Kalidasa! 8/24/24
2024-08-24 19:00 - 21:00 (America/Los_Angeles)
KALIDASA

Johnny Stallings reads from the works of Kalidasa (circa 5th Century CE), India’s greatest poet and playwright. Dialogue follows. This is an Open Road event (openroadpdx.org).

Muir Hall in Taborspace, 5441 SE Belmont, in Portland
Saturday, August 24th, at 7 pm

Charles Erickson, artist
2024-09-03 - 2024-09-10
This theatrical prop (above), including myself in the foreground, is an introduction to my present series of paintings about the Transfiguration on Mount Tabor.
It is about the mind and the five organs of sense–eye, ear, tongue, nose and skin–represented by the five painted portals.

“That call’d Body is a portion of Soul discern’d by the five Senses, the chief inlets of Soul in this age.”
–William Blake, from The Marriage of Heaven and Hell

One portal is on the left, and one is on the right. There are three portals in back. The portal on the left is the ear, the portal on the right is the eye. The ear and the eye are cognitive senses, rich in information, and accessible to language.
The central portal in the back is skin. The other two are tongue and nose.
Skin, unlike the other sense organs, is all over the body–so it was called sensus communis in the Middle Ages. There is a reason skin is in the middle. It’s a unifier, in the same way that the mind is a unifier. There is a central axis between the mind and the skin.
*
Here’s a passage about the transformation on Mount Tabor, from the gospel of Luke:

28 And it came to pass about an eight days after these sayings, he took Peter and John and James, and went up into a mountain to pray.
29 And as he prayed, the fashion of his countenance was altered, and his raiment was white and glistering.
30 And, behold, there talked with him two men, which were Moses and Elias:
31 Who appeared in glory, and spake of his decease which he should accomplish at Jerusalem.
32 But Peter and they that were with him were heavy with sleep: and when they were awake, they saw his glory, and the two men that stood with him.
33 And it came to pass, as they departed from him, Peter said unto Jesus, Master, it is good for us to be here: and let us make three tabernacles; one for thee, and one for Moses, and one for Elias: not knowing what he said.
34 While he thus spake, there came a cloud, and overshadowed them: and they feared as they entered into the cloud.
35 And there came a voice out of the cloud, saying, This is my beloved Son: hear him.
36 And when the voice was past, Jesus was found alone. And they kept it close, and told no man in those days any of those things which they had seen
Luke 9:28-36

Paintings by Jake Scharbach at Froelick Gallery
2024-09-03 - 2024-10-12
painting by Jake Scharbach

Jake Scharbach’s paintings will be exhibited at Froelick Gallery, September 3-October 12.

The First Thursday Reception is September 5, 5-8 pm.

He will give a talk at the gallery on Saturday, September 7th, at 11 a.m.

Froelick Gallery is at 714 NW Davis, in Portland.

Jake is Nancy’s nephew. We’re very excited about the show!

peace, love & happiness
Johnny

¡Bibliophiles Unanimous! 9/15/24
2024-09-03 08:00 - 17:00, 2024-09-15 15:00 - 17:00
¡Bibliophiles Unanimous!

Friendly online conversation that starts out with books and…meanders.
Here’s the Zoom link:

https://us02web.zoom.us/j/87614013058.

September 15th, 3 pm: Books That Changed the Way You See the World
October 13th, 3 pm: Favorite Poems & Poets
November 17th, 3 pm: Oddball Books
Free

peace, love, happiness & understanding 9/5/24
2024-09-05 - 2024-10-02
THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

September 5, 2024

Broken and broken
Again on the sea
The moon so easily mends.

Ueda Chōshū
_________________
We Are All Going into the Future Together

Johnny has framed this newsletter – Peace, Love, Happiness and Understanding – to give readers a sense of joy. He has asked me to write about being a futurist, an optimistic futurist, knowing that it is part of my practice to find good things in the world. Every day I try to find signals of hope from what is emerging – in the news, online, in conversation and from observation.

Two things about the future: there are no facts (as if we needed proof given our recent political stories) and, the future belongs to all of us. We are going into it together, learning as we go.

When I connect to people who think about the future we construct and play games as we set up scenarios that might come into being. Here is a recent one: millions of people will be migrating from too-hot-to-live-in places to places that aren’t as devastated yet. I’m in Oregon so people will be moving here for sure. How do I feel about that? What can/should I do? What problems and possibilities are there in this scenario?

My first thought is, “Wait. What? People coming here to my block? I don’t know them – they could be from anywhere.” I sit with this and then think how much I have and how much I’d like to share. I begin to think about how my neighborhood could embrace a new family. Could I put a small house in my yard? Could I find friends and neighbors who would pool money to buy a place they could gift this family until they could pay rent? Could I move in with one of my kids (or vice versa) and give a displaced family somewhere to get a new life started ? Could a group of friends build a house like Habitat for Humanity does? And then I start to get excited about exchanging ideas and culture with new people. As a teacher, artist and grandma I’d love to teach their kids art, or sit in their kitchen smelling their cooking, or share some of mine. My granddaughter could meet their daughter and who knows where that could go?

The futurists I hang out with are part of an online community started by Jane McGonigal. Years ago I read her book “Reality is Broken” because my boys were spending so much time on video games and playing Warhammer and I didn’t understand their fascination. Jane’s book opened my eyes to the foundation of games: to make a game you set a goal and then put obstacles in the way. Think golf: you could just walk over and put the ball in the cup. To make it a game you have all kinds of complicated rules involving special equipment, spaces, time, scoring. And though golf doesn’t interest me I began to realize that as an artist I set up rules to play by every day. Will I use watercolors or acrylics? Big brush or small – arm motion or wrist motion? Abstract or realistic? Political or decorative? And so on. What this has to do with futurists is the real game, the underlying game, is “What if?” What if I use only blues? (Picasso’s Blue Period.) What if I accentuate B&W contrasts and shadows? (Think film Noir.) What if I put lots of mirrors facing each other and walk between them? (Yayoi Kusama’s Infinity Rooms.)

Artists make up their own rules and play by them. Artists and futurists ask “What if?” to guide them to new places.

In our online group, urgentoptimists.org, we look ten years in the future and imagine:

“What if there was a huge climate event that knocked out food production across a wide band of the earth?”
“What kinds of new holidays and celebrations would you like to be part of?”
“What impact will AI have on medical care, education, business, art, politics?”
“How might we meet a new pandemic and what have we learned from Covid?”
“Tomorrow is the last day of trash pick-up for everyone, forever. What have you (and your town/city) done to get ready for this moment?”

Jane’s recent book is “Imaginable: How to See the Future Coming and Be Ready for Anything.” As a game developer she knows how to make learning interesting and inventive. For Urgent Optimists she designs a scenario, like the ones above, and we are prompted each day for a week to write and post journal entries from the future (usually ten years, so 2034); or create an artifact (design a poster for the new holiday “Ancestor Appreciation Day”); or contribute to a poll that asks how we’d feel being in 110 degree weather for a week.

From all around the globe people answer Jane’s prompts as if they’re in 2034 and this is their reality. They share hopes, fears and cautions. They sleuth out signs that whatever-it-is is starting to happen now. Many places around the world have had 110 degree weather for a week and more, and that number is increasing. Where do we see signs of solutions?

This is foresight as a verb. Once your mind has gone to that place, no matter what question it is answering, you have a different way of imagining the future. You’ve imagined the people you are connected to in that future: your family, friends, neighbors, city, country, globe. Everyone and everything plays together: mycelium and birds and streams and avalanches and a girl eating a corn dog at the county fair in Nebraska or a boy eating yak-on-a-stick in Mongolia all come together – the yin and the yang of the great wheel of fortune. The murderer who types on a computer and the one with a sawed off shotgun. The baby blessed and the baby abandoned. The open road and the closed cell. We are all going into the future together. But since there are no facts, you and I are just as expert at drawing a picture of it. We are all immigrants in the future, dancing as we go.

—Jill Littlewood
*

Like all the other hippies, back in the day, I spent a lot of reading and re-reading The Whole Earth Catalog. It was a kind of Bible to us. It was a way of finding out about things before there was an Internet. A futurist and inventor named Buckminster Fuller was prominently featured in its pages. He invented the geodesic dome, and many of us dutifully did our best to build them on our hippie communes. As a young man “Bucky” had spent a lot of time imagining the future, what problems might arise, and how to solve them. He hoped that by getting a 50-year head start on the problems, by the time they arrived we’d be ready for them. Maybe we could even prevent some bad things from happening. A book of some of his speeches was titled Utopia or Oblivion. Those were our choices, he said. Since oblivion is not very interesting, he decided to devote his intelligence, imagination and energy to utopia.

Fuller invented something he called “The World Game.” The object of the World Game is to “make the world work.” Anyone can play. Maybe everyone is already playing it, but some strategies aren’t working out too well.

