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DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20201210
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20201224
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CREATED:20201210T215757Z
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SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  12/10/20
DESCRIPTION:  \n  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nDecember 10\, 2020 \n  \n  \n  \n \nAristotle and Phyllis by Rick Bartow \n  \n  \n \nCharles Erickson \n  \n  \n \nAndrew Larkin \n  \n  \n \nHugo Anaya \n  \n  \n \nfrom Jake Scharbach’s sketchbook \n  \n  \npeace & love \n  \nJohnny \n  \n  \n  \n  \n 
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-12-10-20/
END:VEVENT
BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;TZID=America/Los_Angeles:20201206T150000
DTEND;TZID=America/Los_Angeles:20201206T170000
DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
CREATED:20201205T190417Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20201205T191037Z
UID:1550-1607266800-1607274000@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:Bibliophiles Unanimous! MYTHOLOGY with Will Hornyak  12/6/20
DESCRIPTION:On Sunday\, December 6th\, storyteller Will Hornyak will lead a lively Zoom conversation about MYTHOLOGY at 3 pm. Don’t miss this!!! Here’s the link: \n  \nhttps://us02web.zoom.us/j/82169567543 \n  \nInto the Mythic! \n     The world’s oldest stories are like venerable ancestors whose voices still speak\, offering insights and strategies for dealing with  contemporary issues and predicaments. Because myths describe great times of upheaval and change\, they are especially relevant to us during times of radical change in our own world.  Storyteller Will Hornyak will consider some ideas from mythologists Lewis Hyde\, Joseph Campbell\, Martin Shaw and Michael Meade about the vital nature of mythology and a “mythic sensitivity” to the world.  We’ll discuss how various myths have shaped our lives and our own personal connection to mythology.
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/bibliophiles-unanimous-mythology-with-will-hornyak-12-6-20/
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BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20201203
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20210131
DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
CREATED:20201202T231009Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20201205T193845Z
UID:1541-1606953600-1612051199@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:COLLISION REPAIR: Jake Scharbach at Froelick Gallery
DESCRIPTION:Sisyphus\, Titian 1548\, painting by Jake Scharbach\, oil on canvas\, 60″ x 48″\n  \nDear Friends of the Open Road \n  \nNancy’s nephew\, Jake Scharbach\, has a show at the Froelick Gallery from December 1\, 2020 – January 30\, 2012. \nHere’s a link to the exhibit: \n  \nhttps://privateviews.artlogic.net/2/1cdd977e49691fb0c6d57e/ \n  \nIf you live in the Portland area\, be sure to see the show! Froelick Gallery is open by appointment\, Tuesday – Saturday\, from 11 am to 5:30 pm. \n  \nHere is a link to a conversation with Jake about his art: \n  \nhttps://youtu.be/cbVVcRRxU2A \n  \npeace & love \nJohnny
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/collision-repair-jake-scharbach-at-froelick-gallery/
END:VEVENT
BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20201201
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20201215
DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
CREATED:20201202T222744Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20250426T170243Z
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SUMMARY:Hsin Hsin Ming by Seng Ts'an
DESCRIPTION:hsin hsin ming \nby seng ts’an \n  \nthe great way is not difficult \nit has no preferences \n  \nwhen love and hate are absent \nall becomes clear \n  \nmake the smallest distinction \nand heaven and earth are far apart \n  \nif you want to experience it \ndon’t be for or against anything \n  \nconflict between liking and not liking \nis the disease of the mind \n  \nif its deep meaning is not understood \nwe strive in vain to quiet the mind \n  \nit is perfect like vast space  \nnothing lacking\, nothing left over \n  \naccepting and rejecting \nwe can’t see the essence \n  \ndon’t get entangled in outer things \nor abide in inner emptiness \n  \nwhen the mind is still \nall views disappear \n  \ntrying to quiet the mind \nis just more activity \n  \ncaught in duality \nhow can you know oneness? \n  \nwhen unity is not understood \nboth activity and quietude are failures \n  \nif you deny the reality of things\, all things are lost \npursue emptiness and you stray even further from it \n  \nthe more talking and thinking \nthe farther you go from what is \n  \nstop talking and thinking \nand there’s nothing you can’t understand \n  \nreturn to the root and find meaning \nfollow appearances and lose the source \n  \nlook within for just a moment \nand go beyond appearance and emptiness \n  \nchanging appearances in this empty world \nseem real due to ignorance \n  \ndon’t seek truth \njust let go of your views \n  \ndon’t remain in duality \ntake care never to go that way \n  \nchoosing this or that \nthe mind is lost in confusion \n  \nduality comes from the one \nbut don’t be attached to the one \n  \nwhen the mind is still \nthe ten thousand things do not offend \n  \nwhen things don’t affect you\, they cease to exist \nno thought\, no mind \n  \nwithout an object of thought\, there can be no thinking subject \nwithout a thinker\, there are no things \n  \nthings are things because of the mind \nthe mind is the mind because of things \n  \nif you want to understand mind and world \nsee them as ultimately one emptiness \n  \nin this emptiness the two are one \nit contains everything \n  \ndon’t distinguish between coarse and refined \nand you won’t be for this or against that \n  \nthe great way is vast \nto live in accord with it is neither easy nor hard \n  \nthose with narrow views are full of doubt and fear \nthe more they hurry\, the slower they go \n  \nclinging has no limit \nwe go down the wrong path \n  \nin accord with nature \nnothing comes or goes \n  \nfollowing our nature\, we are in harmony with the way \nwandering freely\, without a care \n  \nfixed ideas can’t encompass what is true \nthey sink into darkness\, become unhealthy \n  \ndon’t trouble your mind \nwhy shun this and desire that? \n  \nif you want to take the one vehicle \ndon’t reject mental or sensory experience \n  \nto accept everything  \nis to be enlightened \n  \nthe wise man does nothing \nthe fool shackles himself \n  \nthe dharma has no distinctions \nthey come from our foolish attachments \n  \nseeking the mind with the mind \nisn’t that a big mistake? \n  \nillusion creates concepts like tranquil and disordered \nillumination destroys liking and disliking \n  \nall pairs of opposites \nare created by our ignorance \n  \ndreams\, illusions\, flowers in the air \nwhy bother trying to grasp them? \n  \nprofit and loss\, right and wrong \nget rid of them once and for all \n  \nif the eyes don’t close in sleep \nall dreaming ceases naturally \n  \nif the mind makes no discriminations \nthe ten thousand things have one essence \n  \nunderstanding the mystery of one suchness \ndifficulties are forgotten \n  \nsee all things as equal \nand all will return to naturalness \n  \nno descriptions or analogies are possible \nof this state where relations have come to an end \n  \narrest motion\, and motion ceases \nmove stillness and stillness is gone \n  \nwhen dualities are abolished \nhow can there be one? \n  \nin the end\, things are ultimately \nnot subject to law \n  \nfor the unified mind in harmony with the way \nall striving ceases \n  \nall doubts are cleared up \nestablished in right intuition \n  \nnothing remains \nthere’s nothing to remember \n  \nempty\, clear\, your light shines \nwithout mental effort \n  \nthought can’t reach this \nbeyond knowing\, imagining\, feeling \n  \nin the realm of things as they are \nthere is no self or other \n  \nif you want to approach and enter it \njust say “not two” \n  \nwhere there are not two\, all is the same \nthere is nothing that is not included \n  \nthe wise of all times and places \nenter into this source \n  \ntruth cannot be increased or decreased \none moment\, ten thousand years \n  \nno here\, no there \nthe whole world right before our eyes \n  \nthe tiny is as large as the vast \nwhen boundaries are gone \n  \nthe vast is as small as the tiny \nwhen there are no limits \n  \nwhat is\, is not \nwhat is not\, is \n  \nany other view \nmust be abandoned \n  \none thing is all things \nall things are one thing \n  \nwhen you’ve understood this \nthere’s no need to worry about not being perfect \n  \nthe stable mind is nondual \nintuition and mind are not two \n  \nbeyond words \nno past\, no future\, no now \n  \n  \n–version by johnny stallings \n  \nsome notes: \nThe Hsin Hsin Ming is the earliest known Zen writing. Seng Ts’an is the Third Zen Patriarch. He lived in China from 529 to 606 AD. The First Zen Patriarch was Bodhidharma\, who lived in the 5th or 6th Century\, and is credited with bringing Zen (or Chan) Buddhism to China from India. \nThe origin of Zen Buddhism is the Buddha’s Flower Sermon. One day the Buddha held up a white flower. Mahākāśyapa realized enlightenment\, and smiled. \nThe first Zen text comes a thousand years later. \nThe “great way” referred to in the opening verse is the Chinese word “tao\,” which also stands for ultimate reality in Taoism. The “it” in verses 4\, 6\, 7 & 14\, also refers to the Tao. \nTranslating Chinese is problematic. I am not a scholar of classical Chinese. I’ve made this version as accurate and clear as I can by consulting many English translations. \nI hope you find it helpful in your meditation and mindfulness practice. \n  \nMay all people be happy. \nMay we live in peace & love. \n  \n–Johnny \n 
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/hsin-hsin-ming-by-seng-tsan/
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END:VEVENT
BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20201126
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20201210
DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
CREATED:20201126T183717Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20250718T121541Z
UID:1504-1606348800-1607558399@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  11/26/20
DESCRIPTION:  \n  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nNovember 26\, 2020 \n  \n  \ni thank You God for most this amazing \nday:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees \nand a blue true dream of sky;and for everything \nwich is natural which is infinite which is yes \n(i who have died am alive again today\, \nand this is the sun’s birthday;this is the birth \nday of life and love and wings:and of the gay \ngreat happening illimitably earth) \nhow should tasting touching hearing seeing \nbreathing any-lifted from the no \nof all nothing-human merely being \ndoubt unimaginable You? \n(now the ears of my ears awake and \nnow the eyes of my eyes are opened) \n  \n—e. e. cummings  (1894-1962) \n* \n  \nGiving thanks. There’s nothing more important. It’s the difference between living in Heaven or Hell. Something so simple. And yet\, some people’s brains accidentally got programmed to complain. I usually start the day by noticing the miraculousness of everything\, without exception\, and then…feeling grateful. Every day a day of thanksgiving. \n* \n  \nPoetry \n  \nAnd it was at that age … Poetry arrived \nin search of me. I don’t know\, I don’t know where \nit came from\, from winter or a river. \nI don’t know how or when\, \nno they were not voices\, they were not \nwords\, nor silence\, \nbut from a street I was summoned\, \nfrom the branches of night\, \nabruptly from the others\, \namong violent fires \nor returning alone\, \nthere I was without a face \nand it touched me. \n  \nI did not know what to say\, my mouth \nhad no way \nwith names\, \nmy eyes were blind\, \nand something started in my soul\, \nfever or forgotten wings\, \nand I made my own way\, \ndeciphering \nthat fire\, \nand I wrote the first faint line\, \nfaint\, without substance\, pure \nnonsense\, \npure wisdom \nof someone who knows nothing\, \nand suddenly I saw \nthe heavens \nunfastened \nand open\, \nplanets\, \npalpitating plantations\, \nshadow perforated\, \nriddled \nwith arrows\, fire and flowers\, \nthe winding night\, the universe. \n  \nAnd I\, infinitesimal being\, \ndrunk with the great starry \nvoid\, \nlikeness\, image of \nmystery\, \nfelt myself a pure part \nof the abyss\, \nI wheeled with the stars\, \nmy heart broke loose on the wind.  \n  \n—Pablo Neruda  (Chilean Nobel Prize-winning poet\, 1904-1973) \n* \n  \nKim Stafford sent us an approach to a daily writing practice. And some poems. \n  \nWriting as Ritual: Four Elements of a Daily Writing Page \nA chapter from a work in progress\, Writing for Happiness\, by Kim Stafford \n  \nBe the Eric Snowden of your inner life. \n  \nI had been writing for years\, by fits and starts\, when my father’s death opened a \nnew path for my life as a writer\, and as a seeker. By his last will and testament\, I \ninherited the care of his twenty thousand hand-written pages of daily writing \nfrom the 1950s through the day of his death in 1993. William Stafford’s writing \npractice had been invisible to me when he was alive\, because he rose before \ndawn to write\, and I did not. All through childhood\, I would see the literary \nmagazines where his poems were published appear on the coffee table — Crazyhorse\,  \nPoetry\, Cimarron Review — and every year a book or two would come forth. When people  \nwould ask him\, “Bill\, when is your next book coming out?” he would often answer\, “Which  \none?” \n  \nHow did he do that? Simple: he wrote something every day\, and his books \nwere made from about one day’s writing out of eight that he found worthy. \nA few weeks after my father died\, I started to carry the reams of his scribbling \ndown from the attic\, and leaf through his pages one by one. His scrawl was a \nchallenge\, and I sometimes needed a magnifying glass to examine the tangle of \nferal words to tease the meaning forth. But overall\, I began to see four elements \nin his practice that worked together in a way both practical and mystical. \n  \nI want to consider what my father’s daily writing pages contained\, and how \nthey worked for him — and how something like his approach might work for any \nof us who choose to give such daily writing practice a try. His pages\, which are \nnow housed in the William Stafford Archives at Lewis & Clark College\, exhibit a \nvarying daily mixture of four prevailing elements: \n  \n1. Each page begins with the date. Is that even worth mentioning? Well\, it turns out to be strangely helpful — in the act of writing\, and of course for keeping track of the writings. “Once I write the date on a piece of paper\,” he said once\, “I know I’m okay. I have made it to my writing.” This is the “open sesame” move of the daily writing practice\, for by jotting the date down on a page\, you have accomplished the most difficult first step: you have shown up\, and you have begun. The pen is active before any wisdom is required\, and you have stepped humbly into what William Stafford called “the realm where miracles happen.” \n  \n2. Then\, often\, the page would begin with some prose notes from a recent experience\, a few sentences about a connection with friends\, an account of a dream. This short passage of “throwaway” writing\, it turns out\, is very important\, as it keeps the pen moving and gets the mind sniffing along through ordinary experience. I call this stage “the boring prose.” You are beginning the act of writing without needing to write anything profound. No struggle\, no effort\, no heroic reach. Just writing. \n  \n3. Then there will sometimes be an “aphorism” — a freestanding sentence\, an idea\, a question\, a note about a pattern he perceived\, a puzzle. With the aphorism\, as we call it in his pages\, William Stafford would write a sentence that “lifted off” from daily experience to observe an emblem of thought\, a truth\, an idea\, or a private joke. (“It still takes all kinds to make a world\, but there is an oversupply of some.”) This provisional understanding from daily life begins to raise the writer’s attention out of the mundane into the gently miraculous realm of poetry. It is your own koan. \n  \nThe aphorisms in William Stafford’s daily writing rarely become part of the poem to follow (though a few of his poems are built from a series of such lines). Most often\, they are little wonders left to resonate as private treasure\, threshold\, key. A bell has been struck\, bringing the writer to attention. \n  \n4. Then he would write something like a poem… or notes toward a poem… or just an exploratory set of lines that never became a poem. Sometimes there might be a single line of lyric mystery. But he had taken a few steps up the ladder from silence in the general direction of song. \n  \nTo write the date\, some prose\, an idea\, and then poetic lines beyond prose — this can begin a process for distilling from ordinary experience the extraordinary report of literature. For this day\, again\, you have given yourself a chance to discover worthy things. Nothing stupendous may occur … but if you do not bring yourself to this point\, nothing stupendous will happen for sure … and you are likely to spend the balance of your day in reaction to the imperatives of the outer world — worn down\, buffeted\, diminished\, martyred. \n  \nWilliam Stafford’s use of these four elements is capricious. Many pages\, especially in his later years\, show only the date followed by a poem. His long practice has speeded the process. And even in his early years\, he can go many days without preliminary prose or aphorism—or he can jot a series of aphorisms as if he has been saving them to record in a rush. \n  \nMost of us do an assignment shortly before it is due. (That’s often true for me.) It’s better to begin the project when it’s first assigned\, not when it’s due. And\, I realize\, again and again\, it’s even better to practice self-directed searching\, writing\, thinking on the page — when there is no assignment given. This empowers the free range of mind\, of “hands-on thinking.” By something like this daily practice\, you build up a personal sheaf of riches\, a democracy of inner voices\, an archive you can draw from as needed for work and pleasure over time. \n  \nMy students once said to me\, “You give us a deadline for our writing. But who gives you a deadline?” A terrible sentence came to my mind: “Death is my deadline.” There are myriad latent discoveries in me. Daily\, I must bring them forth. For this reason\, several years ago\, I made a vow to perform this four-part practice every day. What works for me is to do this four-step process first thing\, before daylight. I’ve decided to enlist all four elements each day—the date\, of course. And then there is always something to scribble about from the day before—the boring prose. And then—what now seems an essential element in the process—the aphorism. To wait for a thought\, which always appears\, given time and welcome\, is the prelude to true practice. The aphorism is the hinge that begins to turn memory to thought\, event to idea\, scribbling to design. Then a poem\, something like a poem\, notes for a poem. \n  \nThis four-step process on the page became a more mysterious form of beckoning when I learned an idea from Buddhism while traveling in Bhutan. Each place\, I learned—each experience\, each person\, each dream\, text\, encounter—may offer four ways of knowing: \n  \nthe visible \nthe invisible \nthe secret \nthe deeply secret \n  \nSo there it is again: the date—visible. A scribbled memory from the day before—the invisible\, but palpable. The thought—a secret episode of the Buddhist “unborn.” And then … then whatever mystery may come next\, a secret so deep it will not appear unless you use something like this process to welcome what you didn’t know until you do. \n  \nAs I tell my students\, if you follow this four-step process\, or something like it\, you may not compose something of lasting value every day — but it will be a better day! It will be a day that begins with your own appointment with silence\, with attention\, with welcome. Something like this structure can lift your writing into a realm of episodic discovery reaching beyond a simple journal or diary\, worthy as those habits can be. Gradually\, inexorably\, you will accumulate riches to return to\, an archive of discrete beginnings to nurture on the path of your devotions. \n  \nBased on the legacy of William Stafford\, as explored further in my own practice\, I offer this four-part daily writing ritual as a kind of hands-on meditation. And with this pattern\, I propose a year of daily exploration founded in your own version\, as it evolves\, of this daily practice. What will it be like to experience the kind of sustained and sustaining life of writing you have long imagined? \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nWhile many have been locked down at home\, what’s it like to be homeless\, to watch the already fragile future dissolve\, your landmarks of support and certainty vanish? Here’s a poem for anyone feeling adrift in the face of change. I hope you can support programs that help those currently living outside… \n  \nMy Sheltering Sky \n  \nWhen I was born\, when I was helpless\, there were stars \nAbove me blue in their midnight galaxy. \nWhen I was hurt\, there were scars no one could see. \nWhen I was growing\, the sun was dimmed for me \nBy killing silence where there should have been a song. \n  \nDid you hear a song when you were young\, \nA chorus that sang your name with love? \nHow many little ways were you reminded of \nYour worth\, your chance\, your path to rise above \nYour struggles\, a way to feel that you belong? \n  \nOne night by the river when I couldn’t sleep \nFor streetlights glittering the water dark\, \nI looked above my troubles where I saw a spark\, \nAnother world\, a guide\, a star to mark \nMy destination far beyond my pain. \n  \nOn that shore I felt there was fatal door \nI could step through into waters cold \nTo quench my life before I got too old \nIn sorrows\, hard tomorrows\, I could fold \nMy arms and plunge into the deep. \n  \nBut then I looked above it all and saw \nMy shelter\, my sky where stars were calling \nAnd I felt that I was falling up instead of down\, \nAnd I wore some kind of crown \nThat gave me my ticket to the dawn. \n  \nNow I find there’s work\, and worth\, and wonder. \nThough I know my sorrows won’t be completely gone\, \nSomeone helped me carry on and find \nA wealth in heart and mind \nThat helps me know I finally belong. \n  \nFor I looked above it all and saw \nMy shelter\, my sky where stars were calling \nAnd I felt that I was falling up instead of down\, \nAnd I wore some kind of crown \nThat gave me my ticket to the dawn. \n  \n  \n Poetry Doctor \n  \nHow do you feel? \nHow\, exactly\, have you \nlearned to feel — to be  \ntouched\, to apprehend? \nThese twinges you have —  \nof compassion\, empathy\, pain —  \nhow long have you had them? \nHave they grown more intense \nwith age? Do they manifest at  \nsunset? At dawn? In the presence \nof beauty? Of suffering? \nDoes your heart ever skip? \nDo you ever feel dizzy \nwith delight or shame? Has  \nthe grace of a few right words  \never blurred your vision? Caught \nyour breath? Has your heart \never become a drum when  \na song’s words told you \nwho you are in secret?  \n  \nI’m afraid my diagnosis  \nmust remain incomplete  \nwithout further tests:  \nNeruda\, Dickinson\, Basho. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \n“Peace\, love\, happiness & understanding” will be bi-weekly from now on. The next one will come out on December 10th. See you then! \n  \npeace\, love & gratitude \n  \nJohnny
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-11-26-20/
END:VEVENT
BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20201119
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20201126
DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
CREATED:20201119T172542Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20201119T172723Z
UID:1466-1605744000-1606348799@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  11/19/20
DESCRIPTION:Guru Nitya Chaitanya Yati\, Peter Oppenheimer and Nancy Yeilding \n  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nNovember 19\, 2020 \n  \n“Peace\, love\, happiness & understanding” goes out to people who live in prison and to people who don’t. We might imagine—if we don’t take a little time to think about it—that people who live in prison are not free\, and that those who don’t…are. But our experience shows us that many people “on the outside” have all kinds of fears\, problems\, obligations\, addictions\, et cetera. They are not free. And if we take a moment to reflect\, it’s obvious that every prison resident has her or his own subjective reality. “On the inside\,” too\, some people have a greater sense of inner freedom than others. Nancy Yeilding sent this essay in which she talks about what she learned about freedom from her guru: \n  \n  \nFinding Freedom’s Firm Foundation \n  \nWhen I met Guru Nitya in the early 1970s I was\, without knowing it\, in the traditional state of a seeker of truth\, described in India as being frighteningly tossed about by the waves of the ocean or being like a deer caught in the conflagration of a forest fire\, not knowing which way to turn. My state was one that I shared with many young people of that time\, and many people of all time. Although blessed with many good fortunes—loving care in my childhood\, an excellent education\, free from having to face the extreme deprivations of hunger\, poverty\, abuse\, or slavery\, or to live in the midst of war\, which still afflict many millions of human beings—I was miserable. Every place I had looked for meaning and purpose in life had turned to ashes.  \n  \nIn high school I became happily involved with a local church\, which offered good companionship\, the opportunity to participate in good works\, and the chance to sing beautiful music. However\, as I learned more about the organization and the required set of beliefs\, the first of which demonstrated some pettiness of spirit and the second of which began to affront my intellect and sense of reality\, I slowly drew back\, disappointed. \n  \nAs I came to learn of the Civil Rights movement\, of what made it necessary\, and of the brutality that was often directed at the courageous people standing up for equal rights\, the governmental and social institutions of this land I had been taught to regard as the world’s “knight in shining armor” began to look suspect. Then US involvement in the Vietnam war—which led to the killing of civilians\, the wholesale destruction of the land of Vietnam itself as well as of its neighbors\, the death\, wounding\, and soul-torture of many young men forced to fight\, to die\, to kill\, or to face prison or exile and being branded as cowards and traitors—shattered any sense of pride I’d had about the nation and undermined hope for the future. Along with many others I felt compelled to oppose these actions by letters and petitions\, and by nonviolent protests and demonstrations. Although these actions had more positive impact than is usually acknowledged\, still the government continued to perpetrate violent crimes against humanity\, such as through CIA support of the coup to assassinate and overthrow the government of fairly elected Allende in Chile\, which was replaced with a reign of terror\, along with indications that this was only the tip of the iceberg in terms of immoral and heinous activities covertly conducted around the world. \n  \nAt Stanford\, students discovered that the grand university that had opened so many doors for us—to the bounty of human culture in art\, music\, literature\, to deep insights offered by psychology\, anthropology\, sociology\, the latest in scientific discovery\, and so much more—was deeply implicated in the war “machine\,” through research on campus and through links to the companies that were making the bombs and Agent Orange. We protested\, we brought about some changes\, but our hearts were sad as our eyes remained open to the links that expanded the “military-industrial complex” to the “military-industrial-educational complex.”  \n  \nDuring university years I fell in love with a fellow student\, who\, like every other healthy young man at the time\, lived with the threat of being drafted to fight in a war he felt was immoral\, so upon graduation we took two steps to provide some protection: by marrying and joining the Teacher Corps\, which offered its participants a degree in education and a teaching credential and the opportunity to contribute by working in underserved inner city schools (and a draft deferment!). We were posted to Kentucky\, where I discovered that I was ill-suited to early childhood education (the program we were placed in) and that the social environment was like stepping back in time fifty years. Skills I had honed at Stanford—of thinking for myself\, of speaking up and speaking out—served only to alienate me from most everyone\, who wanted no rocking of the boat\, especially by a woman. I left the program and began to flail about\, trying out many different ways to contribute to alleviating injustice\, poverty\, discrimination\, and violence\, unsuccessfully seeking meaningful work and community. Under the weight of my increasing distress\, our marriage disintegrated.  \n  \nI often became aware that the refrain of a popular song at the time was singing within: “any day now\, any day now\, I shall be released.” It was one expression of my deep yearning for freedom\, though at the time I would not have been able to articulate freedom from what or freedom for what. After returning to California I worked in various jobs\, and explored many possible avenues to meaning and happiness\, none of which proved lasting or deeply fulfilling. My life had the freedom of a will-o-the wisp: I went where the wind carried me. Although will-o-the wisps are delightful to see\, sparkling in the sun as they waft through the air\, and though living as one had many charms\, real freedom was elusive\, as I was also living on an emotional roller coaster and often felt adrift. Once or twice my path crossed that of an old Stanford friend\, Peter Oppenheimer\, who each time told me about the teacher he had met in India and his strong feelings that I should meet him too. Then\, on a spring day in 1973\, he invited me for lunch at the San Francisco apartment where he and Guru were staying\, hosted by some friends. \n  \nIn those days\, teachers from India often passed through the Bay Area\, where they typically appeared at huge gatherings\, treated with a good deal of reverence and fanfare\, rarely approachable by those not in the inner circle. So the first thing that struck me about Guru was that he was unassuming and available. He was even one of the cooks of the lunch! When we sat down he pleasantly engaged in conversation with everyone\, all of whom made me feel welcome. He had a way of making everyone laugh often. The whole afternoon had a relaxed flow. It was so pleasant that when I was invited to return the next day I readily agreed.  \n  \nThat day the invitation also was extended to come along to hear a talk he was giving to a group at a friend’s house. During the talk Guru began to speak about the universal Self that was also the most intimate core self of each of us:  \n  \nInexhaustible qualities of consciousness can be experienced as “I” in me and as “I” in you. It is the same cosmic “I\,” the Word\, the Logos\, that is expressed as the boundless universe—boundless both in time and in space. The transient “I” has the same substance as the eternal Self. What is here and what is yonder there cancel out in the silence of the unutterable and the unthinkable. \n  \nIt was like a bell ringing within as I resonated with what he described. Finally\, here was someone saying what I had always sensed to be true and\, importantly\, doing so in a way that did not offend my intellect. I wanted to know more. \n  \nAs I was being welcomed\, I drove each day to spend time in the apartment on California Street\, and to go along to whatever talks were happening. After some days Guru pointed out that his time in the US would soon be over and he invited me to stay with them for the rest of the time. I happily agreed. I made several new friends\, some of whom are dear friends to this day. There were delicious meals\, lovely outings to parks and beaches\, deeply meaningful classes . . . and at the core of it all was this remarkable person who—besides being wise and brilliant and funny and creative and loving—was happy\, happy in a way that was different from what I had ever encountered before.  \n  \nHe was happy and complete in himself\, not looking to any thing or any one to meet some need\, which would then make him happy. The image came to me of a fountain that continuously circulates. He was like a continuously circulating fountain of happiness\, with plenty to share. That engendered a deep feeling of trust\, trust that I need have no concerns about being manipulated or “used” in any way\, for here—amazingly—was a person who needed nothing from me! It gave me a freedom I had never experienced in a human relationship before. Unsought and unanticipated\, a surety of dedication to the wisdom and love embodied by Guru arose within me right from those early days.  \n  \nFor the next eight years\, to the extent possible given limited finances\, I oriented my life around Guru’s teaching visits to the US. I increasingly traveled\, lived\, and studied with him whenever he was in the US\, and eventually joined him in circumnavigating the world: with stays in California\, Oregon\, Hawaii\, Australia\, Singapore\, India\, and Europe. In order to have money to support myself\, I worked at a graduate department of a university in San Francisco\, I cared for an elderly woman in Palo Alto\, I worked as a typesetter and printer in Portland\, as a landscape gardener in Hawaii\, as a receptionist in an alternative health clinic in Australia\, a secretary at Stanford’s Learning Assistance Center . . .  \n  \nThrough those years a dynamic inner and outer process was taking place. Slowly\, bit by bit\, Guru exposed the falsity of the props that held up my faltering though intransigent ego\, whether based on background\, education\, intellectual equipment and attainment\, companions\, appearance…. At the same time\, through his university classes (Portland State\, UC Sonoma\, Stanford\, University of Hawaii\, University of New South Wales)\, his public lectures\, his books and articles\, and informally and privately\, he spread before all of us a vision of the vast panorama of the cultural\, philosophical\, and spiritual heritage of humanity\, giving us maps and keys to find and unlock the treasures. He revealed the profound gifts of the Bhagavad Gita and the Bible\, of the Upanishads and the Tao Te Ching\, Heidegger and Sartres\, the Buddha and Ramana Maharshi\, Shakespeare and Kalidasa\, Einstein and Eddington\, Spinoza and Kant\, Jayadeva and St. John of the Cross\, Van Gogh and Beethoven\, Basho and Rumi\, and so much more\, vividly helping us to see the links between wisdom-teaching and the creation of beauty and our own lives. Even more\, his own living example of love for each moment\, each being\, and every aspect of life created an atmosphere in which we had the opportunity to attune ourselves to that vision and those possibilities.  \n  \nHis vision was vast and the spotlight of his teaching highlighted a myriad of insights. At the same time it was clear that the philosophical vision and life example of Narayana Guru\, as profoundly manifested in his life through his relationship with his Guru\, Nataraja Guru\, was central. The teaching stories he told of his experiences as a disciple of Nataraja Guru were heart-touching and deeply stirring\, setting off inner reverberations that continue to echo with profound meaning. They inspired me to read everything of Nataraja Guru’s that I could get my hands on: The Word of the Guru (The Life and Teachings of Narayana Guru)\, Autobiography of an Absolutist\, One World Education\, One World Economics\, his unparalleled commentary on the Gita\, his commentary on Saundaryalahari\, and even his magnum opus\, Integrated Science of the Absolute. Each such encounter was like entering a new world and\, at the same time\, having the opportunity to examine my own past\, my experiences\, my assessment of them\, my conditioning\, my thought patterns\, and to throw out superstition\, prejudice\, confusion\, and replace it with clearer thinking and openness. \n  \nI soaked deep into Guru’s own writing as well\, especially once I started taking dictation of his books\, articles\, and letters\, and beginning to edit his books. Most profound was the opportunity to devote a hundred days to an in-depth contemplation and application of Narayana Guru’s One Hundred Verses of Self-Instruction (Atmopadesa Satakam)\, which took place in Portland in 1977-78. In the course of those classes\, Guru spoke about freedom in ways that articulated not only my inner yearning\, but the way I could feel my life blossoming: \n  \nThe passing moments of our lives are to be made lively and rich. One thing I have learned in my life is that the moment that comes will not come again. It’s gone. You can see the moment approaching. Receive it with open arms. Glorify it by enriching it with your joy\, finding a new value\, a new sense of direction in life. Have a renewed sense of wonder. Thus\, that moment becomes eternalized in your life\, it is a moment to be remembered and to be proud that you could live it so well. . . . \n  \nThe only thing is that you shouldn’t drift into darkness. Don’t look at the world as something horrid\, but as beautiful\, divine. Every bit of it. Then we know we are the creators of our own fate. Not through this individual ego with all its vagaries\, but through a full affiliation with the eternal\, supernatural light that enriches everything. Only then will we have the strength to become masters of the situation\, the whole beauty of creation\, the beauty that has painted the petals of the flowers\, which has given shape to the butterflies and birds\, which makes the mountains look awe-inspiring and the oceans look vast\, which makes the clouds float so gracefully overhead. This is where we find our true freedom. \n  \nYou belong to the same overmind of beauty. Not with your ego but with your spirit. Participation in it will reveal to you the divine artist in you\, the divine musician in you\, the divine intelligence\, the divine creator\, the divine lover\, the divine unifier\, the divine peacemaker within you. It’s such a blessing to be in this world\, to be born here and to live here. \n  \nAnd: \n  \nI can go from the physical world of experience to a dream experience to a deep sleep experience. If I go still farther I won’t be able to make any distinction at all between the subject and object. The world of the seer and the world of the seen come together until both are canceled out and effaced. One comes to a neutral area of unity. Once we know that there is an aspect of knowledge which effaces or cancels out the physical world\, the heaviness of phenomenality is not felt any more.  \n  \nFrom this you gain a new freedom. The freedom is to relate yourself to the phenomenal world\, with all the laws which operate in it\, and yet to keep within a calm repose by which you can sit on your own seat of absolute certitude as a witness. \n  \nGuru made it very clear that certain kinds of freedom were dead ends for those seeking lasting happiness and meaning in life\, such as the freedom of rejecting all that had come before\, the freedom of nihilism\, the freedom of pursuing lifestyles based on self-destructive behaviors\, the freedom of amassing wealth and property. At the same time he was not encouraging a withdrawal from participation in life. His own life abundantly demonstrated the freedom of relating to the phenomenal world\, with all the laws that operate in it\, and yet keeping within the calm repose of a witness\, resting on absolute certitude\, even when the passage through that world presented inevitable bumps. \n  \nHe inspired all who came to him to learn more about the phenomenal world\, to uncover its secrets through science\, history\, anthropology\, sociology\, literature\, art\, music\, and through paying close attention to and peering beneath the surface of what presented itself to us right where we were\, wherever we were placed in life. At the same time\, his classes\, his instruction in meditation\, his illumination of the mystical truths revealed by seers and poets\, and\, above all\, his silence\, glowing with serenity and fullness\, led us inward to our own essential nature. \n  \nWe all encounter\, to greater and lesser degrees\, the obstructions to freedom presented by concrete reality\, ranging from natural forces to our own nature\, from the behavior of others in our work places and families to economic constrictions\, and especially the terrifying dynamics resulting from injustice\, oppression\, war\, and natural catastrophe. The great wisdom of Guru’s approach lay in not denying such dynamics\, but in making it clear that we each play a significant role in either exaggerating or minimizing their impact\, as well as revealing our capacity to understand them more deeply and deal with them more effectively.  \n  \nHis own life offered daily evidence\, in the form of writing articles\, convening meetings\, and giving talks to expose and combat injustice and temper political and religious clashes\, writing popular books that revealed the world’s cultural treasures as well as profound philosophical expositions\, counseling thousands of people\, with deep psychological acuity and profound spiritual guidance\, taking action himself such as by sweeping a village road in need of cleaning or planting potatoes to provide needed employment as well as food or advocating for women’s health care or sponsoring celebrations of art\, music\, drama\, and poetry. At the same time\, how he dealt with his own physical suffering and disability provided a living example of what is possible when our identity is with the witness and not the suffering body. \n  \nI learned that the firm foundation created by insightful participation in the transactional realm\, paired with imperiencing our identity with the limitless light of consciousness\, supports freedom of ever-expanding dimensions: the freedom to wholeheartedly commit to manifesting our highest values; the freedom to explore widely and deeply as a blessed lover of life; the freedom to create unhampered by internal and external messages of inadequacy; the freedom to give open-heartedly without being stifled by fears of being taken advantage of; the freedom to be aware of ourselves as part of the ocean of all-pervading love. . .  \n  \nThe gift of such freedom is a priceless treasure for which words are an inadequate expression of the gratitude that continually arises in response. Life itself becomes the manifestation of gratitude and the celebration of love.    \n                \n—Nancy Yeilding
