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DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20240502
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20240606
DTSTAMP:20260425T084720
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SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  5/2/24
DESCRIPTION:THE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nMay 2\, 2024 \n  \nKatie sent this poem. Joy Harjo was Poet Laureate from 2019-2022. \n  \nRemember \n  \nRemember the sky that you were born under\, \nknow each of the stars’ stories. \nRemember the moon\, know who she is. \nRemember the sun’s birth at dawn\, that is the \nstrongest point of time. Remember sundown \nand the giving away to night. \nRemember your birth\, how your mother struggled \nto give you form and breath. You are evidence of \nher life\, and her mother’s\, and here. \nRemember your father. He is your life\, also. \nRemember the earth whose skin you are: \nred earth\, black earth\, yellow earth\, white earth \nbrown earth\, we are earth. \nRemember the plants\, trees\, animal life who all have their \ntribes\, their families\, their histories\, too. Talk to them\, \nlisten to them. They are alive poems. \nRemember the wind. Remember her voice. She knows the \norigin of this universe. \nRemember you are all people and all people \nare you. \nRemember you are this universe and this \nuniverse is you. \nRemember all is in motion\, is growing\, is you. \nRemember language comes from this. \nRemember the dance language is\, that life is. \nRemember. \n  \n—Joy Harjo \n* \n  \nBirthing Your Secret Self \n  \nMusic can get you without being seen. \nPainting can move you without a word. \nPoetry works because you can’t explain. \nDrawing distills your vision’s blur to lines. \nWith film\, you swim a different river. \nLive theater plucks you from time’s prison. \nPuppets lift you into antic life. Dance \ntugs your dreams from darkness to stand \nand stamp\, pivot\, swoon and swirl. So\, \nfreed from gravity\, from barren facts\, \nyour spirit sings its colors hid too long. \nBy art\, slow days are quickened\, and \nall your torn hopes healed as by these \nmagic acts to your inner eye at last \nrising tall you stand revealed. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nNot So Much \n  \nI used to be captured by longing. \nNot so much anymore. The ghost \nof it resonates\, rain on an \nindustrial drum outside a warehouse \nnear an old dock\, quiet on a Sunday afternoon. \n  \nThe place the ache left remains. \nWind comes up then whistles \nthrough big sky\, open horizon. \nThe possibilities aren’t quite as endless \nas they used to be. Blue petals \n  \nof a flower open anyway. \nThere is a break in the clouds. \nI go for a walk. \nEven if it is just in my mind. \nMore space has opened up to roam. \n  \n—Elizabeth Domike \n* \n  \n“MAD” \n  \nIt never makes Sense. \nOnce you’re down the rabbit hole\, \nYou’ll never come up. \n  \nOh no! I must be morbidly mad; \nFor can’t you see that everything that falls upon me— \nthe good\, the bad\, the pretty\, the ugly was eloquently \nenvisioned to carry me (no\, not you! Rather simply just me.) \nthrough the event horizon to a new reality? \n  \nMy mind\, it ebbs and it flows on the shore with the \nrocks. I mustn’t be late! Tick…Tock…alas it \ndoes seem\, I am in need\, of a new “cuckoo” clock. \n  \nThe stars in the sky\, they seem so high. \nThat is of course unless you view them from my \nmind’s eye. A light year’s not far\, and an eon’s not \nlong. \n  \nWill you come with me to a new dimension? \n  \n—Brandon Lee Roy \n* \n  \n3-26-24 \n5:40 a.m. \nDear Johnny \n  \nIt’s a beautiful rainy Spring morning here. I just wanted to start sending pieces for both newsletters again. I should never be too busy for this. \n  \nWhen I read “The Open Road” & “Mindfulness  & Meditation” I feel the Love & emotions that every one has in them. The amount of wisdom I get is…stunning\, to say the least. To me they are works of art from everyone’s heart. Nothing in these compilations