If you imagine you have enemies, you might prepare to fight. You might actually fight. If you imagine you have no enemies, the world is not such a scary place. Instead of imagining a world of warring nations, we might imagine that there is one human family. We might take it a step further and imagine that we love everyone—including plants, animals, clouds and stones. How would that feel?

I asked my friend Howard what he thought the future would be like. “Like the present,” he said.

When I asked Jill which of Robert Crumb’s visions of the future is most likely, she said, “All of them.”

At this moment on our big beautiful planet, everything imaginable is happening right now, and many things that we can’t imagine. The newspaper reminds us of the wars and other catastrophes. Meanwhile, birds and butterflies are migrating, children are playing, bees are spending their days pollinating flowers, mammals are falling in love, puffy white clouds are floating by. It has ever been so.

Not only do we not know what will happen next, we don’t know what is happening right now. Somehow, our eyes, brain and nervous system present the appearance of a three-dimensional colorful world to us. Somehow, my heart keeps beating. Somehow, I digest my food. I don’t know how any of these things work, but they do. The whole ecosphere, including us, is a complex example of what Thich Nhat Hanh calls “interbeing.” In the future, I predict that everything will continue to inter-be.

Some of the ever-changing happenings are wonderful. Some are terrible. Personally, I want to be on the Fun Team. I’d rather be kind than mean. I’d rather be happy than sad. I’d rather be good than bad. I’d rather have friends than enemies. I’d rather be part of the healing than part of the wounding. I’d rather live in love.

In the future, as in the past and present, there will be injustice. And tragedy. There’s no way around it. We’re all gonna die! That’s the way this game is played. Life and death go together. While I’m alive, I want to live! I want to live a life rich in meaning—with lots of friendship and laughter. I often think of the words from a song by Laura Nyro:

And when I die, and when I’m dead, dead and gone,
there’ll be one child born, and the world will carry on,
carry on.

—Johnny Stallings
*

It is Sunday,—-September 1st! Thank god! Finally! The sun, although hot, is slanting at its oblique, golden angle, and the heat is less intense. Goodbye to the hot, flattening blasts of July and August. The nights are cooler; the sun is rising later and later, and setting earlier. I love the darkness.

I am driving and listening to All Classical. They’re playing Autumn, of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons; Autumn Divertimento by Constantini; September Song by Kurt Weill…well, someone else obviously is happy about this month, this season.

My chrysanthemums are blooming, russet red, sunshine gold; the tomatoes plump and ripe.

I am euphoric, incandescent with joy. Peace love happiness and understanding coalesce into one moment of palpable transcendence. Sometimes there are these moments. I feel enveloped by abundance and love and joy.

Could this moment be aided and abetted also by the fact that I am re-reading (for the third time) the sublime Becoming Duchess Goldblatt? No doubt about it. For those of you who have not read about the Duchess, I would just like to quote some of the (anonymous) author’s words. Words that are nothing less than the beauty that comprises peace, love, happiness and understanding. I won’t go into the ‘plot;’ it’s too complicated. Here we go:

“My lifelong training as my father’s child has been instructive here. How do you love everybody? Surely you can’t love everybody. Surely some people don’t deserve it.

I used to ask my father about this all the time.

‘I’m not sure what you mean by ‘deserve,’ he’d say. “You love people because they’re people, because they’re human beings. Not necessarily because you enjoy their company, which is one kind of love, but because you recognize they’re inherently worthy. Every person is inherently worthy. I’d argue it’s your obligation, regardless of whether you think it’s your job to decide if they’ve earned it.’”

Lyle Lovett figures into the story (really!), and he offers thoughts about the Duchess:

“Duchess is such a unifying force of nature. That’s your book, as I’m sure you’ve already considered: how we can all be connected, how we all are connected by the most basic and most powerful of all, love, and the acceptance that comes with it.”

The Duchess/anonymous author as a young girl being chastised by a nun:

“I didn’t make eye contact with her. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. I kept my eyes down, but I heard every word she said, and I knew she was dead wrong. I knew in my bones, had always known, that my brother would eventually commit suicide, and I knew he was a child of God just as much as anybody else, and I knew that when he died he would be welcomed into heaven. If she’d ever seen despair up close, she would know what I knew, that God understands the nature of a broken heart. The saddest people will always be allowed to go home first.”

So with these heartbreakingly beautiful words, I leave it to you to enjoy, cherish, love, and celebrate this book and this season.

—Jude Russell

¡Bardaphilia! FALL 2024
2024-09-13 - 2024-11-15
Leonardo DiCaprio & Claire Danes in the Bay Lehman film “Romeo + Juliet”

“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players…”

¡Bardaphilia!

If you don’t already love Shakespeare, this class will remedy that. And if you do…you know there’s nothing more fun than reading the plays and poems together with friends. Actor and director Johnny Stallings (stallingsjohnny@gmail.com) is the genial host.
Friday evenings, 7-9 pm, at Taborspace, 5441 SE Belmont
September 13th, Muir Hall: Shakespeare the Storyteller (with special guest J Kahn) (This was changed to an online event because of Covid exposure.)
October 25th, Artspace Room: Measure for Measure
November 15th Artspace Room: Shakespeare on Film
This is a FREE Open Road Event

The Marvelous Adventure of Cabeza de Vaca 9/21/24
2024-09-21 19:00 - 21:00
The Marvelous Adventure of Cabeza de Vaca

Johnny Stallings reads Haniel Long’s version of this astonishing true tale, followed by dialogue.
This is an Open Road Event.

Artspace in Taborspace, 5441 SE Belmont
Saturday, September 21, 7 pm
Free

An Iliad 9/26/24
2024-09-26 19:30 - 21:30
Open Road Recommends:
An Iliad
Before taking this show on tour to prisons in Wisconsin, Vermont, Maine and Oregon, Paul Susi (actor) and Anna Fritz (cellist) perform this powerful play by Lisa Peterson & Denis O’Hare as part of the Risk/Reward Festival.
This is a great show! DON’T MISS THIS RARE OPPORTUNITY TO SEE IT!!!

Ellen Bye Theatre at Portland Center Stage, 128 NW 11th Ave.
September 26, at 7:30 pm
Get TICKETS

peace, love, happiness & understanding 10/3/24
2024-10-03 - 2024-11-06
THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

October 3, 2024

I’ve been having a conversation with myself in my journal for the past 54 years, or so. Here are excerpts from the entry for January 16th, followed by a brief essay, “perfect moments,” that I wrote on January 17th, followed by excerpts from what I wrote on January 23rd:

monday, september 16th

perfect day
perfect silence
perfect coffee
this home is a well-ordered place of refuge for two human beings
outside these walls, in some places, perfect chaos and confusion
perfect fear…
perfect sorrow…
perfect healing…
perfect love
the neon sign says: LOVE WINS
so it must be true…
the dance of shadows on the wall…
helping to co-create culture that nurtures—a local and a global culture of peace, love, happiness & understanding—begins with my own deep peace, love, happiness & understanding
a silence that is free of fear and hatred
love for everyone and everything
boundless joy
continuing to improve my understanding of what’s going on here by learning from wise thoughtful intelligent people
in order to be more helpful
to choose wisely
to not utter words that are hurtful
there’s a rough and tumble aspect to human life
don’t be too attached to non-attachement
or to ideas of no-self, ātman, et cetera
don’t forget to laugh and have fun
don’t take yourself or your opinions too seriously
feel the beauty of the blue sky and the puffy white clouds
the green of the leaves on the trees and bushes and grass
the bright flowers
the bright flowers!
i know why buddha held up a flower
the surprising thing is that everyone in the assembly didn’t get enlightenment at that moment
the bewildering thing is that we live in a world that has flowers in it and yet people hurt each other
how can this be?
i guess it’s because there are other things besides flowers in the world
there are, for example, guns…
i feel bad for the people who have lots of guns and no flowers…
in a world teeming with life, everything dies
and new things arrive
new people and plants and birds and bugs and elephants are always arriving
elephants!
wonderful beings!
monarch butterflies!
what a world!
it’s amazing that shakespeare wrote a midsummer night’s dream and king lear
it’s amazing that there are elephants and monarch butterflies
and hummingbirds and pansies
yellow pansies and little bright purple flowers
i’m in love with this world!

perfect moments

is this moment perfect?
yes!