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-11-19-20/
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DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20201115
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20201215
DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
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SUMMARY:Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue 11/15/20
DESCRIPTION:Drawing by Charles Erickson \n  \nOpen Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue \n  \nNovember 15\, 2020 \n  \nWelcome to our third meditation and mindfulness dialogue! The numbers below refer to passages from the book Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh. (JS) \n* \n  \nM & M Dialogue Group\, \n  \nI regret that I have not opened my copy of Your True Home to start reading the wisdom within\, nor that I have not written sooner in response to and for the M & M newsletter. As we all know\, things seem to get in the way and/or we make excuses\, but something happened yesterday that moved me to embark on something. I reached my one year mark\, 365 days until I get released\, and so I will read one wisdom each day\, completing the 365 pages of the wisdom within\, realizing “My True Home.” \n  \nIn the book\, I believe I will find that\, as #1 says—“Your True Home is in the here and the now. It is not limited by time\, space\, nationality\, or race”—although I have 365 days until I go home physically\, my true home is not limited by time or space\, those 365 days. My true home is here and now within me. It is also like that saying\, “The home is where the heart is\,” and my heart\, and love\, is within me. As long as I keep love within me\, my home will be in the here and now. \n  \nMy 365 days until release started yesterday\, October 14th\, so I also today read #2\, One Hundred Percent. Although I look forward to reading #365—notice I did not write the heading name\, as I have not looked forward in the book to that final day—I also have thoughts of my life after these 365 days are over\, but I am still in the here and now. “Be there truly. Be there with 100 percent of yourself.” I can only take one day at a time\, it’s all any of us can do. \n  \nI look forward each day to reading a new wisdom from the book\, growing and finding a deeper meaning in life and within myself. With the added benefit of seeing the bookmark move closer to the end of the book\, signifying my physical release home. To all of you reading M & M Dialogue newsletter\, may peace\, love and happiness be with you and within you. \n  \n—Josh Underhill \n* \n  \nResponding to a couple of comments from the October newsletter: Johnny posits two seemingly dichotomous versions of “nirvana.” Either it can be accessed by a few rare souls who practice for many lifetimes; or it is an omnipresent perfect moment that is accessible to anyone who takes a moment to look for it. I wish to endorse a middle ground. Using one of the Buddha’s many definitions of Nirvana (and exercising a certain amount of editing): \n  \n“The practitioner may attain such a concentration…that the practitioner has realized the complete cessation of greed\, hate\, and delusion…Nirvana is realizable even during this lifetime.” \n  \nHistorically\, hundreds of thousands of people achieved Nirvana during the same generation\, and maybe they number in the millions across the generations. So\, not so rare. \n  \nBut to Josh Barnes’ point\, this state of mind seems very elusive. Omnipresent perfect moment though it may be\, we have trained ourselves to see only imperfection. We can thank popular media\, our parents\, their parents for countless generations\, society at large\, and most especially our own selves for our preoccupation with imperfection. But there you have the problem\, we have to untrain some old habits before we can “awaken” to the perfection around us. Venerable Thay describes this at #1\, the namesake passage for YTH. \n  \n—Shad Alexander \n* \n  \nI’m happy that Shad responded to what I wrote about nirvana in the October dialogue. I was hoping that this meditation and mindfulness dialogue would evolve into more of a dialogue as it goes along. Unsurprisingly\, his perspective is a little different than mine. I don’t know. I imagine that the word “nirvana\,” like words tend to do\, means different things to different people. For me\, one of the lovely things about meditation\, is that when we sit in silence\, we leave words aside for a while. When there is inner stillness\, when thought and language fall away\, we have no disagreements—not even friendly ones. For a time that has nothing to do with time\, we have no problems\, no explanations\, no wrong views or right ones. No greed\, hate or delusions. Whatever you call this\, it’s quite a pleasant state of affairs. When we begin the day this way\, the whole day somehow goes better. I think of “mindfulness” as the practice of living in meditation—to the extent we can do this\, which changes over time and even from day to day. This dialogue is a way for us to share our experience and understanding with each other\, and to use words to point to that for which there are no words. \n  \n—Johnny Stallings \n* \n  \nI decided to change the way I am reading my copy of Your True Home. Instead of reading normally\, front to back\, I am going back to front\, because the numbers are a countdown to me being released. Looking at the book\, I will instantly know how many days I have left. \n  \nOn 10/21 I read #358 “So Many Reasons to Be Happy” \n  \nI found it refreshing. I so desire to be one with nature\, to be in the woods\, smell the fresh air and hear only nature. To touch Mother Earth and for her to touch me\, feeling her embrace. It has been way too long for me feeling pure nature\, and reading #358 at first made me feel sad for what I have been missing\, but then I read it again\, seeing that “Whenever she sees us suffering\, she will protect us.” In this moment I am in now\, she is protecting me with the knowledge that soon I will have the chance to feel the woods and her embrace once again. I cannot wait for that day. \n  \nReading #355 “Your Suffering Needs You\,” on 10/24\, reminds me that every aspect of ourselves\, whether good or bad\, needs our attention. All the good or bad within us are the things that make us\, and they all require attention. But then #350 “Goodness Is Always in You” shows us all that\, no matter the bad things we’ve done\, there is goodness within each of us. Then\, on 11/2\, I read #346 “What Separates  Us” and labels are something that hurts every one of us. Society uses labels to dehumanize and to separate us into groups\, and if we can eliminate labels there can be peace in the world. \n  \n—Josh Underhill \n* \n  \nOctober 7\, 2020  THE SUFFERING OF THOSE WE LOVE \n  \nHOLDING AN EMOTIONAL STATE WITH MINDFULNESS—WOW! That’s a lot to “ask.” Having just finished reading For Your Own Good\, I am\, also\, able to see others’ suffering more easily (than my own). Seeing\, holding\, even accepting my own suffering (a response to stimulus) and my own causes of suffering is not “easy\,” especially to do with compassion…. \n  \nMaybe I can…have some compassion for an other\, and for this other (who is the same in suffering as all others)…holding with mindfulness (of the human “condition” we all share)\, a feeling or sensation\, tied to an emotional state\, and allow space to experience the “feelings.” \n  \nOctober 8\, 2020  A LOVE LETTER \n  \nMy first thought: “How wonderful! I’d love to receive one.” In this message he speaks of transformation: first within\, then in another. That real love is required to accomplish such a task is awesome. To mend a broken relationship could take a whole life of time…. Is it so hard? No. I am often just so scared of being rejected\, turned away\, not even seen for my effort…. \n  \nOctober 15\, 2020  SELECTIVE WATERING \n  \n….I find that\, in spite of doubts\, if I maintain certain spiritual practices then I like the person I seem to be and this experience rarely seems fraught with insurmountable challenges. But\, if I let these practices all fall away completely\, even for a few weeks\, then I descend to a dark place where I don’t like “me\,” and everything is a challenge I can barely face\, let alone master; life gets really hard and suffering ensues…. \n  \nMaybe if each of us finds our path to travel on\, and focuses more on the journey—making the most of each moment\, and enjoying each moment (as best as we know and are able in that moment)—instead of any destination\, then\, maybe\, we will end (personal) suffering and enjoy the experience of life more.  \n  \nOctober 16\,  SOVEREIGN OF THE FIVE ELEMENTS \n  \n….I already have all the skills and capacity to live any life I want. I only need to live that life fully\, here\, now….I am sovereign of my existence. No one else on Earth directs this life I live in any way. My thoughts\, feelings\, words\, actions are all “mine”…. Getting still enough to experience my “true self” at the core is my goal for mindfulness practice—to get behind those ego-stories\, to see beyond those limits to reality. \n  \nOctober 19\, 2020  CENTURY OF SPIRITUALITY \n  \n….I am thankful that a spiritual life is no longer the domain of religious elites—selected\, born\, or bought into such a life. Not everyone sees this\, or desires to do so. I feel a gratitude that my life experiences have afforded me opportunity to learn this lesson and apply it in my lifetime….  \n  \nOctober 21\, 2020   THE SEEDS OF HAPPINESS \n  \nThe first paragraph is a personal reminder that I am the one (and only one) responsible for the story I tell “myself” about the experience “I” have of reality as it exists…. \n  \nI like the metaphor of life as a garden where I plant and water seeds\, pull weeds and even work to “transform” my landscaping to be whatever I choose for it to be. I have a level of control over “my” life. How I choose to exercise my control will impact my results (life experiences)…. \n  \nOctober 22\, 2020  THE ART OF MINDFUL LIVING \n  \n….I can practice being mindful at any time\, anywhere\, while doing anything. This is powerful! It is a blessing to be able to do this mindfulness thing…. \n  \nI like the idea of stopping\, from my daily hustle and bustle\, to enjoy breathing. Breathing helps me connect or remember that I am alive…. \n  \nOctober 25\, 2020  THE ENERGY OF LIBERATION from Be Free Where You Are by Thich Nhat Hanh \n  \nWhat first caught me in this talk was that anyone and everyone\, including me\, has the “seed” for mindfulness and concentration…. I don’t need a monastery\, or a special rite\, or a fancy religion. All I need to do is focus on whatever I am doing in this moment\, enjoy the breath I am blessed with\, and let the rest of the whatever drop away…. \n  \nI think that’s awesome! I have always thought it was “easy\,” but never found a way to explain it. Thây does so eloquently—probably all the years of practicing. \n  \nOctober 28\, 2020  NO BEGINNING\, NO END  #30 \n  \nOnce again\, Thây emphasizes that now is all that is and everything I need is already present\, here in and/or with me now. When I go looking out there (outside myself)—to others\, to the past\, to any possible future\, to things to places—I can never find peace\, whatever I am seeking. When I begin to turn inward\, embracing what is within me already\, I find peace\, freedom\, happiness: nirvana. It’s all right there\, just waiting for me to find it\, as it always was. \n  \nNovember 3\, 2020  THOUGHTS FROM 10/15 MINDFULNESS NEWSLETTER \n  \nI agree\, or find personal resonance\, with your thoughts on #247 NIRVANA IS NOW. Since everything I’ve learned from Buddhism is about learning to focus on and live in the “now\,” why should Nirvana be anywhere or anytime other than now? My biggest challenge in life is tied to now presence; paying full attention to the “now” I experience\, well…now. I find it very easy to get lost in past “realities” or future dreams. \n  \nI also resonate with Brandon G’s thoughts about cookie cutter life: seems deeply connected to challenge of now-presence. Before prison\, even inside\, too\, it gets easy to develop a routine (cookie cutter life) and stay in this “rut.” “It’s comfortable\,” I’ll say to self. I once had a counselor point out that a “rut” is only a grave with the ends knocked out. Cookie cutter life\, comfortable life—it’s just happy in a rut! \n  \nMichel Deforge \n* \n  \nThe Secret behind Our Strife  \n  \nI\, so sure of myself\, so ready \nto explain why I am right— \nI live in a body that will die\, and all \nmy brave words be gone to the sky.  \n  \nAnd you\, with your shouted reasons \nI am wrong\, you live in a body \nthat will fall\, be still\, be mourned \nfor the peace you might have found.  \n  \nShall you and I\, knowing this now\, \nset our strife aside\, pause our proclamations \ninto curiosity\, listening to see what we \nmight learn\, one from another? \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nWhat to say about meditation? \n  \nThanks for all the beautiful writing in the last edition! \n  \nEvery month or two I teach beginning meditation for my Zen temple. I love doing it\, but after many years I have a bit of a routine\, so last time I taught\, I thought I would go back to Dogen\, the 13th Century founder of Soto Zen Buddhism in Japan\, and see what he had to say to beginners. In vintage Dogen style\, he starts off by saying that everything is perfect and complete as it is\, so what is the point of doing some kind of practice? The Way is right here and now\, so what is the use of study\, meditation\, and other efforts to “improve”? And yet\, we know that we become distracted\, angry\, confused\, and have the feeling we have lost our way; in a word\, we suffer. We want to be free of our suffering. And we have the example of wise people we admire who practice meditation. Dogen concludes: You should therefore cease from practice based on intellectual understanding\, pursuing words and following after speech\, and learn the backward step that turns your light inwardly to illuminate your self. Body and mind of themselves will drop away\, and your original face will be manifest. If you want to attain suchness\, you should practice suchness without delay.  \n  \nI recently came across a talk by Krishnamurti that was in a similar vein. He was asking his audience\, “Why do you meditate? Why do you do this thing that various teachers from the East have said you should do? Do you have an idea you will have some extraordinary experience? Are you trying to imitate another person? Ask yourself\, why am I meditating? What is my motive?” And then he says\, “When you look deeply into your life\, when you investigate a question you really care about\, you become very quiet and completely still without any effort. Meditation arises spontaneously when you look deeply\, without fear\, without knowing what you will find.” \n  \nMeditation is not self-calming. One idea about meditation is that it came out of hunting culture. When a hunter is waiting for their prey\, they must be awake\, alert\, sensitive\, ready; the mind has to be free of distraction and the body has to be relaxed\, able to move in any direction. I mentioned this to a friend the other day and he started to imitate his cat waiting for a mouse to come out of its hole. His body became graceful\, energetic\, ready to pounce but without any tension. His eyes became focussed on the imaginary mouse-hole. The room vibrated with concentration\, energy\, and stillness. Vegetarians like myself don’t always like this idea\, but there might be something to it. \n  \n—Howard Thoresen \n* \n  \nDear Johnny\, \n  \n….What I have been thinking of a lot lately is birth and death\, rather well known topics. Anyway here are some poems that seem to fit that thinking.  \n  \nlove\, Deb \n  \nInsight \n  \nAfter we die we hover for a while \nat treetop level with the mourners \nbeneath us\, but we are not separate \nfrom them nor they from us. \nThey are singing but the words \ndon’t mean anything in our new language \n  \n—Jim Harrison \n  \nThe Old People \n  \nPantcuffs rolled\, and in old shoes\, \nthey stumble over the rocks and wade out \ninto a cold river of shadows \nfar from the fire\, so far that its warmth \nno longer reaches them. And its light \n(but for the sparks in their eyes \nwhen they chance to look back) \nscarcely brushes their faces. Their ears \nare full of night: rustle of black leaves \nagainst a starless sky. Sometimes \nthey hear us calling\, and sometimes \nthey don’t. They are not searching \nfor anything much\, nor are they much \nin need of finding something new. \nThey are feeling their way out into the night\, \nletting their eyes adjust to the future. \n  \n—Ted Kooser \n  \nIn Memory of Joseph Brodsky \n  \nIt could be said\, even here\, that what remains of the self \nUnwinds into a vanishing light\, and thins like dust\, and heads \nTo a place where knowing and nothing pass into each other\, and through; \nThat it moves\, unwinding still\, beyond the vault of brightness ended\, \nAnd continues to a place which may never be found\, where the unsayable\, \nFinally\, once more is uttered\, but lightly\, quickly\, like random rain \nThat passes in sleep\, that one imagines passes in sleep. \nWhat remains of the self unwinds and unwinds\, for none \nOf the boundaries holds — neither the shapeless one between us\, \nNor the one that falls between your body and your voice. Joseph\, \nDear Joseph\, those sudden reminders of your having been — the places \nAnd times whose greatest life was the one you gave them — now appear \nLike ghosts in your wake. What remains of the self unwinds \nBeyond us\, for whom time is only a measure of meanwhile \nAnd the future no more than et cetera et cetera …but fast and forever. \n  \n—Mark Strand \n  \nThe Hammock \n  \nWhen I lay my head in my mother’s lap \nI think how day hides the stars\, \nthe way I lay hidden once\, waiting \ninside my mother’s singing to herself. And I remember  \nhow she carried me on her back \nbetween home and the kindergarten\, \nonce each morning and once each afternoon. \n  \nI don’t know what my mother’s thinking. \n  \nWhen my son lays his head in my lap\, I wonder: \nDo his father’s kisses keep his father’s worries \nfrom becoming his? I think\, Dear God\, and remember \nthere are stars we haven’t heard from yet: \nThey have so far to arrive. Amen\, \nI think\, and I feel almost comforted. \n  \nI’ve no idea what my child is thinking. \n  \nBetween two unknowns\, I live my life. \nBetween my mother’s hopes\, older than I am \nby coming before me\, and my child’s wishes\, older than I am \nby outliving me. And what’s it like? \nIs it a door\, and good-bye on either side? \nA window\, and eternity on either side? \nYes\, and a little singing between two great rests. \n  \n—Li-Young Lee \n  \nThe Archaic Maker \n  \n          The archaic maker is of course naive. If a man he listens. If a \nwoman she listens. A child is listening. A train passes like an underground river. It enters a story. \n          The river cannot come back. the story goes on. It uses some form \nof representation. It does not really need much by way of gadgets\, apart \nfrom words\, singing\, dancing\, making pictures and objects that resemble \nliving shapes. Things of its own devising. \n          The deafening river carries parents\, children\, entire families waking \nand sleeping homeward. \n          The story passes stone farms on green hillsides at the mouths of valleys \nrunning up into forests full of summer and unheard water. \n           In the story it is already tomorrow. A time of memories incorrect \nbut powerful. Outside the windows is the next of everything. \n          One of each. \n          But here is ancient today \n          itself \n          the air the living air \n          the still water \n  \n—W. S. Merwin \n  \nOpus From Space \n  \nAlmost everything I know is glad \nto be born—not only the desert orangetip\, \non the twist of tansy; shaking \nbirth moisture from its wings\, but also the naked \nwarbler nesting\, head wavering toward the sky\, \nand the honey possum\, the pygmy possum\, \nblind\, hairless thimbles of forward\, \npress and part. \n  \nAlmost everything I’ve seen pushes \ntoward the place of that state as if there were \nno knowing any other—the violent crack \nand seed-propelling shot of each witch hazel pod\, \nthe philosophy implicit in the inside out \nseed-thrust of the wood sorrel. All hairy \nsaltcedar seeds are single-minded \nin their grasping of wind and spinning \nfor luck toward birth by water. \n  \nAnd I’m fairly shocked to consider \nall the bludgeonings and batterings going on \nconinually\, the head-rammings\, wing furors\, \nand beak-crackings\, fighting for release \ninside gelatinous shells\, leather shells\, \ncalcium shells or rough\, horny shells. Legs \nand shoulder\, knees and elbows flail likewise \nagainst their womb walls everywhere\, in pine \nforest niches\, seepage banks and boggy \nprairies\, among savannah grasses\, on woven \nmats and perfumed linen sheets. \n  \nMad zealots\, every one\, even before \nbeginning they are dark dust-congealings \nor pure frenzy to come into light. \n  \nAlmost everything I know rages to be born\, \nthe obsession founding itself explicitly \nin the coming bone harps and ladders\, \nthe heart-thrusts\, vessels and voices \nof all those speeding with clear and total \nfury toward this singular honor. \n  \n—Pattiann Rogers \n  \n—Deborah Buchanan \n* \nNovember 12\, 2020 \nMeditation and Mindfulness \n  \n#9  I Have Arrived \n#44  We Already Have Enough \n#130  Appreciating Simple Joys \n  \nThese three principles express what my heart has followed for most of my life. I have been unaware of ‘wanting more\,’ or ‘needing more\,’ even though there were many lean years when I could have felt that. But here they are! All expressed far more lucidly than I have ever been able to explain them\, or defend them to others\, so I am grateful to Thich Nhat Hanh for that. \n  \nA few examples: When I married my first husband\, we didn’t have a ring\, so I used a friendship ring that a high school girlfriend had given me. She got it in Mexico and it cost about $1.00. I liked it. Bill kept asking when we were going to get a ‘real’ ring. I told him I was fine\, that I liked this ring just fine. He said\, “Boy\, you are low maintenance!” And from then on his nickname for me was\, “LM.” \n  \nExample #2: I had a large piece of art in a gallery exhibit in Portland. The title was\, “Affordable Pleasures.” At the gallery opening\, a man of considerable means was admiring it\, and he chuckled and said\, “Ah\, I get it. You have to have a lot of money to afford this\, right?” In consternation I said\, “Well\, no. It refers to the subject matter; the broken reflection of the moon on the water. Looking at the moon on the water is an affordable pleasure for everyone.” He said\, dismissively\, “Oh well\, whatever. I’ll buy it!” I said\, “No. You won’t.” \n  \nExample #3: My dad assiduously pruned and raked and composted everything. He had half a dozen magnificent compost piles. Fluffy\, friable\, fragrant piles\, each was about 6-8 cu. yds. He named them after composers (not composters). My all-time favorite Christmas present was the W. A. Mozart Memorial Compost Pile. \n  \nMy second favorite Christmas present was from my daughter’s boyfriend; about two dozen cleaned\, washed\, dried\, smoothed out sheets of aluminum foil that he had saved for me from his noontime deli sandwiches. He knew that I used and reused aluminum foil for years\, and this was his very thoughtful gift to me. \n  \nI have never been very big on ‘goals\,’ or ‘progress\,’ or ‘consumption.’ I have simple\, but innumerable pleasures: Raisins on my cereal\, stars in an inkwell black sky\, nuzzling my dog’s fur\, singing\, planting\, smell of fir needles in the sun\, deer munching on my dahlias\, cooking\, Goodwill\, art\, hiking\, the seasons…all of them. \n  \nTo me there is a distinction between pleasures and joy. Pleasure is the ripples of water on the surface. Joy is the deeper down\, abiding current. Pleasure is the hot\, bright\, snappy flame of a fire. Joy is the quiet\, calm but intense\, slowly glowing embers below. \n  \nSo again\, my thanks to Mr. T. N. Hanh (if I may call him that) for helping me express these thoughts. I don’t know if I could have done it without his guidance with these three principles. \n  \n—Jude Russell  \n* \n  \n[See drawing of elephant and sphere at the top.] \n  \nAbstract idea/concrete image. Both at once between sleep and waking. \n  \nI woke and found this present in mind and made a drawing quickly before it faded away. \n  \nThe sphere was\, simply\, everything. The elephant was God. \n  \nWhen I was drinking coffee later\, I added fancy titles from out of my memory: \n“All and Everything\,” title of a favorite book\, for the sphere; \n  \nand “That which is Other than All that Is\,” for the elephant; a memory from  my time at college fifty years ago\, when I read what a theologian had written about God as “radically other.” \n  \n—Charles Erickson \n* \n  \nThank you\, everyone! \n  \nThat’s a wrap for our third Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue. If you enjoyed it\, please send me something for the December 15th issue. You can use Your True Home or anything else for inspiration. Feel free to respond to something that someone wrote in any of our dialogues\, including this one.  Share a poem you wrote\, or a poem that someone else wrote that you like. Or whatever thoughts might be wandering through your mind. \n  \n(If you go to the EVENTS page on this website and click on “Previous Events\,” you can find our September and October dialogues.) \n  \nMay all people be happy. \nMay we live in peace & love. \n  \n—Johnny Stallings
