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DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20240615
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SUMMARY:Meditation & Mindfulness 6/15/24
DESCRIPTION:photo of Will Hornyak (and surroundings) by Michael Wetter \n\n  \nOpen Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue \n\n  \nJune 15\, 2024 \n  \nEvery day\, priests minutely examine the Dharma \nAnd endlessly chant complicated sutras. \nBefore doing that\, though\, they should learn \nHow to read the love letters sent by the wind and rain\, the snow and moon. \n  \n—Ikkyū (1394-1481)\, translated by John Stevens \n* \n  \n“Sometimes a conversation can be the greatest adventure of your life.” \n  \n—Lyn Slater (sent by Jill Littlewood) \n* \n  \nHow \n  \nsmall birds      flit \nfrom bough \nto bough to bough \n  \nto bough to bough to bough \n  \n—Gary Snyder\, from danger on peaks \n* \nThe Owyhee River \n  \nUshers us \n Through canyons \nA thousand feet deep \nTwo million years old \n Past sheer\, towering \n Basalt walls\, chalk hills \nAlive with the songs of \n Canyon wrens\, chukar partridge\, quail. \n  \nEons of weathering \nIce\, floods and wind \nYield cracks and crevices \nLedges and knolls \nPerfect perches \nFor eagles\, hawks \nRavens and falcons. \nNiches hold soil and seed \nBirth flowering shrubs. \nWhite phlox\, yellow arrowroot \nErupt from unlikely fissures  \nIn drab stone walls.   \n  \n Just below Montgomery Rapids \nThe river slows\, deepens \n We are engulfed  \nIn clouds of industrious cliff swallows \nDarting wildly around us \nDaubing mud\, sculpting nests  \n The ancient stone face \n Cradling new dwellings and  \nDelicate feathered life.   \n   \nThe days are long and generous \nHot springs\, cold plunges \nCoyote songs at dusk \nJust one rattlesnake! \nWe navigate rapids named \n “Read-it-and-Weep” \n“Upset\,” “Nuisance” and “Squeeze” \n And dozens more \nScouting those \nWhere disaster is a possibility \nTerror and joy flowing together.   \n  \nThe stars seems so close here \nThe night silence complete \nSave for the swirl of current \nThe occasional slap of a beaver tail. \nA touch of whiskey  \nLoosens the tongue \nFor conversation\, laughter \nThe medicine of friendship \nLike the rising moon \nRenews\, restores\, heals. \n    \n We drink morning coffee  \nAnd welcome first light \nTo sage-covered hills \n Sandstone cliffs and water. \nSoon we’ll begin the ritual \nOf gathering\, packing up \nStrapping down the gear \nCasting off and feeling  \nThe first tug of current \nThe river drawing us  \nTo itself once again \n An old friend \nShouldering our load \nShowing us the way. \n  \n  \n—Will Hornyak\,     June 2024 \n* \n  \nI was thinking about meditation the other day\, and wrote this letter to Rocky: \n  \nJune 5\, 2024 \n  \nDear Rocky \n  \nThis morning I want to write to you about meditation and mindfulness. I know you are very busy these days. I hope you are able to find some time each day—even if it’s just five minutes—to just sit. \nWords like “meditation” and “mindfulness” can be misleading. Maybe just think of it as “quiet time.” A time when you don’t have to do anything\, or be anyone. Awake and alert. That’s all. No past\, no future. \nNo thought. \nNo thought? \nIf a thought arises\, look at it as if it is a cloud passing through the sky of your mind. All thoughts are just thoughts. They come and go. \nWith thought and language we label everything. We name every thing. We take something which is very big—life!—and confine it in words. \nWe confine ourselves. We imagine that we are a “man\,” that we are “in prison\,” that we are happy or sad. That we are separate from other people and from “the world.” These are all just ideas. \nIn silence\, all these little ideas just fall away. Something is still happening\, but it has no name. \nAfter five minutes or an hour of silence\, we have to rejoin other people in the activities of life. We have to pretend to be “Rocky” or “Johnny\,” and do the things that Rocky and Johnny have agreed to do—the things that other people rely on us to do. \nWriting in a journal during “quiet time” can be helpful—reflecting on our life\, reminding ourselves of the things that are most important. Remembering to be grateful. Remembering that every thing is miraculous. Nurturing feelings of peace\, love & happiness. \nCertain texts are good for “quiet time\,” to bring us to “the peace which passeth understanding.” Your True Home is good. So is “Song of Myself.” Also\, Tao Te Ching and Hsin Hsin Ming. The poems of Han Shan and Hafiz. The Only Revolution by Krishnamurti. Poems and meditations of Thomas Traherne. My theater pieces “Silence” and “The Golden World.” (The latter is in my book The Nonstop Love-In\, which