i would like to sing the praise of perfect moments
and so i shall

everyone has experienced perfect moments
and yet many people are dissatisfied, unhappy, miserable
this is puzzling
this very moment might be felt to be perfect
and if it’s not, the next perfect moment might be right around the corner

the older i get, the more perfect moments i enjoy
i get a lot of blessings
i’m a happy man

to the extent that happiness is an art, and not just an accident, it might be the art of noticing and appreciating perfect moments

like this one

i like to start the day slowly, in silence
with a cup of coffee and two shortbread cookies
not by checking my inbox, or reading the new york times
i sit on the couch and look out the window
the backyard is filled with flowers
they are glorious, perfect!
perfect little birds come to the bird feeder
this morning: song sparrows, goldfinches, house finches, juncos
sometimes puffy white clouds float by in the blue sky
every one perfect

this morning the sky is overcast
have you ever noticed that some people say, “i love the rain!”?
on sunny summer days that are not too hot and not too cool, people seem to be in a good mood, more cheerful, more friendly
in portland, where i live, it rains a lot
it makes everything green
but people complain about the rain, and even get depressed
the person who says, “i love the rain!” is doing a kind of jiu jitsu
something that makes most people sad makes them happy
that’s a pretty neat trick

thich nhat hanh used to say, with a warm smile, “the present moment is a wonderful moment”
you might notice that most problems are elsewhere

if there is so much to take delight in, why isn’t everybody happy—at least most of the time?
there are countervailing forces in play
some are external and some are internal

to start with inner obstacles to happiness, we might look at “bad mental habits”
in this computer age, to say we have been “programmed” is a useful metaphor
our experiences, our society, our family of origin have instilled habits in each of us
some of those habits promote well-being
some do the opposite
some people are open, cheerful, friendly
some are anxious, some are angry, some are sad

of course a sad moment can be, and often is, a perfect moment
but to be sad all the time is to miss something that’s good for you—joy!

our external circumstances play a role in our feelings of well-being, or lack of them
a prison environment does not tend to promote happiness and well-being
and yet one of the happiest people i know is living in prison
he has mastered the art of appreciating perfect moments

people in ukraine and gaza and lebanon and sudan and israel are currently experiencing the terrible tragedy of war
and yet the experiences of people in those places are not uniformly bleak
there are perfect moments
there have to be, because an act of kindness is a perfect moment
and surely there must be many many acts of kindness under those terrible conditions
(ceasefire now!—everywhere, always and forever)

human life on earth includes tragedy, violence and injustice
they are exacerbated by fear, hatred, anger and greed
they are mitigated by love and kindness and joy and tranquility

to enjoy a perfect moment is to live—for a moment—in paradise
not the imaginary paradise that will arrive someday if we all just do everything differently than the way we’re doing things now
but a real paradise in this perfect moment

bankei calls this our unborn buddha mind
and asks why anyone would want to exchange their unborn buddha mind for the mind of a hungry ghost

perfect moments don’t necessarily have anything to do with religion or spirituality— although spiritual practices and religious symbols create perfect moments for many people
perfect moments are democratic
they’re available to anyone, anywhere, anytime
special environments, like japanese gardens, are sometimes created so that people who go there are more likely to experience perfect moments
a garden is a paradise
my local tea shop, the tao of tea, is a place where people go to enjoy perfect moments, alone or with friends

in quest of perfect moments, people go for walks in nature, listen to and play music, make art, read and write poems, make love
my own predilection is for simple pleasures
they’re readily available, cost nothing, and require no effort

it is my hope that while reading these meandering words you had a perfect moment
or remembered a perfect moment
or felt the importance of appreciating perfect moments
so that, over time, you enjoy so many perfect moments that you can’t believe how lucky you are to live in a world filled with miracle and beauty

monday, september 23rd

it’s hard to get used to the idea that we don’t know
because we like to pretend we do

from Endymion

BOOK 1

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o’er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
‘Gainst the hot season; the mid forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms…

—John Keats (1795-1821)

i was talking with howard on the phone last night
i was trying to say something about pansies and moments

we have ideas that there are bad times and good times
“the dark ages,” “the enlightenment,” et cetera
we don’t know
the perfect moment in which i enjoy the pansies on our porch and the little purple flowers (lobelia!) beside them—that moment has no boundary
to say that the moment is “fleeting” is an idea about the moment
the moment itself has no idea, no duration
it is neither long nor short
it has nothing to do with “time”
time is another idea
for me, one yellow pansy is more important than the War of 1812
“more important” isn’t right
it has nothing to do with the relative importance of one thing or another thing
four and a half billion years is not longer than a moment
the bonneville dam is not more important or less important than a yellow pansy
the question of whether things are getting “better” or “worse” has nothing to do with the pansy

keats said it perfectly:
a thing of beauty is a joy for ever
he was right
that’s true
the pansy gives me boundless pleasure
infinite delight
enjoying a pansy for a moment makes my whole life “worthwhile”
i’m happy that i got to come to planet earth and enjoy the pansies and lobelia

what about the horrors of war?
the horrors of war are unspeakably horrible
people should be growing pansies instead of killing each other
why they’re not remains a mystery
we have theories about the causes of war
here’s my theory about what causes war:
unhappiness

the cure for war?
peace, love, happiness & understanding

by living in love and peace and joy we are setting a good example for our fellow mortals

walt says:
each moment and whatever happens thrills me with joy
&
this minute that comes to me over the past decillions,
there is no better than it and now

krishnamurti speaks of “freedom from the known”…

blake says:
eternity is in love with the productions of time
&
to see a world in a grain of sand
and a heaven in a wild flower
hold infinity in the palm of your hand
and eternity in an hour…

there’s no such thing as death
either you’re alive, or you’re not
only people who are alive can read this
squirrels can’t read it
they don’t need to
they’re busy “living in the present moment”
*

In 1971, Charles Erickson and I met a Dutch sailor in India named Jules Dams. Jules posted something about John Wesley on Facebook that Charles forwarded to me:

John Wesley’s Manifesto

Reduce the gap between rich people and poor people
Help everyone to have a job
Help the poorest, including introducing a living wage
Offer the best possible education
Help everyone to feel that they can make a difference
Promote tolerance
Promote equal treatment for women
Create a society based on values and not on profits and consumerism
End all forms of slavery
Avoid getting into wars
Share the love of God with everyone
Care for the environment

John Wesley (1703-1791) was founder of the Methodist Church. This “manifesto” “based on his writings” is on display at the Wesley Museum in Bristol, England. As a kid, my family went to the Methodist Church. Maybe some seeds were planted.

—Johnny Stallings
*

Inspired by Martha and Elizabeth during Bibliophiles, I went back to read a mystery by an author I loved. In 1975 Wilhelm Van de Vettering wrote Outsider in Amsterdam, whose main character reflected his own—a zen student, jazz musician, cat-loving policeman living in Amsterdam. Very low key plot.

At one point this character meets a housebound sedentary old man on a house call. He feels that his life is thankfully so different from this man’s world, when he spies the man’s record collection. They share the same taste in music and they have all the same records!

Everything stops…they have this moment.

When asked, the old man says, yes, he has had these moments before…

“I never quite understood them. Something occurs, you notice something, and suddenly the moment is there. You can’t explain it, maybe you don’t want to explain it. I remember when it happened for the first time. I saw a hornbill in the zoo. Some people call them rhinoceros-birds. It looked so weird that suddenly my whole life changed. I saw my life differently. I knew it would change back again and become boring again, ordinary, everyday life. But that moment it was all different. The logic had been knocked out of it….Nobody can explain a hornbill to me. That’s the beauty of it maybe.”

That was very satisfying in itself; I thoroughly enjoyed reading the fifty year old book again. The next day I went with my grandkids to the zoo; I hadn’t been to the zoo for ever. We were going through the giraffe’s area and there was a most unusual bird staring up at us. A sign said, The Hornbill! I had read 11-year-old Sylvan the passage from Outsider in Amsterdam, and he asked me, with a smile, “Are you having a hornbill moment, Grandma?” I laughed and told him, “No, but I have had them before.”

To these moments that always stay with us, however absurd, and make no sense to anyone else’s reality, but are so meaningful to us!

This makes me think of a great William Stafford poem –

Why I Am Happy

Now has come, an easy time. I let it
roll. There is a lake somewhere
so blue and far nobody owns it.
A wind comes by and a willow listens
gracefully.

I hear all this, every summer. I laugh
and cry for every turn of the world,
its terribly cold, innocent spin.
That lake stays blue and free; it goes
on and on.

And I know where it is.

—William Stafford

peace and joy,
—Katie Radditz

¡Bibliophiles Unanimous! 10/13/24
2024-10-13 15:00 - 17:00
¡Bibliophiles Unanimous!

Friendly online conversation that starts out with books and…meanders.
Here’s the Zoom link:

https://us02web.zoom.us/j/87614013058.

October 13th, 3 pm: Favorite Poems & Poets (Bring a poem to read!)
November 17th, 3 pm: Oddball Books
Free

¡Bardaphilia!: Measure for Measure 10/25/24
2024-10-25 19:00 - 21:00
Mark Rylance as Duke Vincentio, Shakespeare’s Globe, 2005

¡Bardaphilia!