we all participate in are simple information; they’re complex\, beautiful & cultivate positive growth within each of us in some way. In some way each of us needs some piece of them to complete some part of us…for me\, that’s how it feels. \n  \nLove You All \nLove\, Rocky \nAll of the ways I’ve seen\, all the paths I’ve walked\, all that life was\, is & will be—can it be that I have found in it all the paths that set my heart ablaze with love and the will to be free from self doubt & self limitations? \n  \nEven confined within the concrete walls\, the fences\, the endless spools of razor wire\, through the fightings\, cuttings\, stabbings and broken bones\, the lying\, backstabbing\, manipulations\, and the fear of the prison guards who play with our lives\, minds and souls\, I’ve found this path. \n  \nThe path is not an easy one to navigate all the time. Every day has its distractions & traps to overcome\, same as life outside the walls of prison. But the golden path is the path I’m on\, and no one can take me off of it but me. I’ve no plans of trekking away from it any time soon. \n  \nThe world keeps spinning\, eclipses happen like a cosmic clock\, my heart is like yours—limited beats full of wounds\, love and joy. It rages like a thunderstorm on the sea in my chest\, the engine of my soul driving along my golden daily path. \n  \n—Rocky Hutchinson \n* \n  \nHere’s an old poem: \n  \nWe Are Seven \n  \n—-A simple Child\, \nThat lightly draws its breath\, \nAnd feels its life in every limb\, \nWhat should it know of death? \n  \nI met a little cottage Girl: \nShe was eight years old\, she said; \nHer hair was thick with many a curl \nThat clustered round her head. \n  \nShe had a rustic\, woodland air\, \nAnd she was wildly clad: \nHer eyes were fair\, and very fair; \n—Her beauty made me glad. \n  \n“Sisters and brothers\, little Maid\, \nHow many may you be?” \n“How many\, Seven in all\,” she said\, \nAnd wondering looked at me. \n  \n“And where are they? I pray you tell.” \nShe answered\, “Seven are we; \nAnd two of us at Conway dwell\, \nAnd two are gone to sea. \n  \n“Two of us in the church-yard lie\, \nMy sister and my brother; \nAnd\, in the church-yard cottage\, I \nDwell near them with my mother.” \n  \n“You say that two at Conway dwell\, \nAnd two are gone to sea\, \nYet ye are seven! I pray you tell\, \nSweet Maid\, how this may be.” \n  \nThen did the little Maid reply\, \n“Seven boys and girls are we; \nTwo of us in the church-yard lie\, \nBeneath the church-yard tree.” \n  \n“You run about\, my little Maid\, \nYour limbs they are alive; \nIf two are in the church-yard laid\, \nThen ye are only five.” \n  \n“Their graves are green\, they may be seen\,” \nThe little Maid replied\, \n“Twelve steps or more from my mother’s door\, \nAnd they are side by side. \n  \n“My stockings there I often knit\, \nMy kerchief there I hem; \nAnd there upon the ground I sit\, \nAnd sing a song to them. \n  \n“And often after sun-set\, Sir\, \nWhen it is light and fair\, \nI take my little porringer\, \nAnd eat my supper there. \n  \n“The first that died was sister Jane; \nIn bed she moaning lay\, \nTill God released her of her pain; \nAnd then she went away. \n  \n“So in the church-yard she was laid; \nAnd\, when the grass was dry\, \nTogether round her grave we played\, \nMy brother John and I. \n  \n“And when the ground was white with snow\, \nAnd I could run and slide\, \nMy brother John was forced to go\, \nAnd he lay by her side.” \n  \n“How many are you\, then\,” said I\, \n“If they two are in heaven?” \nQuick was the little Maid’s reply\, \n“O Master! we are seven.” \n  \n“But they are dead; those two are dead! \nTheir spirits are in heaven!” \n’Twas throwing words away; for still \nThe little Maid would have her will\, \nAnd said\, “Nay\, we are seven!” \n  \n—William Wordsworth (April 7\, 1770-April 23\, 1850) \n 
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-5-2-24/
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DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20240515