I hope has some things in it that people find inspirational.) \nSilence puts us in touch with the reality that is larger than our descriptions and explanations of reality—which are small and partial. This feeling of boundless being is truer than our ideas about the world and truer than our ideas about who we are. \n  \npeace & love \nJohnny \n* \n  \nOne Trick Pony \n  \nI’ll be the first to say it: Oh yes\, I can be \npredictable—rise\, write a little song\, then \nputter the day away. And my verses\, they \nlament\, or praise\, in small compass. Nothing \ntoo fancy\, nothing too long or elaborate. \nAs for ambitious reach\, let it pass me by. \nDoesn’t every tree have all summer\, \nevery singing bird the whole sky to fill? \nMeanwhile\, the sun\, born in the big bang\, \nremains content to roil and smolder\, now \nand then to flare\, before settling back \nto seethe. So I seethe and suffer\, need \nand wonder\, try scratching syllables \nof joy\, or sorrow\, hope\, or warning. \nWhat more can I do than this— \na slow burn\, singing and singing. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \n#19 Flowers and Garbage \n“Flowers and garbage are both organic in nature.So looking deeply into the nature of a flower\, you can see the presence of the compost and the garbage. The flower is also going to turn into garbage\, but don’t be afraid! You are a gardener and you have in your hands the power to transform garbage into flowers\, into fruit\, into vegetables. You don’t throw anything away\, because you are not afraid of garbage. Your hands are capable or transforming it into flowers\, or lettuce or cucumbers. \nThe same thing is true of your happiness and your sorrow. Sorrow\, fear\, and depression are all a kind of garbage. These bits of garbage are part of real life\, and we must look deeply into their nature. You can practice in order to turn these bits of garbage into flowers. It is not only your love that is organic; your hate is\, too So you should not throw anything out. All you have to do is learn how to transform your garbage into flowers.” \n—from Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh \n  \nUgh. Garbage. I don’t even want to write about this\, because it just dredges up ugly\, old memories—memories of my first marriage and all of its ugliness\, fear\, chaos… But on reading Thich Nhat Hanh\, I realized that it was living through that ‘garbage’ is precisely what led me to my determination and devotion to loving and working on behalf of others who are considered ‘garbage’ by much of the world. Prison inmates\, rough teenagers\, Hispanic adults (documented or undocumented)\, the homeless\, the poor. I am called to be with these people and to instill in them the belief\, the understanding\, that they\, one and all\, have value and true worthiness and beauty in this world. \n  \nMy first husband let me know countless times (always in an alcoholic stupor) that I was a ‘piece of garbage.’ It is said\, and it is true\, that when you say something enough times\, the listener will come to believe it. And I did. Who was I to believe otherwise when the person closest to me told me over and over that I was useless\, stupid\, and…garbage. Nowadays it’s called gaslighting\, I think. Of course I was too ashamed to mention any of this to my dear\, concerned family or friends\, so it all just settled itself in my being and festered. \n  \nI escaped that marriage—and I flourished. (Latin—flor=flower). From the ‘garbage’ came the flower. I blossomed. I grew stronger and eventually I branched out and realized that that piece of  garbage could be valuable to others. Now I cultivate relationships with the ‘lost ones\,’ those denigrated and scorned and dismissed as worthless. I instill in them a sense of their value through love and attention and presence. I want to transform them all from garbage into flowers. \n  \n—Jude Russell \n* \nMichel Deforge asked me to let everyone know that he has transferred to Oregon State Correctional Institution (OSCI) in Salem. He likes it much better there. Here are some excerpts from his journal: \n  \nMay 6\, 2024 \n  \n….Some things are not good for me\, and at the same time I don’t benefit from obsessive focus (aversion). I simply don’t need to give any more energy than is polite to acknowledge existence. For example: my cellie of late opines loudly—whines even. If (when) I give this energy by having my own opinion\, and then sharing it\, I see something odious develop in the opinion each holds\, and aversion arises. If\, instead\, I let him rave but do not form my own opinion\, or at least don’t share my thoughts\, aversion is less powerful in me. I may still find his ideas odious\, they vanish quickly enough; unfed they wither. \n  \nMay 7\, 2024 \n  \nAbraham rushed to Sarah’s tent and said\, “Hurry! Three measures of the finest flour! Knead it and make cakes.” Abraham ran to the cattle and chose a tender\, choice calf. He gave it to a young man who rushed to prepare it. [While recovering from circumcision!]  —Genesis 18:6-7 \n  \nIndolence is easy. The only requirement is do little-to-nothing\, and think less of it. To follow Abraham’s example\, hosting unexpected travelers\, during the most painful day of convalescence from a minor surgery\, is to fight the siren song of self and indolence. He didn’t just follow pro forma for these guests\, he ran out to meet them—away from the comfort of shade and recuperation—and then back again to prepare not just a light snack\, but a full banquet in honor of his guests. In his great discomfort\, Abraham sets himself the task of providing for others’ comfort instead of his own. Many\, if not all of us\, would not do half as much. We’ll tell ourselves we would. But we know\, in the end\, pain and our own discomfort will win out\, driving us back to our cozy convalescence. I don’t blame us! What Abraham did was extra-ordinary. That’s what ENTHUSIASM does to one\, shifting focus and priorities toward where one is aiming his intent. Someday\, maybe I could be ENTHUSIASTIC as was Abraham. “If not now\, when?” \n  \n—Michel Deforge \n* \n  \nKatie Radditz sent this poem by Rilke: \n  \nDear darkening ground\, \nyou’ve endured so patiently the walls we’ve built\, \nperhaps you’ll give the cities one more hour \nbefore you become forest again\, and water\, and widening wilderness \nin that hour of inconceivable terror \nwhen you take back your name from all things. \nJust give me a little more time! \nI want to love the things \nAs no one has thought to love them\, \nUntil they’re worthy of you and real. \n  \nRainer Maria Rilke\, 1875 – 1926 \n* \n  \nElizabeth Domike sent this poem by Stanley Moss: \n  \nBright Day \n  \nI sing this morning: Hello\, hello. \nI proclaim the bright day of the soul. \nThe sun is a good fellow\, \nthe devil is a good guy\, no deaths today I know. \nI live because I live. I do not die because I cannot die. \nIn Tuscan sunlight Masaccio   \npainted his belief that St. Peter’s shadow \ncured a cripple\, gave him back his sight. \nI’ve come through eighty-five summers. I walk in sunlight. \nIn my garden\, death questions every root\, flowers reply. \nI know the dark night of the soul \ndoes not need God’s eye\, \nas a beggar does not need a hand or a bowl. \n  \n—Stanley Moss \n* \n  \nOur Lady of the Mangoes \n  \nSeñora Mango \nDoña Mango \nholds court behind the counter  \nof her shop\, \na five minute walk \nfrom our casita. \n  \nMorning till past dark \nshe waits\, taciturn\, \ndoes not look up. \n  \nHer buyers approach her \nfor pronouncements of cost: \ntwo tomatoes \nor one potato\, a handful \nof eggs secured  \nin a produce bag. \n  \nMost days I find her  \nsipping Cup of Noodles\, \nglued to the soaps \non a tiny TV  \nbeside the withering lettuce. \nHer husband watches  \nfrom a produce crate \nout of view. \n  \nI am there for mangoes \nzucchini\, avocados\, tomatoes \nonions\, bananas \ngarlic\, limes \npapaya and pineapple \na profusion of necessities \nsome too extravagant to buy  \nat home. \n  \nShe frowns at my use of \nher plastic bags. \nI learn to bring my own. \n  \nThere’s no space on her counter \nfor all I want to buy. Over time \nrecognizing me\, she \nmotions me to hand her my \nshopping bags. She jots down  \nmy total and picks \nthe right coins from my hand. \n  \nI greet her always and thank her \nwhen I leave. One day \nas I turn to go I hear her call \nafter me “Qué la vaya bien.” \nI call out to her in return. \n  \nDid I catch just a hint of a smile \nin her eyes? We have made progress. \nI walk my mangoes home. \n  \n  \n—Gail Lester\, Guanajuato\, March\, 2024
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/meditation-mindfulness-6-15-24/
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DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20240616
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20240902
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SUMMARY:Open Road Meditation & Mindfulness Archive
