. I thought it had stood from everlasting to everlasting. The dust and stones of the street were as precious as gold: the gates were at first the end of the world. The green trees when I saw them first through one of the gates transported and ravished me\, their sweetness and unusual beauty made my heart to leap\, and almost mad with ecstasy\, they were such strange and wonderful things. The Men! O what venerable and reverend creatures did the aged seem! Immortal Cherubims! And young men glittering and sparkling Angels\, and maids strange seraphic pieces of life and beauty! Boys and girls tumbling in the street\, and playing\, were moving jewels. I knew not that they were born or should die; But all things abided eternally as they were in their proper places. Eternity was manifest in the Light of the Day\, and something infinite behind everything appeared: which talked with my expectation and moved my desire. The city seemed to stand in Eden\, or to be built in Heaven. The streets were mine\, the temple was mine\, the people were mine\, their clothes and gold and silver were mine\, as much as their sparkling eyes\, fair skins and ruddy faces. The skies were mine\, and so were the sun and moon and stars\, and all the World was mine; and I the only spectator and enjoyer of it. I knew no churlish proprieties\, nor bounds\, nor divisions: but all proprieties and divisions were mine: all treasures and the possessors of them. So that with much ado I was corrupted\, and made to learn the dirty devices of this world. Which now I unlearn\, and become\, as it were\, a little child again that I may enter into the Kingdom of God. \n  \n—Thomas Traherne (1636-1674)\, writing about his childhood\, from Centuries of Meditations\, Third Century\, Meditation 3 \n* \n  \nSlowness \n  \n Eighteen years ago I was living in a small homesteader’s cabin in Central Oregon. One day I was chopping vegetables\, preparing a meal with great efficiency\, when for some reason\, or no reason\, I suddenly slowed down. Instead of moving rapidly from cutting board to stove\, I walked s-l-o-w-l-y. And something happened. It was quiet. I hadn’t noticed it\, but my mind had been busy with something or other\, while I was busy preparing dinner. Now I wasn’t “preparing dinner.” As I took each step\, my bare feet felt the floor. It felt like a blessing to be walking\, to be alive. The broccoli was beautiful. Everything was perfect. \n  \nI have performed this experiment thousands of times since then. I know that if I slow down I see what I’m looking at. I taste what I’m eating. Every thing is beautiful. Perfect. \n  \n—Johnny Stallings \n* \n  \nWill We Wake? \n  \nThe main project of life is to wake from the dark— \nto rise up\, to step forth foraging for the good. Do we \nhave it in us now? When the newsreel at the Sunday \nmatinee is a bad dream\, you leave the theater\, right? \nYou decide it’s high time to choose a different story. \nWhy worship lies\, denial\, heartless swagger\, when\, \noutside\, the sun shines on both suffering and true joy? \nAren’t we here to leave the cave of fables\, help \nthe hurt\, and begin to repair the injured Earth? \n  \nAm I preaching to the choir? Yes\, I speak to \nthose already singing. Sing ever more ravishing  \nsongs\, I say\, so sleepers may awake. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \n#292 Every Step a Prayer \n  \n“In the spirit of Buddhism\, anything you do that is accompanied by mindfulness\, concentration\, and insight can be considered a prayer. When you drink your tea in forgetfulness\, you are not truly alive because you’re not there\, you’re not mindful\, and you’re not concentrated. That moment is not a moment of practice. \n    When you hold your cup and drink your tea in mindfulness and concentration\, it’s like you’re performing a sacred ritual\, and that is a prayer. When you walk\, if you enjoy every step\, if every step nourishes and transforms you\, then every step is a prayer. When you sit in solidity and freedom\, when you breathe in and out in mindfulness\, when you touch the wonders of life\, that is meditation and that is also prayer.” \nfrom Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh \n  \n    Well\, I love this idea: every step a prayer\, anything done in mindfulness\, concentration and insight can be considered a prayer\, a meditation. \n    Sometimes just the word\, ‘meditation’ can sound daunting and not attainable—or attainable only with difficulty. And the idea of prayer\, the same. Does meditation require a Buddhist temple\, a zafu\, half-closed eyes\, touching fingertips? Does prayer require a church\, prayer book\, kneeling in a pew\, fingers steepled solemnly? Thank goodness—no! \n    It simply requires paying attention to whatever you’re doing\, in that moment\, and always. It may be difficult\, but it isn’t daunting. I can breathe deeply and place each boot on the trail and look up at the mountain in front of me and feel the cool air bathing my arms and listen to the chuckle of the creek beside me… \n    And that is prayer? That is meditation?  Piece of cake! I’m on it! \n  \n—Jude Russell \n* \n  \nAugust 7\, 2022  #328  Anywhere You Go (from Your True Home) \nI like Thây’s point that mindful practice isn’t limited to an ashram\, zendo\, or other “formal” space for practice. First\, I settle in and pay attention to my breath. Then\, I open up my awareness to all that is around me—without any judgement and/or without assigning any “meaning” to the NOW moments as they pass. And\, that’s it. I can participate in the NOW by simply (and only) attending to my breath—grounding in the NOW— and not spinning stories about what is going on around me. I can simply breathe and simply enjoy the experience of NOW. Nothing more is needed. \n  \nAugust 8\, 2022  #329  A New Holiday (from Your True Home) \nI like this one! It reminds me of an aphorism my friend Carl likes to share from time to time—it’s his view of birthdays. In essence he expresses the same ideal. Why wait for a “special” day to celebrate a friend’s life and import in one’s own life? Celebrate every day. Happy un-birthday all! Thây’s idea goes only one small step further: Why not celebrate every day by living NOW?—breathing deeply of each moment\, touching Earth\, seeing sky\, hearing all life as it surrounds\, leave nothing out. \n  \nEmbrace the NOW for all it has to offer. Celebrate life as it is\, NOW. We can let go of how we “want” or “think” life should be and embrace it for what it is NOW. We can celebrate alone or with others\, as much or as little as we choose. Let us enter Today (NOW)\, live fully within\, celebrate through conscious\, deliberate breath and touch NOW. \n  \nAugust 9\, 2022  #330  A Loving Community of Two (from Your True Home) \nThis is simple life guidance. It expresses the ideal of “real” love requires and external object of love; therefore\, love is action\, or requires action to be seen\, felt and known. Love can’t simply be spoken\, or\, worse\, unspoken. (Some operate from there. “Oh\, she knows I love her.” My reply: “Oh really?! How?”) \n  \nI thought\, recently\, that I had finally found one who would draw me out of my shell. One who would challenge my façades and masks. One who would “complete me.” One in whom I could trust and with whom I could\, as Thây suggests today\, practice (learn) being a two-person community of love. Instead…well\, it wasn’t what I hoped for; it was more infatuation with my own ideals embodied in another person—(Was I even on the right track? I don’t know any more.)—than a joining together of mutual love\, respect and admiration. But it gave me hope—hope that someday I will find a person who is a positive match\, and with whom I can build a loving community. \n  \n—from the meditation journal of Michel Deforge
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/meditation-mindfulness-dialogue-9-15-22/
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