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20240615
DTSTAMP:20260425T084720
CREATED:20240515T233014Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20250717T212820Z
UID:4683-1715731200-1718409599@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue  5/15/24
DESCRIPTION:  \nOpen Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue \n  \nMay 15\, 2024 \n  \nKatie sent this: \n  \nDo all the good you can\, \nBy all the means you can\, \nIn all the ways you can\, \nIn all the places you can\, \nAt all the times you can\, \nTo all the people you can\, \nAs long as ever you can. \n  \n–John Wesley (1703-1791) \n* \n  \n     For so long I wandered in the darkness and stayed from the light\, I was safe there\, I was out of sight. \n     Not knowing what it was that led along in life\, a thread pulled on my heart\, some would call it luck\, I am alive. \n     Whatever it is\, I’ve always followed my heart and when I’ve not done so…things don’t work out so well for me. \n     We all have a passion inside of us; driven by it\, great things come from each of us for others\, for all we love in life. \n     To give to each other the love we have in our hearts\, is truly what is important in life\, it keeps all of us together. \n  \n—Rocky Hutchinson  4-18-24 \n* \n  \n#16  Embrace Them With Great Tenderness \n  \n“Do not fight against pain and do not fight against irritation or jealousy. Embrace them with great tenderness\, as though you were embracing a little baby. Your anger is yourself\, and you should not be violent toward it. The same goes with all of your emotions.” \n—Thich Nhat Hanh\, from Your True Home \n  \nOh how important it is to remember this! I am so glad that Thich Nhat Hanh is here to verify\, to validate this aching truth for me. \n  \nAfter fifteen years of inexpressible joy with my dear pooch\, my dear dog\, Lolo (yes\, named for Lolo Pass in the mountains\, to replace her shelter name of…Tiffany)\, she is deteriorating rapidly\, and I doubt we have six more months with her. Where once not long ago she could hike 10-12 miles with me\, now she can walk only a couple short walks around our property. Her kidneys are failing and her hind legs wobble and collapse until I prop her up and give her a little pep talk.  \n  \nMy heart is breaking. Yes\, we’ve had 15½ joyful years with her\, so true\, but now comes what I have dreaded—accompanying yet another dog through the death process. \n  \nMy heart is breaking\, and yet I realized that this great sadness is so filled with love that it is beautiful\, that I am fortunate to be feeling this sadness\, because it is all love for this creature. My heart is full\, and whether it is sadness or joy\, the important thing is that my heart is full\, and alive. \n  \n—Jude Russell \n* \n  \n     Beauty Blind \n  \nHave I grown blind to the attractions of the ordinary? \nHave I lost the mundane matrix in background weave \nof common days\, where the blossom distracts me \nfrom the stem’s grace\, which distracts me \nfrom the leaf’s holy hue\, which distracts me \nfrom earth\, essential earth\, each crumb of origin? \n  \nAny bright young face in the crowd can steal \nmy attention from all beautiful variations \nof the human tribe\, from the honest old\, the brutal \nbroken\, the pluck and persistence of the unseen. \nWake up\, sleepy wisdom. See as sky sees\, \npouring light in bounty over all of us. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nWhy should I be unhappy? Every parcel of my being is in full bloom. \n—Rumi \n  \nAs is the world right now! \n  \n—Jill Littlewood\n* \n  \nFrom the Rubaiyat: \n  \nThe Bird of Time has but a little way \nTo fly—and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing. \n—Omar Khayyam \n  \n—J Kahn \n* \n  \nRhododendrons are in bloom! Our whole neighborhood is a gigantic garden. \n  \nUnder the greenwood tree \nWho loves to lie with me \nAnd turn his merry note \nUnto the sweet bird’s throat\, \nCome hither\, come hither\, come hither. \n     Here shall he see \n     No enemy \nBut winter and rough weather. \n  \nWho doth ambition shun \nAnd loves to live i’ th’ sun\, \nSeeking the food he eats \nAnd pleased with what he gets\, \nCome hither\, come hither\, come hither. \n     Here shall he see \n     No enemy \nBut winter and rough weather. \n  \n[“Who” here means “Anyone who”] \n  \nThis song comes from Shakespeare’s play As You Like It. The play and the song belong to the pastoral tradition in literature\, where rural life is imagined as idyllic and innocent. Usually shepherds are involved. William Blake’s Songs of Innocence are in that tradition. \n  \nThis morning I’m thinking about how we live inside the worlds we imagine. In our lives\, innocence gives way to experience. And then maybe…I don’t know what…another kind of innocence. Here’s a poem from my book The Nonstop Love-In that may be about that: \n  \nlet’s pretend \n  \ninstead of pretending that we are afraid \nthat we must improve \nthat we have enemies \nthat the future will arrive someday \n  \nlet’s pretend everything is sacred \npretend this is Paradise \npretend every moment is precious \npretend we love everyone \n  \npretend our joy knows no bounds \npretend we are the whole wide world \n  \n—Johnny Stallings \n* \n  \nGRATITUDE \n  \n“The Hebrew term for gratitude translates as ‘recognizing the good.’ Myriad benefits come to us every day\, but most of us find it easy to overlook them and instead focus on what we lack. This trait is an invitation to sensitize yourself to the good and to the gifts that are certain to be present in your life at every moment\, even if at the same moment there happen to be difficulties. \n  \n—AWAKEN TO THE GOOD AND GIVE THANKS \n  \nPRACTICE: Say ‘thank you’ to every person who does even the slightest thing that is helpful or beneficial to you.” \n—Alan Morinis\, from Every Day\, Holy Day \n  \nIt is easy to obscure my daily Positive experiences or overlook the seemingly-small kindnesses of others during the day. Yet\, I know from previous experience (now lapsed) that any effort to see and appreciate these moments only expands my joy and positive experiences throughout the day. I enjoy the mantra for today. Giving thanks is the easy part\, mostly. The seeing of good or Positives—thus awakening—is my threshold of challenge. I can’t help but recall the Robin Williams movie\, “Awakenings”; noticing how easy it is to fall into a torpor of catatonia for others’ kindnesses—not even “seeing” that which is slapping my face\, repeatedly. Like the patients\, I need an “L-Dopa” therapy to shock me from my torpor to sharp alert and to fully present experience of my world and life as it is. Here’s to awakenings for even slight helps\, benefits or “good” moments Today! \n  \nI’ve wanted a “new” mindfulness practice: Providence has afforded me this Mussar practice—combining Judaism\, meditation and mindfulness into a regular practice. I learned recently in a read on Hasidis that Zen\, which I practiced earlier (2014-2020)\, is very akin to Jewish Kabbalah practices\, and now I have Mussar exercises for my meditation moments daily!  \n  \nP.S. Having an audience for writing is a helpful focus and—THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT! \n  \n—Michel Deforge
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/meditation-mindfulness-dialogue-5-15-24/
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DTSTART;TZID=America/Los_Angeles:20240521T180000
DTEND;TZID=America/Los_Angeles:20240521T193000
DTSTAMP:20260425T084720
CREATED:20240521T180840Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20240521T180840Z
UID:4697-1716314400-1716319800@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:AS THE SKY BEGINS TO CHANGE: Kim Stafford Poetry Reading
DESCRIPTION:Hey Everyone!\n \nKim will be reading from his latest book at Broadway Books (1714 NE Broadway) this evening (5/21/24) at 6 pm.\n \nIt will be wonderful!\n \n \npeace\, love & poetry\n \nJohnny
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/as-the-sky-begins-to-change-kim-stafford-poetry-reading/
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