Measure for Measure

But man, proud man,
Dressed in a little brief authority,
Most ignorant of what he’s most assured,
His glassy essence, like an angry ape
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven
As makes the angels weep, who with our spleens*
Would all themselves laugh mortal.**

–Isabella, Measure for Measure, Act 2, scene 2

* organ thought to control laughter
**(Proverbial: “to die laughing”)

For our Shakespeare class on Friday, October 25th, we will be exploring the darkly comic world of Measure for Measure! We will focus on Act 2.
Reading the play beforehand is recommended, but you don’t need to know the play to enjoy the class. (Folger edition has helpful notes on facing pages.)
It’s a great idea to watch a film version, if you can find one–but NOT the 2020 version with Hugo Weaving, which is not really Shakespeare’s play, but “inspired by it” in some way.

I hope to see you there!

Taught by Johnny Stallings
Friday evening, October 25th, 7-9 pm
Artspace Room at Taborspace, 5441 SE Belmont, in Portland
This Open Road event is FREE!

INFIDEL: The Notorious Robert G. Ingersoll 10/26/24
2024-10-26 19:00 - 21:00
Infidel!
The Notorious Robert G. Ingersoll

Johnny Stallings reads from speeches and essays of 19th Century America’s most eloquent agnostic and humanist, followed by dialogue.

Artspace Room in Taborspace, 5441 SE Belmont
Saturday, October 26, 7 pm
this Open Road event is free

peace, love, happiness & understanding 11/7/24
2024-11-07 - 2024-12-04
“The School of Athens” by Raphael

THIS IS THE 100th ISSUE OF peace, love, happiness & understanding!!!

November 7, 2024

Coffee Shop Philosophy

The first question is: what’s the difference between “coffee shop philosophy” and “philosophy”?

Philosophy is an academic discipline, taught in universities. Philosophy professors teach students about the Famous Philosophers and their ideas. The list of Famous Philosophers is not an especially long one. It includes people like Plato and Descartes and Spinoza and Hegel. Those guys.

Coffee shop philosophy is an informal inquiry into the meaning of life, which can take place anywhere, but thrives especially in…coffee shops. And tea shops. There are no professors. No experts. All participants have equal status. The questions are immediate, not abstract. They are personal. In academic philosophy, thinking has primacy. Coffee shop philosophizing includes thinking, but also feeling. Academic Philosophy asks: “What did Kant think?” Coffee shop philosophy asks: “What do you think?”

Originally, the word “philosopher” meant “lover of wisdom.” Is wisdom confined to what the Famous Philosophers wrote? I don’t think so. Here are some of the people who are not taught in academic philosophy classes: Martin Luther King, Walt Whitman, Susan Griffin, William Shakespeare, Black Elk, Lao Tzu, J. Krishnamurti, William Blake, Fyodor Dostoevsky—all wise people! It’s a much, much longer list of people whose writings can enrich and illumine our lives, but who are not Famous Philosophers.

Coffee shop philosophy is friendly. There is laughter! There are no grades. You can’t fail. Friends get together to talk about what is most urgent to them. It can include psychology, ecology, poetry, love, happiness, death! Everything! We wonder about the meaning of our life. What are we doing here? We want to become wiser, kinder, more happy, more free. We talk about our life journeys, what we’ve learned so far, what continues to baffle us.

I took a couple Philosophy classes in college, long long ago. For more than 50 years now I’ve been avidly practicing coffee shop philosophy—alone and with others. If you keep a journal, you can have a long long philosophical conversation with yourself.

I’ve learned more about living, more about happiness, more about love, more about freedom—more actual wisdom—from Walt Whitman’s poem “Song of Myself” than from any other writing. Because he’s labeled a “poet,” and not a “philosopher,” he’s not studied in Philosophy classes. I think of Walt as my friend—along with William Shakespeare and Thich Nhat Hanh and John Moriarty and Brian Doyle and many many other friends whose books fill my bookshelves and spill over onto the floor. I think of them as companions on my life journey, as fellow coffee shop philosophers.

The endless deep dialogues I’ve had with friends in coffee shops and tea shops and prisons have greatly enriched my life. For thirteen years I practiced coffee shop philosophy every week with men in Oregon prisons. There was no coffee. But there was something beautiful that I don’t know how to describe. I guess the closest word is “love.”

I love books! I’ve learned a lot from books, but we also gain wisdom from our life experience, and from sharing our experience and insights with each other. We need coffee shop philosophy! We need each other!

These days I still get together with friends for coffee and deep dialogue every week. We do it because we love to have big personal conversations about life and love and what’s going on within us and around us. Over time, we get to know each other better and love each other more deeply. That seems like a good thing for humans to do.

—Johnny Stallings
*

Can you feel surging joy and profound sadness at the same time? How can a heart handle both at once?

Once in the habit of morning walks with the dog, the habit continues without the dog, Lolo having died about one and a half months ago. She was sixteen years old, and we’d rescued her fifteen years earlier from Home At Last animal shelter in The Dalles. They had found her wandering the streets of Shaniko, a ghost town in Oregon. Scrawny and fearful, she cowered when anyone tried to touch her; but I knew that with time and love and stability and security she would be a perfect pooch. And she was. Hiking, backpacking, snowshoeing, beach walking—she went pretty much everywhere with us. Everyone loved her and she loved everyone. The great comfort dog. Any shred of anger, depression, fear or disappointment would melt away when I touched her silky ears. So you can surely understand the sadness I feel.

So what’s with the surging joy??? Is that possible? Well, I walk out the door and am kicking through huge, magical, golden maple leaves the size of dinner plates. They’re spinning, spiraling slowly beneath a vault of blue. Blue sky, white clouds, yellow gold leaves; how could I not feel a surge of joy?! It overtakes my heart.

More joy: It’s a good thing to spend time deciding whether you love October or November more. A contest for best month of the year. This is good: Is it the bustling oranges and reds and yellows of the buckets and buckets of leaves filling your vision in October? Or is it the beauty and starkness of the bare, black, muscular limbs once the leaves have shed in November? After all, it’s then that you can see through the bushy busy-ness of trees, to the hills beyond, to the mountains beyond. It’s then that you can settle into the spareness of November, settle into the cool rain patters, and the darkened mornings and evenings. I love it.

Can I feel both, then—-joy and sadness? I decree that yes I can, and do.

—Jude Russell
*

Kim Stafford’s latest book is A Proclamation for Peace: Translated into World Languages. In the book, his poem “A Proclamation for Peace” is translated into 50 different languages, including Arabic, Armenian, Ashaninka & Bislama; Gaeilge, Greek & Hebrew; Pashto, Persian & Punjabi; Quechua, Romani, Romanian & Russian; Tagalog, Tamil & Thai; Ukrainian & Vietnamese; Yoruba, Yucatec & Zapotec. The book can be ordered from bookshop.org. Here’s the English version of the poem:

A Proclamation for Peace

Whereas the world is a house on fire;
Whereas the nations are filled with shouting;
Whereas hope seems small, sometimes
a single bird on a wire
left by migration behind.

Whereas kindness is seldom in the news
and peace an abstraction
while war is real;

Whereas words are all I have;
Whereas my life is short;
Whereas I am afraid;
Whereas I am free—despite all
fire and anger and fear;

Be it therefore resolved a song
shall be my calling—a song
not yet made shall be my vocation
and peaceful words the work
of my remaining days.

—Kim Stafford, originally published in Wild Honey, Tough Salt
*

I also wrote a proclamation for peace. Coincidence? Peace is always something we can use more of, so I’ll include it here:

My Foolproof Plan for World Peace

I hereby declare today to be International Love Day.
And a General Armistice.
All hostilities must cease on International Love Day.
Henceforward, every day is International Love Day.

—Johnny Stallings, from The Nonstop Love-In: poems, stories, essays & other writings

shāntih shāntih shāntih

¡Six Mystics! 11/9/24
2024-11-09 10:00 - 15:00
“The River of Life” by William Blake

¡Six Mystics!
Han Shan, Hafiz, Thomas Traherne, William Blake,
Walt Whitman & Black Elk

Explore the poetry and visions of six mystics from different times and cultures in a workshop with Johnny Stallings.
This event is live and online!
The live event is at Taborspace (see below). For those who are far away, here’s the Zoom link:
https://us02web.zoom.us/j/86482174323

Rather than a brief presentation, I want to go into the material more deeply, so I’m doing a four-hour workshop, with a one-hour lunch break. There will be lots of opportunities for everyone to share their own ideas and experience. (We are all, in some sense, mystics.)
If you can’t stay for the whole time, either live or in-person, you are welcome to drop in for as long as you can.
If you have questions, or want to register in advance, contact Johnny at stallingsjohnny@gmail.com or 503-347-6869. (Letting me know in advance that you plan to attend, for all or part of the time, is helpful to me.)

This live workshop is in the Library at Taborspace, 5441 SE Belmont, in Portland.
Saturday, November 9th, 10-3 (Lunch from 12-1; bring a sack lunch.)
This Open Road event is free.