DESCRIPTION:Avalokiteśvara from the Ajanta Caves \n  \n  \nOpen Road Meditation & Mindfulness Community \n  \nIn September of 2020\, Open Road board members–Bill Faricy\, Deborah Buchanan and Katie Radditz–along with Howard Thoresen and I\, inaugurated the Open Road Meditation & Mindfulness Community\, for people who live in prison and for those who don’t. If you are interested in meditation and mindfulness\, you are welcome to join us. The idea of the Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue is to provide support and encouragement for your spiritual practice–that is\, whatever gives your life meaning. \n  \nWe are not promoting any religious tradition. We will just be sharing our thoughts\, experiences\, questions and friendship in order to support and encourage each other in living more peacefully and mindfully. To begin\, we will be using Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh as a jumping off point for dialogue. As we go along\, we will use other inspirational texts and poems\, along with everyone’s personal ruminations. \n  \nI will coordinate the writings of prison residents through the Open Road post office box\, and use email for everyone else. To begin\, everyone is invited to find one of the 365 meditations in Thich Nhat Hanh’s book that inspires you and write something in response to it. You can use other sources of inspiration as well. \n  \nOn the 15th of every month I will send out what I’ve collected from everyone to all the participants. You are free to respond to what other people write\, or just ponder it. \n  \nHere is the first Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue\, published on September 15\, 2020. \nHere’s the second Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue\, published on October 15\, 2020. \nHere’s the third Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue\, published on November 15\, 2020. \nHere’s the fourth Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue\, published on December 15\, 2020. \nHere’s the fifth Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue\, published on January 15\, 2021. \nHere’s the sixth Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue\, published on February 15\, 2021. \nHere’s the seventh Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue\, published on March 15\, 2021. \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for April 15\, 2021. \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for May 15\, 2021. \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for June 15\, 2021. \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for July 15\, 2021. \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for August 15\, 2021. \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for September 15\, 2021. \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for October 15\, 2021. \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for November 15\, 2021. \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for December 15\, 2021. \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for January 15\, 2022. \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for February 15\, 2022. \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for March 15\, 2022. \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for April 15\, 2022. \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for May 15\, 2022. \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for June 15\, 2022. \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for July 15\, 2022. \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for August 15\, 2022. \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for September 15\, 2022. \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for October 15\, 2022 \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for November 15\, 2022 \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for December 15\, 2022 \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for January 15\, 2023 \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for February 15\, 2023 \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for March 15\, 2023 \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for April 15\, 2023 \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for May 15\, 2023 \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for June 15\, 2023 \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for July 15\, 2023 \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for August 15\, 2023 \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for September 15\, 2023 \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for October 15\, 2023 \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for November 15\, 2023 \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for December 15\, 2023 \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for January 15\, 2024 \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for February 15\, 2024 \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for March 15\, 2024 \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for April 15\, 2024   \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for May 15\, 2024  \nMeditation & Mindfulness Dialogue for June 15\, 2024 \n  \nHere are two meditation texts:  \na talk on Beginner’s Mind by Shunryū Suzuki (1904-1971) \nthe earliest Zen text\, Hsin Hsin Ming\, by Seng Ts’an\, the Third Zen Patriarch (529-606 A.D.) \nIf you’d like to join our merry band\, email me and let me know. \n  \nJake was in segregation (solitary confinement) at Two Rivers prison when he wrote this: \n\n49 – What is a leaf?\n \nIs one of my favorites! In segregation we have paintings that are of different scenes. At first it was cool\, then I and others got over it. But since putting this wisdom of Thich Nhat Hanh in perspective you see more than a painting. For it opens my eyes to the time\, the painter\, the painter’s years of art skills\, everything down to what makes paint…paint. There are so many miracles that came together to make these paintings! It’s amazing. Now I try to be mindful of what miracles come into place to make people I meet\, foods I eat. Being conscious of what had to come together to create your best friend or your favorite food gives you much more appreciation for how they come to be in your life .\n \nThank you for giving me a chance\, Johnny. I’m really working on myself. My goal is day by day. (Today be less ego-oriented.) Trying to not care who judges me for being me. Because that’s not my problem\, I am happy and peaceful. It’s been a sacrifice\, but as I’m learning sacrifice is the way to a peaceful life!\n \nPeace Love Happiness\n \n–Jake\n\n\n\n\n\n\n  \n  \nMay all people be happy. \nMay we live in love. \n  \n–Johnny Stallings \nExecutive Director\, The Open Road
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/open-road-meditation-mindfulness-archive/
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SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  7/4/24
DESCRIPTION:photo by Abe Green \n  \n  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nJuly 4\, 2024 \n  \nI asked some friends to answer this question: “What stories do you tell yourself to feel okay\, cheer yourself up\, bless the day?” \n  \nI like to remind myself that everything is miraculous. I tell myself that life is short\, this day is precious and so I want to live it in the Golden World. The Golden World is a name I give to a feeling that everything is perfect\, that this is Paradise. I’m most likely to feel this way in the quiet time at the beginning of the day—especially when thought and language fall away. So\, in addition to telling myself stories to cheer myself up\, I love to enjoy “the storyless state”—free of narratives\, free of cares.  \n  \nI have friends in books who have written about those moments of perfect beauty and joy: Walt Whitman\, Hafiz\, Thomas Traherne\, Kim Stafford\, Thich Nhat Hanh\, and others. I love the little book by Peter Schumann of the Bread & Puppet Theater\, St Francis Preaches to the Birds. I love Giotto’s painting of Saint Francis preaching to the birds. Nancy and I enjoy watching “Jeeves and Wooster” with Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie. We love watching Wes Anderson movies. The “Chaiyya Chaiyya” video (with English subtitles) from the movie “Dil Se” on YouTube always makes me happy. \n  \n—Johnny Stallings \n* \n  \nRe: the discussion\, after Jill’s reading of Mary Oliver\, of what to do with our one wild and precious life\, I offer this link to a video seasons greetings card I made when we lived in the Sierras\, long ago\, made with my little camcorder and scratchy sound\, circling the wildness we once tried to rein in\, and later yearned to touch: \n  \nhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5gFTtCsj0js \n  \n—J Kahn \n* \n  \nHere’s the Mary Oliver poem that Jill Littlewood shared\, that J was referring to: \n  \nThe Summer Day \n  \nWho made the world? \nWho made the swan and the black bear? \nWho made the grasshopper? \nThe grasshopper\, I mean— \nthe one who has flung herself out of the grass\, \nthe one who is eating sugar out of my hand\, \nwho is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down— \nwho is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes. \nNow she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face. \nNow she snaps her wings open\, and floats away. \nI don’t know exactly what a prayer is. \nI do know how to pay attention\, how to fall down \ninto the grass\, how to kneel down in the grass\, \nhow to be idle and blessed\, how to stroll through the fields\, \nwhich is what I have been doing all day. \nTell me\, what else should I have done? \nDoesn’t everything die at last\, and too soon? \nTell me\, what is it you plan to do \nwith your one wild and precious life? \n  \n—Mary Oliver \n* \n  \nA Translation Project for Peace \n  \nby Kim Stafford \n  \nA friend at the Oregon Society for Translators & Interpreters\, whose members work primarily in hospitals and the courts to help patients and clients outside the