¡Bardaphilia!: Shakespeare on Film 11/15/24
2024-11-15 19:00 - 21:00
Mieko Harada as Lady Kaede in Kurosawa’s “Ran”

¡Bardaphilia!

Shakespeare on Film

For our Shakespeare class on Friday, November 25th, we’ll talk about filmed versions of Shakespeare’s plays and watch film clips together.

Taught by Johnny Stallings
Friday evening, November 15th, 7-9 pm
Artspace Room at Taborspace, 5441 SE Belmont, in Portland
This Open Road event is FREE!

¡Bibliophiles Unanimous! 11/17/24
2024-11-17 15:00 - 17:00
¡Bibliophiles Unanimous!

Friendly online conversation that starts out with books and…meanders.

On November 17th, at 3 pm, our topic is:

¡Oddball Books!

What, you might ask, is an oddball book?

Here are a few examples:

A book you have that you’re pretty sure none of the other bibliophiles have–and maybe haven’t even heard of.
A book that is unlike other books.
A book that has unusual ideas or things you haven’t heard elsewhere.
A book that is extremely imaginative.
Books written by or about oddballs or crazy people.

This is a free Open Road event!
Here’s the Zoom link:

https://us02web.zoom.us/j/87614013058.

Earlier this Fall, we had…

Books That Changed the Way You See the World (September 15th)
Favorite Poems & Poets (October 13th)

Dream of a Ridiculous Man 11/23/24
2024-11-23 19:00 - 21:00
Dream of a Ridiculous Man

Johnny Stallings reads his performance version of Fyodor Dostoevsky’s magical final short story, followed by dialogue.
This story–(see below)–is guaranteed to astonish!

Much better to experience it LIVE–bring a friend–but for those who are too far away, or don’t drive at night, you can watch on Zoom (at 7 pm, Pacific Time).

Here’s the Zoom link:

https://us02web.zoom.us/j/81824888865

Artspace Room at Taborspace, 5441 SE Belmont, in Portland
Saturday, November 23rd, 7 pm
Free

peace, love, happiness & understanding 12/5/24
2024-12-05 - 2025-01-01
photograph of flower & bee by Abe Green

THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

December 5, 2024

Jill Littlewood sent this:

Gate A-4

Wandering around the Albuquerque Airport Terminal, after learning
my flight had been delayed four hours, I heard an announcement:
“If anyone in the vicinity of Gate A-4 understands any Arabic, please
come to the gate immediately.”
Well—one pauses these days. Gate A-4 was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian embroidered dress, just
like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing. “Help,”
said the flight agent. “Talk to her. What is her problem? We
told her the flight was going to be late and she did this.”
I stooped to put my arm around the woman and spoke haltingly.
“Shu-dow-a, Shu-bid-uck Habibti? Stani schway, Min fadlick, Shu-bit-
se-wee?” The minute she heard any words she knew, however poorly
used, she stopped crying. She thought the flight had been cancelled
entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for major medical treatment the
next day. I said, “No, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just later, who is
picking you up? Let’s call him.”
We called her son, I spoke with him in English. I told him I would
stay with his mother till we got on the plane and ride next to
her. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just
for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while
in Arabic and found out of course they had ten shared friends. Then I
thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know
and let them chat with her? This all took up two hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling of her life, patting my knee,
answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool
cookies—little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and
nuts—from her bag—and was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the mom from California, the
lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same powdered
sugar. And smiling. There is no better cookie.
And then the airline broke out free apple juice from huge coolers and two
little girls from our flight ran around serving it and they
were covered with powdered sugar, too. And I noticed my new best friend—
by now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag,
some medicinal thing, with green furry leaves. Such an old country tradi-
tion. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and I thought, This
is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in that
gate—once the crying of confusion stopped—seemed apprehensive about
any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too.
This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.

—Naomi Shihab Nye
*

Miracles

Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with the rest,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summer forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring;
These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.
To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.
To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the waves—the ships with men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?

—Walt Whitman
*

On November 23rd, I gave a reading of my version of Dostoevsky’s short story, “The Dream of a Ridiculous Man” at Taborspace in Portland. You can find the text in Issue #63 of “peace, love, happiness & understanding,” (December 23, 2021), on the Open Road website (https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-12-23-21/). In the story, a guy dreams that he goes to a planet where there is no hatred, or violence or fear. When he wakes up, he wants to tell everyone that we can all live together in love.
When I first read that story, long ago, I realized that I too am a ridiculous man. To prove it, here’s a brief excerpt from my journal entry from yesterday:

isn’t there enough suffering in the world, without having wars?….
why do we have wars?
they’re not helping anything
war is the opposite of culture that nurtures
the culture of war produces suffering and death
how much money does the united states spend on the military and on weapons every year?
i don’t know
a lot
even a little would be too much
we should be helping each other
not hurting each other
isn’t this obvious?
we should be loving
not hating
loving everyone
all people and plants and animals and rivers and clouds and dirt
that’s what i want to promote:
love for every being and for every good thing
no thank you to hatred and violence and fear

—Johnny Stallings
*
Remember?

Remember that day
When the war ended
And you climbed from your trenches
And we oozed from our bunkers
Leaving guns and grenades
Bullets and bayonets behind?

Remember how we sang in the streets
Danced in the fountains
Crazy with Joy?
Remember how clouds lifted, hearts rose
Vengeance, bitterness, hatred and rage
Fell away like graveclothes?

Remember how we stood
Tall and happy
In the morning light
Eyeing the world
And one another
With new eyes?

Remember
How in that ecstasy
We forgot
If ours was a blue state or red
Liberal cause or conservative stand?

Remember
How easily we remembered
Who we were
From where we had come
Why we were here
Where we were going
And what we should do?

I will never forget that day
When the war ended
And trust sprouted and spread
Like a sea of green grass
Across every divide, covering every division
Uniting all into one state of grace
Indivisible, at peace
Under heaven.

—Will Hornyak, from This Altar of Earth and Sky
*

Canary in the Mind

If you descend to sorrow, take a little singer
to carry through the dark some color of he sun.
Tunneling through trouble, guard your little light,
shield your little singer for the good of everyone.
If your singer falters, if your mind grows dim,
If your breath grows shallow, if your days are grim,
feed your little singer seeds of hope again.
In the cave of grief, with every breath begin.

—“Canary in the Mind” is reprinted from As the Sky Begins to Change (Red Hen Press, 2024) by permission of Kim Stafford
*

Repeat the Sounding Joy

The camellias know
as do creatures
moving in piled
leaf litter, chaff.

Under yet unfallen snow
branches threatened by ice
plodders do their work,
distracted we laugh.

The hills remember
as do streams
fish swim on up
wriggling into our dreams.

Rumble underfoot
in the sky, repeat the story
throughout this land
sunrise brings glory

If we notice
as we stand.

—Elizabeth Domike
*

I’ve been listening each night to two owls who must have decided to stay in the neighborhood for the winter. Owls don’t migrate but they do move around some and often return or remain in a familiar woods. When they Who Hoot, I think of the squirrels and little rodents who are also trying to stay alive in the cold. But i do love their voices and am glad to have enough woodsy life to have them make a home here too. They make many of us beings pay attention. Here’s a poem by Mary Oliver:

Snowy Night

Last night, an owl
in the blue dark
tossed an indeterminate number
of carefully shaped sounds into
the world, in which,
a quarter of a mile away, I happened
to be standing.
I couldn’t tell
which one it was –
the barred or the great-horned
ship of the air –
it was that distant. But, anyway,
aren’t there moments
that are better than knowing something,
and sweeter? Snow was falling,
so much like stars
filling the dark trees
that one could easily imagine
its reason for being was nothing more
than prettiness. I suppose
if this were someone else’s story
they would have insisted on knowing
whatever is knowable – would have hurried
over the fields
to name it – the owl, I mean.
But it’s mine, this poem of the night,
and I just stood there, listening and holding out
my hands to the soft glitter
falling through the air. I love this world,
but not for its answers.
And I wish good luck to the owl,
whatever its name –
and I wish great welcome to the snow,
whatever its severe and comfortless
and beautiful meaning.

—Mary Oliver

—Katie Radditz
*

November 5, 2024. A day of reckoning. What was I ever going to do from this point on??? This is what I have been examining all month long, and this is what I have concluded: There are three realms in my life (and in others’).
First is my personal realm. That includes family, friends, nature, activities and situations I can manage, maintain, help, change. I made a list of those:

I can donate blood (done! donation #175 since I was 18)
I can complete my training as a hospice volunteer in the Gorge (done! Waiting for assignment.)
I can volunteer to walk dogs at the Hood River Adopt A Dog shelter. (Not done. We went a leap beyond and adopted a dog!) (She’s a work in progress. Progress, not perfection)
I can make a lunch/update date with my several ‘kids’ I’ve known for 30 years from our Youth-At-Risk program. (planning stage.)
I can DOUBLE my donations to favorite organizations (Planned Parenthood, Nature Conservancy, Doctors without Borders, OHOM, etc.)

Making this list and carrying through with it at least gives me peace of mind, happiness, and a sense of control.
Second is the national/country realm. That includes national politics, Trump, media, environment/climate change, et.al. ad nauseam. This is heartbreaking and infuriating, and, honestly, there is not a lot I can do to change or control this second realm. I will leave it at that.
Third and last is the universal/cosmic/infinite realm. Paradoxically, this is comforting; I am a speck, the height of insignificance, nada in the infinite time and space dimension, so nothing really matters in this universal realm. I am here, I will be gone, in no time it will be as if I never existed. Live my joy of life, do my best in my personal realm and…let the rest go.
The three realms. Amen.

—Jude Russell

A Proclamation for Peace Poetry Reading
2024-12-07 19:00 - 20:30
A Proclamation for Peace: Translated for the World (ORR) Kim Stafford & Friends read Kim’s poem “A Proclamation for Peace” in English and in other languages.
Saturday, December 7, 7 pm
Bold Coffee & Books, 1755 SW Jefferson
https://boldcoffeeandbooks.com/events/

Tenth of December: a live reading
2024-12-10 19:00 - 21:00
Tenth of December (ORE) Johnny Stallings reads George Saunders’ amazing short story.
LIVE: Tuesday, December 10, 7 pm
Library at Taborspace, 5441 SE Belmont
Free

Tenth of December: a Zoom reading (on the 11th)
2024-12-11 19:00 - 21:00
Tenth of December (ORE) Johnny Stallings reads George Saunders’ amazing short story.
ON ZOOM: Wednesday, December 11, 7 pm
Zoom link: https://us02web.zoom.us/j/87176604491

Monthly Online Seminar: Culture That Nurtures
2024-12-14 - 2025-02-15
Culture That Nurtures

In this monthly online seminar, we will explore various ways we can help to co-create a culture that nurtures everyone. Although people are welcome to present (non-academic) papers or poems, no advance preparation is necessary.

Here’s the Zoom link:

https://us02web.zoom.us/j/87193719372

Saturday, December 14, 1-3: Happiness! What can we learn from each other about happiness, joy, pleasure, ecstasy, humor, delight, well-being?

Saturday, January 18, 1-3: How Can I Help? In the wake of the recent election, everyone I know is wondering what we can do.

Saturday, February 15, 1-3: Creativity What can we do as artists, poets, musicians, storytellers, photographers, actors, dancers to bless and enliven our culture?

I hope you can take part in this ongoing Deep Dialogue!

This online Open Road event is free.

peace, love & happiness

Johnny

¡Bibliophiles Unanimous!: Poems!
2024-12-15 15:00 - 17:00
Emily Dickinson

¡Bibliophiles Unanimous! Friendly online conversation that starts out with books and…meanders. On December 15th, at 3 pm (PST) our topic is Poems. Bring poems to read that you have written yourself, or favorite poems by other people–alive and dead.

Here’s the Zoom link:

https://us02web.zoom.us/j/87614013058.

This is a free Open Road event.

I hope to see you there!

peace, love & poetry

Johnny

Solstice Stories: Tales for the Darkest Night
2024-12-21 18:00 - 20:00
Will Hornyak & Ingrid Nixon

Zoom Live

Saturday, December 21st, 6 pm, Pacific Time
Waiting room opens at 5:30 pm

Join Will and Ingrid
on a journey through myths, tales, poems and songs
celebrating the blessed dark and fertile dream-time of the Winter Solstice.
Anticipate equal doses of soul, mirth, magic and amusement
to brighten the dark time of year.

Recommended for ages 12 and older.

Donations are appreciated.
For more info, contact Will at: hornyak.will@gmail.com

peace, love, happiness & understanding 1/2/25
2025-01-02 - 2025-02-05
THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

January 2, 2025

Swiftly the years, beyond recall,
Solemn the stillness of this fair morning.
I will clothe myself in spring-clothing,
And visit the slopes of the Eastern Hill.
By the mountain-stream a mist hovers,
Hovers a moment, then scatters.
There comes a wind blowing from the south
That brushes the fields of new corn.

—T’ao Ch’ien (365-427 A.D.), translated by Arthur Waley, from Zen In English Literature and Oriental Classics by R. H. Blyth
*

I Believe Nothing…

I believe nothing—what need
Surrounded as I am with marvels of what is,
This familiar room, books, shabby carpet on the floor,
Autumn yellow jasmine, crysanthemums, my mother, my mother’s flower,
Earth-scent of memories, daily miracles,
Yet media-people ask, ‘Is there a God?’
What does the word mean
To the fish in his ocean, birds
In his skies, and stars?

I only know that when I turn in sleep
Into the invisible, it seems
I am upheld by love, and what seems is
Inexplicable here and now of joy and sorrow,
This inexhaustible, untidy world—
I would not have it otherwise.

—Kathleen Raine (1908-2003)
*
Joyas Voladoras

Consider the hummingbird for a long moment. A hummingbird’s heart beats ten times a second. A hummingbird’s heart is the size of a pencil eraser. A hummingbird’s heart is a lot of the hummingbird. Joyas voladoras, flying jewels, the first white explorers in the Americas called them, and the white men had never seen such creatures, for hummingbirds came into the world only in the Americas, nowhere else in the universe, more than three hundred species of them whirring and zooming and nectaring in hummer time zones nine times removed from ours, their hearts hammering faster than we could clearly hear if we pressed our elephantine ears to their infinitesimal chests.

Each one visits a thousand flowers a day. They can dive at sixty miles an hour. They can fly backwards. They can fly more than five hundred miles without pausing to rest. But when they rest they come close to death: on frigid nights, or when they are starving, they retreat into torpor, their metabolic rate slowing to a fifteenth of their normal sleep rate, their hearts sludging nearly to a halt, barely beating, and if they are not soon warmed, if they do not soon find that which is sweet, their hearts grow cold, and they cease to be. Consider for a moment those hummingbirds who did not open their eyes again today, this very day, in the Americas: bearded helmet-crests and booted racket-tails, violet-tailed sylphs and violet-capped woodnymphs, crimson topazes and purple-crowned fairies, red-tailed comets and amethyst woodstars, rainbow-bearded thornbills and glittering-bellied emeralds, velvet-purple coronets and golden-bellied star-frontlets, fiery-tailed awlbills and Andean hillstars, spatuletails and pufflegs, each the most amazing thing you have never seen, each thunderous wild heart the size of an infant’s fingernail, each mad heart silent, a brilliant music stilled.

Hummingbirds, like all flying birds but more so, have incredible enormous immense ferocious metabolisms. To drive those metabolisms they have race-car hearts that eat oxygen at an eye-popping rate. Their hearts are built of thinner, leaner fibers than ours. Their arteries are stiffer and more taut. They have more mitochondria in their heart muscles—anything to gulp more oxygen. Their hearts are stripped to the skin for the war against gravity and inertia, the mad search for food, the insane idea of flight. The price of their ambition is a life closer to death; they suffer more heart attacks and aneurysms and ruptures than any other living creature. It’s expensive to fly. You burn out. You fry the machine. You melt the engine. Every creature on earth has approximately two billion heartbeats to spend in a lifetime. You can spend them slowly, like a tortoise and live to be two hundred years old, or you can spend them fast, like a hummingbird, and live to be two years old.

The biggest heart in the world is inside the blue whale. It weighs more than seven tons. It’s as big as a room. It is a room, with four chambers. A child could walk around it, head high, bending only to step through the valves. The valves are as big as the swinging doors in a saloon. This house of a heart drives a creature a hundred feet long. When this creature is born it is twenty feet long and weighs four tons. It is waaaaay bigger than your car. It drinks a hundred gallons of milk from its mama every day and gains two hundred pounds a day, and when it is seven or eight years old it endures an unimaginable puberty and then it essentially disappears from human ken, for next to nothing is known of the the mating habits, travel patterns, diet, social life, language, social structure, diseases, spirituality, wars, stories, despairs and arts of the blue whale. There are perhaps ten thousand blue whales in the world, living in every ocean on earth, and of the largest animal who ever lived we know nearly nothing. But we know this: the animals with the largest hearts in the world generally travel in pairs, and their penetrating moaning cries, their piercing yearning tongue, can be heard underwater for miles and miles.

Mammals and birds have hearts with four chambers. Reptiles and turtles have hearts with three chambers. Fish have hearts with two chambers. Insects and mollusks have hearts with one chamber. Worms have hearts with one chamber, although they may have as many as eleven single-chambered hearts. Unicellular bacteria have no hearts at all; but even they have fluid eternally in motion, washing from one side of the cell to the other, swirling and whirling. No living being is without interior liquid motion. We all churn inside.