English language to navigate the system\, asked if she could invite my poem “A Proclamation for Peace” to travel around the world. \n  \nI said yes\, of course\, and last fall we held a zoom session with translators online in Japan\, Nepal\, India\, and elsewhere\, at work translating the poem. Since then\, we’ve decided to invite more languages into the project and make a book. We’re up to fifty languages and counting. As I describe the project on the back cover: \n  \nThis book sends a poem for peace around the world so it may become a new poem in Arabic and Hebrew\, Russian and Ukrainian\, Tibetan and Mandarin\, Tamil\, Vietnamese\, Polish\, Yoruba\, Yucatec\, and a host of  other languages. Together with notes about the peace-making translators and their languages\, and recordings of voices speaking gentle words\, this book is for the children of the world. \n  \n—from A Proclamation for Peace: Translated into World Languages \n  \nHere’s the poem in English\, and in Persian\, as translated by my friend in Tehran\, Alirezza Tagdareh: \n  \n     A Proclamation for Peace  \n  \nWhereas the world is a house on fire;  \nWhereas the nations are filled with shouting;  \nWhereas hope seems small\, sometimes  \n     a single bird on a wire  \n     left by migration behind.  \n  \nWhereas kindness is seldom in the news  \n     and peace an abstraction\n     while war is real;  \n  \nWhereas words are all I have;  \nWhereas my life is short;  \nWhereas I am afraid;\nWhereas I am free—despite all  \n     fire and anger and fear;  \n  \nBe it therefore resolved a song  \nshall be my calling—a song  \nnot yet made shall be vocation  \nand peaceful words the work  \nof my remaining days.  \n  \n  \n \n  \nAnd here is the poem read in Yoruba\, by my friend Abayo Animashaun from Nigeria: \n  \n \n  \nThe book will be available at Bookshop.org and other outlets by mid-September. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nElizabeth Domike sent this: \n  \nTo live on a day-to-day basis is insufficient  \nfor human beings; we need to transcend\,  \ntransport\, escape; we need meaning\,  \nunderstanding\, and explanation;  \nwe need to see over-all patterns  \nin our lives.  \nWe need hope\, the sense of a future.  \n  \nAnd we need freedom (or\, at least\,  \nthe illusion of freedom) to get beyond  \nourselves\, whether with telescopes  \nand microscopes and our ever-burgeoning  \ntechnology\, or in states of mind  \nthat allow us to travel to other worlds\,  \nto rise above our immediate  \nsurroundings. \n  \nWe may seek\, too\, a relaxing of inhibitions  \nthat makes it easier to bond with each other\,  \nor transports that make our consciousness  \nof time and mortality easier to bear.  \n  \nWe seek a holiday from our inner  \nand outer restrictions\, a more intense  \nsense of the here and now\, the beauty  \nand value of the world we live in. \n  \n—from Hallucinations by Oliver Sacks \n* \n  \nAlex Tretbar wrote: \n  \nHadn’t seen this one of Bill Stafford’s before. How gorgeous. \n  \nLove the Butcher Bird Lurks Everywhere \n  \nA gather of apricots fruit pickers left \ngleam like reasons for light going higher\, higher; \nI look half as hard as I can to tease \nthe fruit out of its green. \n        (It is time to run lest pity overtake us\, \n        and calamity pit invents to accompany itself: \n        to sigh is a stern act—we are judged by this air.) \n  \nDown the steady eye of the charging bear \na gun barrel swerves—intention\, then flame; \nand willows do tricks to find an exact place in the wind: \nresolution steady\, bent to be true. \n        (While there’s time \n        I call to you by all these dubious guides: \n        “Forsake all ways except the way we came.”) \n  \n—William Stafford\, from The Paris Review\, issue no. 22 (Autumn-Winter 1959-1960) \n* \n  \nThis is a summer poem if ever there was one.   It makes me think of your and Nancy’s back yard. I can relate except for the part about having no aches after working in the garden. sigh . . .  I know it will get better after all the beds are prepared and the seeds get growing. Then the salads make it all worth while.   \n  \nGift \n  \nA day so happy.  \nFog lifted early\, I worked in the garden. \nHummingbirds were stopping over honeysuckle flowers.  \nThere was nothing on earth I wanted to possess. \nI knew no one worth my envying him.  \nWhatever evil I had suffered\, I forgot.  \nTo think that once I was the same man did not embarrass me.  \nIn my body I felt no pain.   \nWhen straightening up\, I saw the blue sea and sails.  \n  \n—Czesław Miłosz \n  \nWishing you all such a summer moment.    \nxoxo  Katie Radditz \n 
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-7-4-24/
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