So much held in a heart in a lifetime. So much held in a heart in a day, an hour, a moment. We are utterly open with no one in the end—not mother and father, not wife or husband, not lover, not child, not friend. We open windows to each but we live alone in the house of the heart. Perhaps we must. Perhaps we could not bear to be so naked, for fear of a constantly harrowed heart. When young we think there will come one person who will savor and sustain us always; when we are older we know this is the dream of a child, that all hearts finally are bruised and scarred, scored and torn, repaired by time and will, patched by force of character, yet fragile and rickety forevermore, no matter how ferocious the defense and how many bricks you bring to the wall. You can brick up your heart as stout and tight and hard and cold and impregnable as you possibly can and down it comes in an instant, felled by a woman’s second glance, a child’s apple breath, the shatter of glass in the road, the words I have something to tell you, a cat with a broken spine dragging itself into the forest to die, the brush of your mother’s papery ancient hand in the thicket of your hair, the memory of your father’s voice early in the morning echoing from the kitchen where he is making pancakes for his children.

—Brian Doyle (1956-2017), published in The American Scholar, June 12, 2012, and in One Long River of Song. a collection of his essays
*
Here’s a New Year’s essay by Michael Meade:

Finding Ways to Begin Anew

Although there can be no quick fix for all that troubles the world at this time, the aim of traditional New Year rites was to end the reign of the old year in order to begin everything anew. The idea was to follow the course of nature in which the world descends into darkness before the light and the energy of life begin to return.

The old idea was not simply the turning over of a calendar, but the understanding that a capacity for transformation and regeneration resides at the heart of nature, at the center of the cosmos and in the heart of humanity as well. The point was not to be naive and deny problems that must be faced, but to return to the origins of creation and symbolically participate in the capacity of life to renew itself.

For, small and insignificant as we may increasingly feel, we carry within our souls a spark that is connected to the galaxies and to the origins of creation. On one hand we are time bound, on the other we are secretly tied to eternal things that transcend the limits of time and space. By symbolically participating in the dissolution of time, ancient people were temporarily delivered from their faults and failings and had their original life potential restored.

Although this primordial sense of rejuvenation and renewal does not remove suffering or injustice from the world, it becomes more important if we are to avoid overwhelm and navigate the chaotic and exhausting times in which we live.

We live amidst a shattering of paradigms that radically alter familiar patterns in both nature and culture. As the future of the Earth itself becomes increasingly uncertain the search for genuine knowledge begins with accepting the sense that we truly do not know what the New Year might bring. To find the kinds of insight and wisdom we most need, we must accept the condition of “not knowing” that parallels the uncertainty and darkness that appear before creation occurs.

Inside all stuck situations there is a deep vulnerability that can lead to a release of unexpected imagination and inspired ideas. In Zen Buddhist traditions the practice of shoshin translates as “beginner’s mind.” Shoshin begins where received ideas and accepted patterns are left behind as an innate capacity to awaken from within begins with “not knowing.” The open and humble attitude of a beginner makes us less likely to simply repeat old patterns of behavior.

While those who claim to be able to solve the complex problems we face may claim dogmatic certainty, the openness of the beginner is more likely to find the true nature of a situation. A principle idea of shoshin is that in the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert’s mind there are few. Thus, beginner’s mind offers a particular kind of wisdom based upon a willingness to be at the edge where life remains open to many possibilities and unrealized potentials.

In keeping with the sense of many possibilities, the ancient term for beginner’s mind has more than one meaning. Shoshin can also mean something or someone that conveys “genuine truth.” Thus, it can refer to a work of art or a person that is genuine and not a fake or an imitation. When we draw from the root of our deeper self, we become more authentic and able to act in alignment with the inner spirit and the genuine aim of our souls.

As a practice, beginner’s mind can also involve the sense of forgiveness. For only when we forgive ourselves for mistakes and misdeeds can we let go of the ties that bind us and be released from the need to repeat the mistakes of the past. In that sense, not knowing, being open to change and forgiving ourselves and others turn out to be key ingredients in seeking to rejuvenate, start anew and be able to imagine and contribute to a better world.

Something ancient and knowing is trying to catch up to us and being fully present when a moment in time breaks open to unseen possibilities depends upon practices like beginner’s mind that help us to be authentic and original and able to start anew. In being more open and forgiving we become more able to unlock untapped capacities for creativity, flexibility, and resilience.

In the open moments of life we become connected to the heart of nature again and can sense what the ancients meant in saying that all of life is sacred; and all that can be a grace in the world and at the edge of every moment.

We at Mosaic wish for you and for all of us, that we might allow ourselves to be touched by the eternal, be blessed by the sacred and become more able to help with the healing healing of the Earth and each other.

—Michael Meade (https://www.mosaicvoices.org/)
*

News from Rocky Hutchinson:
11/24/24

Dear Johnny & Nancy
I’m getting ready for work right now & it is a nice, quiet morning. The sun has not yet cracked the sky, but it’s looking like a beautiful Autumn day, my favorite time of year. Nature is at its most alluring time for me, all the colors fading and changing, pushing out all of the fragrances. Birds nesting in the windows, spiders spinning their webs, beauty in everything I see.
The best time for me, the very best things are friends & family & food….

12/10/24

Okay, several more days down, I’m sorry I got caught up in all the Alcohol & Drug packets. They are much easier to do, due to the fact that I want to live clean and sober. I’m not fighting it in any way. So to me it’s all positive trinkets I’m picking up while walking along the golden path.
It is very early here & besides myself there are only two others awake, such a peaceful time of morning. Between the hours of 4:30 & 5:30 A.M….Ahhh, so nice! It is so could out (27°) and the fog is so thick that it is billowing on the windows like some scene out of a vampire movie, it is really quite cool. Our world is such a mysterious place & so beautiful. I’m in a condemned mental hospital that is now a maximum prison, engulfed in vampire fog! LOL
Today I will work on the big turtle I’m drawing. From here on out I will be keeping all of my works for my place to hang on my walls….
I received “peace, love, happiness & understanding” from the Open Road yesterday. They warm the heart always. I also got four Christmas cards. That’s the most I’ve received in quite a long time! The kindness I can feel in my soul is such a gift & in only a few months I will be able to reciprocate “all” of it with everyone in a normal social way!
When I do my emotional & personal & mental evaluations I’ve started to realize that my capacity to obtain, accept & reciprocate goodness can be done in volume & on a calm level, with a depth of sincerity that I can only describe as…peaceful harmony…like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It’s supposed to be good! I have this ability now because I have no more anger or resentments using up space in me any longer.
One of the many things I’m looking forward to is to engage in positive social settings. I’m a little worried that people might be scared of me. I hope that’s not the case & I’m sure it won’t be, but once people get to know me they will find out that I’m really a nice guy, smart & funny! I’m dying to be in a greater social setting!

12/12/24
4:35 a.m.

….Another thing I’m really excited about doing is going to an arts & crafts store to get supplies for drawing!!! All that COOL stuff! Man, that’s going to be fun!
Time to get this into the mail box!

Love & Light
Rocky
*

A Reverie

A cozy fire in the library.
Up in the ballroom
just a bed and the faint winter
light through leaded glass.

Out in the gulch the vines
twine around bare branches
of scrub trees, furry seed pods,
cotton against the rain.

In preparation, rusted parts of things long
forgotten grace willow arrangements
in chic salons with terracotta floors.
Men walk by. Smile half smiles.

Everyone dreams of the sun,
long bare legs, smell of land.
But now, there is tea and ceremony.
Musicians assemble in the drawing room.

Soon the Bach will ache and set us down
in the white dewed ground
as if we inhabited the heartbreak
reflected in the garden pool at midnight.

—Elizabeth Domike

Silence
2025-01-04 19:00 - 21:00
Silence

Johnny Stallings performs his theater piece about meditation.

Saturday, January 4th, 7 pm
Artspace Room at Taborspace, 5441 SE Belmont. in Portland

This Open Road event is free.

¡Bibliophiles Unanimous!: Nature & Science 1/12/25
2025-01-12 03:00 - 17:00
¡Bibliophiles Unanimous! Friendly online conversation that starts out with books and…meanders. On January 12th, at 3 pm (PST) our topic is Nature & Science.

Here’s the Zoom link:

https://us02web.zoom.us/j/87614013058.

This is a free Open Road event.

I hope to see you there!

peace, love & happiness

Johnny

William Stafford Birthday Celebration Reading!
2025-01-25 13:00 - 15:00
On Saturday, January 25th, at 1 pm (PST), we will gather together on Zoom to celebrate William Stafford’s Birthday. Williams Stafford was born on January 17, 1914. He left this Vale of Soul-making on August 28, 1993. There is a long tradition of getting together to read his poems (and other poems, too) in the month of January. Here’s the Zoom link:

https://us02web.zoom.us/j/84630878898

Please bring poems to read by William Stafford, poems by his beloved son Kim, poems you wrote, or some of your favorite poems from any time and place.

peace, love & poetry
Johnny

peace, love, happiness & understanding 2/6/25
2025-02-06 - 2025-03-05
Statue of Peace in the Plaza La Paz, Guanajuato, Mexico.
Note the dismayed soldier at the base of the monument, who is out of work.

THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

February 6, 2025

The earth is all before me: with a heart
Joyous, not scared at its own liberty,
I look about, and should the guide I chuse
Be nothing better than a wandering cloud,
I cannot miss my way

—from The Prelude by William Wordsworth (1805)
*

I love Love—though he has wings,
And like light can flee,
But above all other things,
Spirit [of Delight], I love thee—
Thou art love and life! Oh come,
Make once more my heart thy home.

—Percy Bysshe Shelley, “Song” (“Rarely, rarely comest thou,/Spirit of Delight!”)
*

We got a long letter from Rocky Hutchinson in early January. Here are some excerpts:

12-27-24

Dear Johnny & Nancy

Well, it has been the best year of my whole prison set. Since I’ve been here life has been richer. But the next step will be even better than this one….

While I’m waiting [to be transferred] I’ve been working on this packet that I was given a few months ago. The class is called: “My Personal Values and Ethics.” These are the topics that it hits on:

1. Determining 5 to 10 core values.

2. Select my top five values and prioritize them. I felt that my top 5 were: honor, ingenuity, continuous improvement, love & positivity. But I also flipped it & chose 10 things I want to get better at, to be a stronger and more ethical person. They are: Discipline, Growth, Continuous Improvement, Balance, Serenity, Leadership, Self-reliance, Confidence, Diligence, Obedience.

3. The areas in my life I want to focus on are: partners, family, friends, careers, intellectual & personal growth—contributions to community & humanity.

4. My areas of strength are: Art, music, problem-solving, foresight, insight, intuition, love, acceptance, kindness & defusing conflicts (“mediator”)!

5. Dreams: If it was my last day on Earth, what would I regret not doing, seeing, or creating?

My choice for “Doing” would be regretting that I did not ever share my whole self completely with at least one person. I truly in my heart, mind & soul believe that we should have one person we can trust to completely open up to in our life, without fear of judgement or ridicule. We would grow as a person, I feel.

My choice for “Seeing” would be two things: seeing the pyramids in Mexico & the Aurora Borealis in its peak season…both with my wife “if I have one!”

My choice for “Creating” would be: to create a setting or event for my closest, most dearest friends that is breathtakingly beautiful & peaceful for no particular reason…well, it would be made out of the deepest love I have for them.

6. Skills: What are three areas I strongly want to cultivate skills in that will in some way enrich all of my life experiences? I said: 1) A greater & deeper sense of taking in & expressing Empathy. 2) Verbally explain how I see the beauty of the world & in people. 3) Adapt to social situations better.

This is as far as I’ve gotten so far. Here are the other pieces of the curriculum:

7. Profession: What are the things I must do to feel fulfilled in my work?

8. Draft my Personal Vision Statement & how to develop it.

9. When to use my life vision & how to use it.

10. Three Essential Self-Development Tools for Lasting Change.

I don’t know when I will be leaving, but I do have things to do while I am waiting. This seems to be more productive than crosswords or video games. It also gets my mind off of other things.

The last few months I’ve had some lessons taught & they’re the kind that stick. They’re also the kind I don’t like because it makes me think & feel ill towards others. Before, in my past life, I would have reacted with violence. In a more recent, but past, life my reaction would have been anger, verbal confrontation and acting out. But now it’s almost a comic sense of approach to things. Now I keep my head & keep my peace in this type of situation. You teaching me to see them as children has helped out in every way! Now all of this makes me laugh.

No one, not even myself, is going to rob me of my peace & joy in my life anymore. I really do feel that due to the fact I’m always 90% of the time in a positive upbeat mood, that it has placed a target on me! LOL I don’t have time to care at all about it, if it is the case….

12-29-24

Well, I’ve come a long way from where I was in 2018. Looking back on the whole picture, the situation “prison” is somewhat the same, but I’m in a healthy environment here. No drama really, no violence—it’s good. Myself…well, I’ve changed and have grown happier & have overcome some trauma that played a huge role in “Everything!”

Recently, though, I have discovered a few things about life…my self…my life. I love the little simple things that people do, me included. A smile, a look, small talk, etc.

I do not like negativity at all! I used to be able to tolerate it, but now at all costs I try to avoid it. By making a greater effort to do so I have noticed I’ve been spending quite some time all alone. LOL I myself have spent too much time living in and with negativity.

My time in here has changed me, no doubt at all & my time is soon coming when I can truly get to choose who I want to spend time with & how I get to spend my time. Long meaningful talks about things that don’t pertain to prison. Adult conversations that…we grow from. Normal and non-stressful conversations with girls & not be judged for them!? I just realized how crazy that sounds as I wrote it!

Life is coming, my friends, & I’m truly happy and ready to live & to give of myself. I’m ready to apply myself to life in positive, productive, kind, loving & fun ways.

Wow, this letter got long! I might be gone by the time you get this letter. To be honest, I’m a little surprised that I’m still here. Man, I hope I get to see you guys soon. Till then…

All my Love
Rocky

[Editor’s note: Rocky was transferred to Powder River Correctional Institution in early January, 2025.]
*

This essay from Jude’s arrived a teency bit late for the January issue, so here it is in February:

The Kindness of Conservatives

Do those words even go together? You be the judge.

Our next door neighbor is conservative—-very. He hung his flag upside down until Trump was re-elected. Obama wasn’t born in the U.S. Had I known about the 2000 Mules? Hunter Biden’s laptop! You name it, if it came from Fox ‘News’ it was true.

They invited us over for a winter solstice party on December 21st, which we went to, as civil neighbors do. I can be neighborly, which I was, all the while seething inside. Their house was festive, and I commented on it. I told them that I was so exhausted from trying to manage our new rescue dog we’d adopted that we hadn’t even put up a Christmas tree—-for the first time in my life! So their decorated house was a welcome sight for me.

The next afternoon they called and said they’d bring over the dishes I’d left there. Fine, thanks. Mid-afternoon I opened the door and there they stood with the dishes and a wheelbarrow. In the wheelbarrow was a 3’ high fir tree planted in a 10 gallon pot. It was decorated with twinkling lights, spiraling red ribbons, and about two dozen silver and gold Christmas ornaments. It was heavenly!! They smiled and said, “We thought you shouldn’t be without a Christmas tree this year.” They’d gone up into the woods and dug a tree, planted it and decorated it for David and me. I was so shocked and moved; I burst into tears. “This is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me,” I burbled. And it’s true; I still love Christmas and all that goes with it. This gesture was the essence of Christmas, and somehow they knew.

We carried it into the house, plugged in the twinkly lights, and the house and my heart lit up and glowed.

Their family is scattered around the country, so they were spending Christmas day alone. I invited them over for Christmas dinner and they accepted. We spent four hours eating, drinking wine, and playing board games, with the Christmas tree sparkling in the background.

He will always be conservative and I will always be liberal, but this year peace, love, happiness and understanding prevailed.

—Jude Russell
*

a gift from Pablo…

Poetry

And it was at that age…poetry arrived
in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where
it came from, from winter or a river,
I don’t know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, not silence,
but from a street it called me,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among raging fires
or returning alone,
there it was, without a face,
and it touched me.

I didn’t know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names,
my eyes were blind.
Something knocked in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire
and I wrote the first, faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing;
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating plantations,
the darkness perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire, and flowers,
the overpowering night, the universe.

And I, tiny being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss.
I wheeled with the stars.
My heart broke loose with the wind.

–Pablo Neruda, translated by Alistair Reid, from Isla Negra: A Notebook
*

While in Mexico, inspired by Pablo Neruda’s odes, I’ve written some odes. Here are a couple of them:

Ode to Cardinalito

Little red bird,
every time I see you,
like right now,
I am suddenly
immensely happy.
Thank you.
I hope you enjoy
your evening meal
of bugs.
*

Ode to a Gym Teacher

There is an outdoor playground
at the Ignacio Allende school
across the way.
For many years
the same gym teacher
has been organizing games
for children
of different ages.
He knows
the games
that the littlest ones
and the biggest ones
love to play.
All day long
every school day
shouts of wild delight,
the ecstatic screams
of little girls
can be heard—
year after year.
Who is this guy?
I don’t know his name.
His job is:
THE HAPPINESS OF CHILDREN.
And he is a maestro,
a saint,
a bodhisattva.
I love
the sound
of his voice.

While some geniuses
are deciding
where to drop
the next bomb,
he is watering the seeds
of joy
today
and for the future
of the world.

—Johnny “Juanito” Stallings