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/meditation-mindfulness-dialogue-11-15-20/
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END:VEVENT
BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20201112
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20201119
DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
CREATED:20201112T160428Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20201112T161225Z
UID:1438-1605139200-1605743999@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  11/12/20
DESCRIPTION:Lonnie Glinski as Ophelia and Timothy Hinkhouse as Laertes in the 2015 production of Hamlet at Two Rivers prison \n  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nNovember 12\, 2020 \n  \nI got a letter from Lonnie Glinski this week. He wrote this: \n  \nThe current times are somewhat frightening for society. I know this is antithetical to my recently written statement about only observing\, but I cannot help but ache for some peace and compassion when so much of society is embracing dishonesty\, hatred and prideful ambitions. Has it always been this way? Have only the justifications for such ambitions shifted from time to time? \n  \nEven some demonstrations are teaching hate in the name of love. Some time ago I attended a music concert by an outside religious group. Shocking was the observation that every spoken sentence had to invoke the name of Jesus once\, even twice–three times or more were extra credit. Feeling assaulted\, like the name of Jesus was a club\, I was inspired to write the song I now include. The meaning of which was that the teachings and message of Jesus  was left unspoken\, unaddressed\, as long as the name was invoked again and again. \n  \nSomebody Famous \n  \nvs 1   \nWand’ring through the years \nLooking far and looking near \nSeeking clues in many ways\, \nSolutions to the fears \nAccidentally finding answers \nEmpowering one to tears \nHeaven inside realized \nIn the things somebody famous once said \nIn the things somebody famous once said. \n  \nChorus \nSomebody\, somebody\, somebody famous \nSomebody\, somebody\, you know what the name is \nFamous\, famous\, somebody famous \nFamous\, famous\, somebody famous once said. \n  \nvs 2 \nSomebody famous once said \nLove your neighbor as yourself \nLet your light shine\, keep it high on the shelf \nTreat ev’ryone as you want to be \nWe are all one big family \nIn the things somebody famous once said \nIn the things somebody famous once said. \n  \nBridge \nFor the poor in spirit\, heaven realized \nThe meek shall inherit\, merciful in kind \nThe pure in heart\, see God shall he \nThose who mourn\, comforted and freed \nIn the things somebody famous once said \nIn the things somebody famous once said. \n  \nvs 3 \nSomebody famous once said\, find your pearl of great price \nMy burden is light\, come to me as a child \nDon’t be a camel stuck in the needle’s eye \nFollow me and never die\, \nIn the things somebody famous once said \nIn the things somebody famous once said. \n* \n  \nHere’s from a letter Lonnie wrote me on October 13th: \n  \nDear Johnny\, \n  \nSeveral things you have written and sent to me lately have spoken to me quite close to my recent thought. \n  \nOne is your being called a hippie. That title has been directed at me lately\, since I have let my hair grow out. Dozens have told me\, and people currently still tell me\, to get my hair cut. \n  \nOn the one hand\, I am shocked by the number of people who seem to care that “I” am growing out “my” hair. Yet\, at the same time\, I’m entertained by the vehemence and anger toward my hair being long. I find my quick head twirls\, so the hair swirls from side to side\, does little to assuage their frustration…. \n  \nAnd of course your writing about a golden world is related to my recent song topic of “Bloom where you landed.” It’s the bluesy\, striking music I put to it that brings it alive for me. But\, here it is: \n  \nImagi- \nnation never imagined I’d be here today \nLessons learned\, tables turned\, mistakes along the way \nThough I cannot go where my heart longs to go \nI gotta bloom where I am\, bloom where I’ve landed \n  \nThe roads I drove\, the choices I chose\, \nthe words I spoke and the feelings that grow \nNow I cannot go where my heart longs to go \nI gotta bloom where I am\, bloom where I’ve landed \n  \nI’ve travelled through the air to who knows where \nI’ve journeyed by water\, sometimes wet for hours \nI’ve fallen from trees\, landing like a nut \nStill gotta bloom where I am\, bloom where I’ve landed \n  \nStanding\, crawling\, climbing\, falling\, the winds blew you \nRough or smooth future calling\, destination news to you \nHelp someone like someone helped you \nYou gotta bloom where you are\, bloom where you’ve landed \n  \nBloom like you did in the day when someone cared \nBloom like you did when the way someone clears \nBloom like you’ve done when you felt at home \nBloom where you’re at\, bloom where you’ve landed \n* \n  \nSo\, that’s what I’m doing\, trying to bloom where I’ve landed. \n  \nLonnie \n* \n  \nOn August 20th\, Lonnie sent this song: \n  \nAnd They Just Smile \n  \nMentions I hear\, someone named Trouble \nI try to name the face\, but I’m unable \nWalk\, often-times I hear: here comes Trouble \nTaking my chance\, turn round really fast…and they just smile \n  \nWalk past\, sometimes I hear: there goes Trouble \nTurning\, no one’s there\, only empty air \nShould I fear that Trouble may be near? \nAsk where Trouble went…and they just smile \n  \nChorus \nClosed-door community\, same faces to see \nSeeking notorious version\, of this Trouble person \nWhere can he be found?\, not there when I turn around \nPlease point Trouble out…and they just smile \n  \nChorus repeat \n  \nIntense mystery\, Trouble passes so nearly \nAround and around I go\, really do I want to know \nWhere can he be found?\, not there when I turn around \nAnd why\, oh why\, do they just smile? \n  \nShould I be a’worrying\, Trouble near concerning? \nWhere can I go that Trouble cannot follow? \nWhere can he be found?\, not there when I turn around \nReally\, do I want to know?…and they just smile \n  \nOutro (loosely) \nAnd why\, oh why\, won’t you point him out? \nAnd why\, oh why?—come on\, help me out \nAnd tell me why\, oh why\, do they just smile? \nAnd why\, oh why\, oh why\, do you just smile? \n* \n  \nI began sending “peace\, love\, happiness & understanding” to friends inside and outside of prison\, last Spring Equinox\, after COVID arrived. This is from a letter Lonnie wrote last April 22nd that includes another song: \n  \nThanks for including me on your mailing list. The issue I have enjoyed the most so far was the one on humor. Which fits in well with a song that came to me as I lay there between the states of sleep and wakefulness. While I usually have a message or a theme to construct a song\, this one came all out of the blue with no premeditation. I had to get up and write it down immediately\, or else\, like so many others\, it fades away like a fog fades to the rising sunshine. \n  \nIt ain’t me \n  \nvs 1 \nSomeone squeezed the last toothpaste\, left me an empty tube \nSomeone used the last shampoo…now what am I to do? \nI know it was my cellie\, I’m gonna give ‘im hell \nBut…I live in a single cell \n  \nChorus 1 \nIt wasn’t me\, it ain’t me—doing things irresponsibly \nIt ain’t me\, it couldn’t be\, always leaving me in some fix \nMy cellie’s gonna catch hell\, don’t care I’m in a single cell \n‘Cause it wasn’t me \n  \nBridge 1 \nI know it was him who ate that last cracker \nI know it was him who ate that last chip \nI know it was him who used that ticket I know I had \nI know it was my cellie\, gonna give ‘im hell \nRegardless\, I’m in a single cell \n  \nChorus 2 \nIt wasn’t me; it ain’t me \nLike the Family Circus comic strip\, it wasn’t me \nDon’t watch same TV shows\, nor songs on the radio \nI’m gonna give ‘im hell for changing that dial \n‘Cause I know it wasn’t me \n  \nBridge 2 \nHe hides things so I can’t find ‘em \nKnocks over things I’ve been organizin’ \nEmpties things I know without a doubt were full \nI know it was my cellie\, gonna give ‘im hell \nRegardless\, I’m in a single cell \n  \n  \nWith spending so much time in our cells\, others can probably relate. \n  \n—Lonnie Glinski \n* \n  \nWell\, that’s about it for the Lonnie Glinski Issue. Thanks Lonnie\, for bringing smiles to a lot of faces. \n  \nMay all people be happy. \n  \n—Johnny
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-11-12-20/
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DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20201105
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20201112
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SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  11/5/20
DESCRIPTION:  \n  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \n  \nNovember 5\, 2020 \n  \nNancy Yeilding sent this excerpt from Love and Blessings\, the autobiography of Guru Nitya Chaitanya Yati: \n  \nWhen I was in my mid-teens I saw Mahatma Gandhi\, the founder and father of modern India. He was revered as a great saint. He believed fervently in the nonviolence of Christ\, and he taught that India should be converted to a creed of pacifism. He taught that one should win another’s heart by love. \n  \nAt that time\, Britain was ruling India with full military force. To fight the British forces\, which were armed with guns and bayonets\, the Indians were made to march with slogans of nonviolence and peace. As a young man I thought this was very foolish. I had been extensively indoctrinated by the Marxist-Leninist groups\, even somewhat brainwashed\, to believe that the only possible redemption for India lay in a revolution organized exactly as the one in Russia had been. I had been made to believe that all of humanity could be divided into two groups: the exploiters and the exploited\, the haves and the have-nots. However\, it was difficult for me to decide whether my father was exploited or an exploiter. \n  \nThis mythical division into two classes\, two class interests\, and class warfare all looked very reasonable to me. I thought that if only Mahatma Gandhi read a little of Marx and understood his true philosophy\, India would be saved. Little did I know that he had lived in England and had every access to all the literature of Marx and Lenin\, and that he knew all about revolution. I was so young and stupid\, yet fanatically indoctrinated. So I found my way to the inner circle of the saint\, and looked for an opportunity to present my gospel of class war to him. \n  \nWhen my chance came\, I gave him a non-stop oratory on class warfare\, as well as how useless his method of nonviolence was. He listened to me very carefully. That is my greatest surprise today. When I came to my final conclusion\, he looked quite calm. \n  \nThen he asked me\, “Are you sincere?”  \n  \nThat infuriated me: if I were not sincere\, would I have gone out of my way to bring him this great message? I shouted that I was very sincere.  \n  \nHe went on\, “You are speaking with conviction?”  \n  \n“Of course!”  \n  \n“Do you think I have no conviction about what I say?”  \n  \nI had never thought of that before. I said\, “Yes\, you must have conviction.”  \n  \n“Am I sincere?”  \n  \n“Maybe….” \n  \n“Are you not saying something which is in total contradiction to what I say?”  \n  \n“Yes.”  \n  \n“Don’t you see the possibility of two people with contradictory views both having full conviction and sincerity?”  \n  \n“Yes.”  \n  \n“You are asking me to stand in your footsteps and look. Have you ever considered the possibility of standing in my footsteps and looking? If I stand in your angle of vision\, I will see what you see. That’s what you want me to do. Suppose I invite you to stand in my angle of vision and look at the same thing. Are you prepared for that?” \n  \nI was certainly not prepared\, but I didn’t say so.  \n  \nHe continued\, “Young man\, truth is many faceted. You can look at it from a number of points of view\, and from each angle you will get a different perspective. All that you have said is known to me\, but what I see you have no patience to consider.”  \n  \nI thought that was right. Although I had been listening to him for a week\, waiting for my opportunity to pontificate\, I had never really listened to him. I was only listening to myself\, to my objections to whatever he was saying.             \n  \nThis simple incident was a great turning point in my life. It completely silenced me. Thereafter\, when I talked with another person it always occurred to me that there could be one more way of looking at truth. I learned to step down from my pedestal and walk over to the other person’s\, to sympathetically get into his way of seeing. To me\, this was the beginning of a great discovery of what a wonderful world we live in and how rich our human heritage is. \n  \n—Nitya Chaitanya Yati \n* \n  \nMy father was so convinced of the rightness of his opinions that he would raise his voice and try to browbeat people into agreeing with him. It never worked. He got into a lot of arguments and even lost some of his closest friends\, because when they failed to agree with him he said abusive things to them that they could not forgive. They stopped speaking to each other. \n  \nUnconsciously\, I learned to argue from my dad. I had to be right about everything. Mr. Know-It-All. I was self-righteous in my opposition to war—convinced that anyone who didn’t agree with me was dead wrong. \n  \nIn my twenties\, I was one of Nitya’s students. I lived with his teacher\, Nataraja Guru\, in India for a year. His diagnosis was: “You have too high an opinion of your own opinions.” \n  \nFast forward to 2006\, when I began facilitating meaning-of-life dialogues at Two Rivers prison in Umatilla\, Oregon. In my proposal to the administration\, I named the program “The Stories We Tell Ourselves: How Our Thinking Shapes Our Lives.” The first thing I noticed\, sitting in a circle with twelve or sixteen guys\, was that we all had different backgrounds and beliefs—different life experiences. Each of us had formed our own understanding of who we are and how the world works. It would be impossible to get everyone to agree with all my views. And it would be disrespectful of them to try convert them to Johnnyism. The beauty of the thing is that we weren’t all alike—like robots. If we listened to each other—without arguing or trying to convince the others to think like us\, to believe what we believe—we might learn something. \n  \nIn 2014\, we did the play “Twelve Angry Men” at Two Rivers prison. The play is aptly named. In that jury room\, everyone’s anger is on a hair-trigger. And they are all convinced that anyone who disagrees with them is a moron. Gradually\, because of one man’s patience\, they learn to listen to each other\, minds are changed\, and the defendant is acquitted. \n  \nNo one ever seems to “win” an argument. We stop listening to each other. In Nitya’s story above\, he says that he hadn’t really been listening\, he had been waiting for his turn to pontificate. When I was a teenager\, I noticed that my dad didn’t listen to what I said. In the first sentence I spoke to him\, he would pick out a word that suggested to him a kind of pre-recorded speech. He didn’t hear the rest of what I said. He made no reference to it. When I finished talking\, he would give his pre-recorded speech\, based on a word or phrase that I had said early on. I had heard his speech many times before. \n  \nAt present\, it seems that our society has broken down into warring factions—each convinced of the rightness of their side and the wrongness of the other side. One books that illuminates the current situation is HATE\, INC  by Matt Taibbi. There’s an election tomorrow (11/3/20)\, and both sides seem to think that if the other side wins it will be the End of the World. \n  \nBut maybe the world will continue to go round. Outside my window\, squirrels are scurrying up and down the old maple tree in quest of seeds. The sky is bluer than blue. I’m happy to be alive on this beautiful green planet. \n* \n  \nMohandas Gandhi (1869-1948) was mostly known by the honorific title “Mahatma\,” which means “great soul.” He is best known for leading a nonviolent campaign for India’s independence from England. \n  \nHe was born in India\, studied Law in London\, and became an attorney at the age of 22. He lived and practiced Law in South Africa from 1893 to 1914\, where he led a nonviolent campaign for human rights and against racial discrimination. \n  \nThe East India Company invaded India in the 18th Century and ruled India from 1757 to 1858\, when rule of India was turned over to the British Crown and India became a “colony” of Great Britain. When Gandhi returned to India in 1915\, he became one of the leaders of the movement for Indian Independence\, based in part on his experience with civil rights reform in South Africa. \n  \nIn the 1920’s and 30’s and up until he was assassinated in 1948\, he was the most influential and charismatic of the movement’s many leaders. His ideas about civil disobedience were inspired by Henry David Thoreau and his nonviolence was inspired by traditional Hindu beliefs and by Leo Tolstoy. His successful campaigns of nonviolent resistance in turn inspired Dr. Martin Luther King\, Jr. Nelson Mandela\, too\, was inspired by Gandhi’s nonviolent civil rights struggle in South Africa\, but\, unlike Gandhi and King\, he said that violence and nonviolence were not mutually exclusive strategies for change. \n* \n  \nHere are some quotes from Mahatma Gandhi: \n  \nIf we could change ourselves\, the tendencies in the world would also change. As a man changes his own nature\, so does the attitude of the world change towards him. We need not wait to see what others do. \n  \nA man is but a product of his thoughts. What he thinks he becomes. \n  \nHappiness is when what you think\, what you say\, and what you do are in harmony. \n  \nA coward is incapable of exhibiting love; it is the prerogative of the brave. \n  \nLive as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever. \n  \nFreedom is not worth having if it does not include the freedom to make mistakes. \n  \nService which is rendered without joy helps neither the servant nor the served. \n  \nIf we are to teach real peace in this world\, and if we are to carry on a real war against war\, we shall have to begin with the children. \n  \nThe best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others. \n  \nIn a gentle way\, you can shake the world. \n  \nIf I have the belief that I can do it\, I shall surely acquire the capacity to do it even if I may not have it at the beginning. \n  \nHate the sin\, not the sinner. \n  \nGlory lies in the attempt to reach one’s goal\, not in reaching it. \n  \nWhenever you are confronted with an opponent\, conquer him with love. \n  \nPermanent good can never be the outcome of untruth and violence. \n  \nThe future depends on what you do today. \n  \nTo give pleasure to a single heart by a single act is better than a thousand heads bowing in prayer. \n  \nEarth provides enough to satisfy every man’s needs\, but not every man’s greed. \n  \nI object to violence because when it appears to do good\, the good is only temporary; the evil it does is permanent. \n  \nYou must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is like an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty\, the ocean does not become dirty. \n  \nIt’s the action\, not the fruit of the action\, that’s important. You have to do the right thing. It may not be in your power\, may not be in your time\, that there’ll be any fruit. But that doesn’t mean you stop doing the right thing. You may never know what results come from your action. But if you do nothing\, there will be no result. \n* \n  \n  \npeace & love \nJohnny
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-11-5-20/
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BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20201029
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20201105
DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
CREATED:20201029T165308Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20250718T121241Z
UID:1406-1603929600-1604534399@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  10/29/20
DESCRIPTION:  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \n  \nOctober 29\, 2020 \n  \nLast week I was thinking about loving the Earth. (Why is Earth Day just one day out of the year? Shouldn’t every day be Earth Day?) Kim sent a poem\, but it arrived a little too late to be included in last week’s issue. Here it is: \n  \nRevising Genesis  \n  \nAnd God said\, Rest here in the garden  \nwhere you belong\, where now you know  \nthe good from evil\, and so the good may be  \nyour calling. Be home here in beauty and bounty\,  \nand by salt sweat of your close devotion\, make Earth  \nyour wise guide\, each creature teaching miracles of being  \nin wing and song\, in blurred heart of hummingbird \nand deep thump of whale\, counting nights  \nin peace and days in blessing\, as you \nraise your arms in praise.  \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nAnd he recommended this poem by Gary Snyder: \n  \nFor All \n  \nAh to be alive \n       on a mid-September morn \n       fording a stream \n       barefoot\, pants rolled up\, \n       holding boots\, pack on\, \n       sunshine\, ice in the shallows\, \n        northern rockies.  \n  \nRustle and shimmer of icy creek waters \nstones turn underfoot\, small and hard as toes \n       cold nose dripping \n       singing inside \n       creek music\, heart music\, \n       smell of sun on gravel.  \n       \n        I pledge allegiance  \n  \nI pledge allegiance to the soil \n       of Turtle Island\, \n       and to the beings who thereon dwell \n       one ecosystem \n       in diversity \n       under the sun \nWith joyful interpenetration for all. \n  \n—Gary Snyder \n* \n  \nKatie sent this poem of Deborah’s: \n  \nThe Color of Eyes  \n  \nThe glacier weeps \nicicles\, weeps shades \nof sky and azure sea. \n  \nBlue\, blue of the waves\, \nrippling along sand\,  \ncoral\, and melting ice. \n  \nCornflowers in summer\, \nblue among the fields \nof green and gold. \n  \nFlashing blue eyes \nbeckoning with silence. \n  \nColor of a morning\,  \ncolor of time\, \nof mourning. \n  \nBlue the song of sadness\,  \nsmoky grey in the early hours \nblue the color of words. \n  \nOh\, blue dripping \nover ears\, into eyes\,  \nwater molecules separating\, \n  \nthen vanishing\, atoms alone.  \n  \n—Deborah Buchanan \n* \n  \nRobin Schauffler wrote: \n  \nHey Johnny\, \n  \nThank you for the ongoing peace-love-and-happiness! We’re all depressed and hysterical\, if one can be both at once\, but we have to\, have to keep remembering what’s good.  \n  \nAnd here’s another poem you might want to share: \n  \nThe poet\, Derek Mahon\, had just died (October 1)\, and this poem of his was read by another Irish poet on NPR. He wrote it in 2012\, but it feels like today. As soon as I heard it I decided to commit it to memory\, and I’m working on that. It helps me go to sleep at night. Everything is thoroughly fucked up\, but still\, on some most basic level\, we will manage. \n  \nLove\, \nRobin \n  \nEverything is Going to be All Right \n  \nHow should I not be glad to contemplate \nthe clouds clearing beyond the dormer window \nand a high tide reflected on the ceiling? \nThere will be dying\, there will be dying\, \nbut there is no need to go into that. \nThe poems flow from the hand unbidden \nand the hidden source is the watchful heart. \nThe sun rises in spite of everything \nand the far cities are beautiful and bright. \nI lie here in a riot of sunlight \nwatching the day break and the clouds flying. \nEverything is going to be all right. \n  \n—Derek Mahon\, from Selected Poems \n* \n  \nI was listening to an audio book by David Whyte called What to Remember When Waking. He read this poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins\, which fits our Earth-loving theme. As always\, with his poems\, be sure to read it aloud: \n  \nInversnaid \n  \nThis darksome burn\, horseback brown\, \nHis rollrock highroad roaring down\, \nIn coop and in comb the fleece of his foam \nFlutes and low to the lake falls home. \n  \nA windpuff-bonnet of fáwn-fróth \nTurns and twindles over the broth \nOf a pool so pitchblack\, féll-frówning\, \nIt rounds and rounds Despair to drowning. \n  \nDegged with dew\, dappled with dew \nAre the groins of the braes that the brook treads through\, \nWiry heathpacks\, flitches of fern\, \nAnd the beadbonny ash that sits over the burn. \n  \nWhat would the world be\, once bereft \nOf wet and of wildness? Let them be left\, \nO let them be left\, wildness and wet; \nLong live the weeds and the wilderness yet. \n  \n—Gerard Manley Hopkins \n  \n[Word notes. Inversnaid is a little village on the shores of Loch Lomond\, in Scotland. A burn is a mountain stream. Coop and comb are the high and low parts of the water. Flutes are grooves. He made up the word twindle. Fells are hills. Degged means sprinkled. A brae is a hillside.] \n  \nThis is a charming excerpt from a brief biography on the Gerard Manley Hopkins official website: \n  \nHe was a man of passion and he was a lover\, this poet Gerard Manley Hopkins. As a boy he loved to climb a tree in his family garden in London and look up at the sky and down at the earth. At Oxford University he loved his studies in Greek and Latin and won a brilliant “First” in his final examination. He loved his family and friends and God\, he loved music and sketching\, he loved hiking and swimming\, and he loved beauty\, nature\, and the environment. As a priest he loved his fellow Jesuits\, his students\, and his parishioners\, and as a poet he loved his creativity and the words and images and rhythms and sounds of his poems. \n* \n  \nKim has revised the Gettysburg Address as well as Genesis: \n  \nAbe & I \n  \nFour score and seven years from now our descendants will inherit on this continent an older earth conceived in diversity and dedicated to the recognition that all creatures live as one. Now we are engaged in a great struggle\, testing whether this creation so conceived and so dedicated can long endure. We are met in a great community for that struggle. We have come to dedicate a portion of our grief as a final resting-place for those creatures who gave their lives departing from this creation. It is fitting and proper that we should do this. In a larger sense\, we cannot dedicate\, we cannot consecrate\, we cannot hallow this creation. The desperate creatures\, neglected children\, vibrant cultures and local ways of being\, living and dead\, who struggled here have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. The whole earth will little note nor long remember what we say here\, but it can never forget what we now choose to do. It is for us the living rather to be dedicated to the unfinished work which they who struggled and lost here have thus far so painfully clarified. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these tattered beauties we take increased devotion to that cause for which they lost their last full measure of living witness and of song—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not be joined by an endless parade of others long in splendor\, suddenly gone\, that this whole earth shall have a new birth in welcome to its own\, and that reconciliation of all creatures\, by all creatures\, for all creatures shall not perish from the earth. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nSomebody else who wrote their own version of the Gettysburg Address was the astonishing beatnik-poet-philosopher-saint-comedian Lord Buckley. He said\, “I’m a people worshipper. I think people should worship people.” Just for fun\, here’s his version: \n  \nThe Gettysburg Address \n  \nMilords and Miladies of the world of people  \nmost restfully and most humbly  \nand with the deepest reverence  \nfor the great and precious American Saint Abraham Lincoln. \nI shall translate in the modern semantic of the hip\,  \nthis new zig-zag semantic\,  \nhis beloved Gettysburg Address…. \n  \nWhen dey called old Lanky Linc up to de podium  \nand he dug all dem cats and kiddies swingin’ on the green sward\,  \ngreat love look come on his Saint face\,  \nand he put dis issue down to ’em\, he say: \n  \nFour big hits and seven licks ago\,  \nour before-daddies swung forth upon this sweet groovey land  \na jumpin’\, wailin’\, stompin’\, swingin’ new nation\,  \nhip to the cool sweet groove of liberty  \nand solid sent upon the Ace lick dat all cats and kiddies\,  \nred\, white\, or blue\, is created level in front. \nWe are now hung with a king size main-day Civil Drag\,  \nsoundin’ whether this nation or any up there nation\,  \nso hip and so solid sent can stay with it all the way. \nWe have stomped out here to the hassle site  \nof some of the worst jazz blown in the entire issue. \nGettys-mother-burg. \nWe are here to turn on a small soil stash  \nof the before-mentioned hassle site  \nas a final sweet sod pad for those  \nwho laid it down and left it there  \nso that this jumpin’ happy beat might blow forever-more. \nAnd we all dig that this is the straightest lick. \nBut diggin’ it harder from afar we cannot mellow\,  \nwe cannot put down the stamp of the lord on this sweet sod  \nbecause the strong non-stop studs\,  \nboth diggin’ it and dug under it\, who hassled here  \nhave mellowed it with such a wild mad beat  \nthat we can hear it\, but we can’t touch it. \nNow the world cats will short dig nor long stash in their wigs  \nwhat we are beatin’ our chops around here\,  \nbut it never can successively shade what they vanced here. \nIt is for us the swingin’ to pick up the dues  \nof these fine studs who cut out from here  \nand fly it through to Endsville.  \nIt is hipper for us to be signifyin’ to the glorious gig  \nthat we can’t miss with all these bulgin’ eyes\,  \nthat from all these A-stamp studs we double our love kick\, too\,  \nthat righteous line for which these hard cats sounded  \nthe last nth bone of the beat of the bell. \nThat we here want it stuck up straight for all to dig  \nthat these departed studs shall not have split in vain\,  \nand that this nation under the great swingin’ Lord  \nshall swing up a whopper of endless Mardi Gras\,  \nand that the big law by you straights\,  \nfrom you cats\,  \nand for you kiddies\,  \nshall not be scratched from the big race. \n  \n—Richard “Lord” Buckley  (1906-1960) \n* \n  \nHere’s a link to a performance by Lord Buckley: \n  \nhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VuQ-Xt-pDbk \n* \n  \nI guess while we’re at it\, we should include the original: \n  \nFour score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent\, a new nation\, conceived in Liberty\, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. \n  \nNow we are engaged in a great civil war\, testing whether that nation\, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated\, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field\, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. \n  \nBut\, in a larger sense\, we can not dedicate — we can not consecrate — we can not hallow — this ground. The brave men\, living and dead\, who struggled here\, have consecrated it\, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note\, nor long remember what we say here\, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living\, rather\, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain — that this nation\, under God\, shall have a new birth of freedom — and that government of the people\, by the people\, for the people\, shall not perish from the earth. \n  \n—Abraham Lincoln\nNovember 19\, 1863 \n  \npeace & love\, y’all \nJohnny
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-10-29-20/
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DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20201022
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20201029
DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
CREATED:20201022T164135Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20201022T164344Z
UID:1390-1603324800-1603929599@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  10/22/20
DESCRIPTION:Photo of sunrise by Abe Green. Abe likes to ski. He took this picture from the top of Big Mountain\, which is right next to the town of Whitefish\, Montana\, where I was born. (JS) \n  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nOctober 22\, 2020 \n  \nMy friend Mark Alter sent me this poem by Nadine Anne Hura. It got a lot of attention\, because it was shared by Jacinda Ardern\, the Prime Minister of New Zealand: \n  \nFor Papatūānuku – Mother Earth \n  \nRest now\, e Papatūānuku \nBreathe easy and settle \nRight here where you are \nWe’ll not move upon you \nFor awhile \n  \nWe’ll stop\, we’ll cease \nWe’ll slow down and stay home \n  \nDraw each other close and be kind \nKinder than we’ve ever been. \nI wish we could say we were doing it for you \nas much as ourselves \n  \nBut hei aha \n  \nWe’re doing it anyway \n  \nIt’s right. It’s time. \nTime to return \nTime to remember \nTime to listen and forgive \nTime to withhold judgment \nTime to cry \nTime to think \n  \nAbout others \n  \nRemove our shoes \nPress hands to soil \nSift grains between fingers  \n  \nGentle palms \n  \nTime to plant \nTime to wait \nTime to notice \nTo whom we belong \n  \nFor now it’s just you \nAnd the wind \nAnd the forests and the oceans and the sky full of rain \n  \nFinally\, it’s raining! \n  \nKa turuturu te wai kamo o Rangi ki runga i a koe \n  \nEmbrace it \n  \nThis sacrifice of solitude we have carved out for you \n  \nHe iti noaiho – a small offering \nPeople always said it wasn’t possible \nTo ground flights and stay home and stop our habits of consumption \n  \nBut it was \nIt always was. \n  \nWe were just afraid of how much it was going to hurt \n—and it IS hurting and it will hurt and continue to hurt— \nBut not as much as you have been hurt. \n  \nSo be still now \n  \nWrap your hills around our absence \nLoosen the concrete belt cinched tight at your waist \n  \nRest. \nBreathe. \nRecover. \nHeal— \n  \nAnd we will do the same. \n  \n—Nadine Anne Hura\, 23 March 2020 \n  \nA note of gratitude from Nadine:  \n  \nThank you for the amazing response to this poem! I never expected it to travel so far and wide. Many people have asked who the author is so I wanted to clarify that I wrote this poem on the train home after the announcement of total lockdown was made here in Aotearoa\, New Zealand. I felt like I could hear Papatūānuku exhaling in relief as we all began our journeys home. In truth\, one month of lockdown is not enough. Even six months would not be enough! We need a total and sustained change of habit\, globally and within our own communities. I hope so much we take our time to reflect on the fact that if we can do it to save ourselves for a month\, we ought to be able to make similar habit changes for Mother Earth for the long term. The most telling thing for me was how empty our veggie plant aisles were after lockdown was announced – in a crisis\, we will turn back to our mother to provide (and of course she will!).Lots of people have asked for translations… \n  \nPapatūānuku – Mother Earth (the addition of the “e” in front signals the words are addressed or spoken directly to her.) \n  \nKa turuturu te wai kamo o Rangi ki runga i a koe – means something like\, “tears from the eyes of Ranginui drip down on you” (Ranginui is our sky father\, it is common to refer to rain as the tears of Rangi for his beloved\, from whom he was separated at the beginning of time in order that there could be light in the world). Not long after the announcement we were moving to level 3\, it poured with rain in Porirua after many months of hot and dry weather. I could feel my garden rejoicing. \n  \nHei aha – This can be translated in many ways\, but I meant it like the English “oh well\, whatever” \n  \nHe iti noaiho – “something small”. Because our sacrifice feels enormous but in reality I think it is not sufficient to truly see Papatūānuku recover. However\, in Māori\, we often talk about the significance of small actions or gestures. We say “ahakoa he iti\, he pounamu.” Although it is small\, it is a treasure. \n  \nThank you so much for the support. \n  \n—Nadine Anne Hura \n* \n  \nHere’s a link\, (also sent by Mark Alter)\, to an essay by Nadine Anne Hura\, “I’m Reclaiming the Name I Lost”: \n  \nhttps://e-tangata.co.nz/reflections/nadine-anne-hura-im-reclaiming-the-name-i-lost/ \n  \n(n.b.: As of today\, (10/22/20)\, the United States has 2\,525 cases of COVID-19 per 100\,000 residents. New Zealand has 39 cases per 100\,000 residents. Jacinda Ardern is smart!) \n  \nI’m wondering about learning how to love the Earth more deeply\, more constantly. I think a good place to look for help with this is from poets. \n* \n  \nI…peruse manifold objects\, no two alike and every one good\, \nThe earth good and the stars good\, and their adjuncts all good. \n  \n—Walt Whitman  (1819-1892)\, from “Song of Myself” \n* \n  \nWild Geese \n  \nYou do not have to be good. \nYou do not have to walk on your knees  \nfor a hundred miles through the desert\, repenting. \nYou only have to let the soft animal of your body \n     love what it loves.                          \nTell me about despair\, yours\, and I will tell you mine. \nMeanwhile the world goes on. \nMeanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain \nare moving across the landscapes\, \nover the prairies and the deep trees\, \nthe mountains and the rivers. \nMeanwhile the wild geese\, high in the clean blue air\, \nare heading home again. \nWhoever you are\, no matter how lonely\, \nthe world offers itself to your imagination\, \ncalls to you like the wild geese\, harsh and exciting— \nover and over announcing your place \nin the family of things. \n  \n—Mary Oliver  (1935-2019) \n* \n  \nEarth Dweller \n  \nIt was all the clods at once become  \nprecious; it was the barn\, and the shed\, \nand the windmill\, my hands\, the crack  \nArlie made in the ax handle: oh\, let me stay \nhere humbly\, forgotten\, to rejoice in it all; \nlet the sun casually rise and set. \nIf I have not found the right place\,  \nteach me; for somewhere inside\, the clods are  \nvaulted mansions\, lines through the barn sing  \nfor the saints forever\, the shed and windmill \nrear so glorious the sun shudders like a gong. \n  \nNow I know why people worship\, carry around  \nmagic emblems\, wake up talking dreams  \nthey teach to their children: the world speaks. \nThe world speaks everything to us. \nIt is our only friend. \n  \n—William Stafford  (1914-1993) \n  \nHere’s a link to an audio recording of William Stafford reading the poem: \n  \nhttps://voetica.com/voetica.php?collection=2&poet=827&poem=7251 \n  \n* \n  \nThis poem must be read aloud: \n  \nPied Beauty \n  \nGlory be to God for dappled things – \n   For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow; \n      For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim; \nFresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings; \n   Landscape plotted and pieced – fold\, fallow\, and plough; \n      And áll trádes\, their gear and tackle and trim. \n  \nAll things counter\, original\, spare\, strange; \n   Whatever is fickle\, freckled (who knows how?) \n      With swift\, slow; sweet\, sour; adazzle\, dim; \nHe fathers-forth whose beauty is past change: \n                                Praise him. \n  \n—Gerard Manley Hopkins  (1844-1889) \n* \n  \nBill Faricy sent this poem: \n  \nWeary of those who come with words\, words but no language \nI make my way to the snow-covered island. \nThe untamed has no words. \nThe unwritten pages spread out on every side! \nI come upon the tracks of deer in the snow. \nLanguage but no words. \n  \n—Tomas Tranströmer  (1931-2015) \n* \n  \nKatie Radditz also thought of Mary Oliver: \n  \nMy Work is Loving the World \n  \nMy work is loving the world. \nHere the sunflowers\, there the hummingbird –  \nequal seekers of sweetness. \nHere the quickening yeast; there the blue plums. \nHere the clam deep in the speckled sand. \n  \nAre my boots old? Is my coat torn? \nAm I no longer young and still not half-perfect? Let me \nkeep my mind on what matters\, \nwhich is my work\, \n  \nwhich is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished. \nThe phoebe\, the delphinium. \nThe sheep in the pasture\, and the pasture. \nWhich is mostly rejoicing\, since all ingredients are here\, \n  \nWhich is gratitude\, to be given a mind and a heart \nand these body-clothes\, \na mouth with which to give shouts of joy \nto the moth and the wren\, to the sleepy dug-up clam\, \ntelling them all\, over and over\, how it is \nthat we live forever. \n  \n–Mary Oliver \n  \nAs the bumper sticker with a picture of our planet says: \n  \nLOVE YOUR MOTHER \n  \n–Johnny
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-10-22-20/
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BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20201015
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20201115
DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
CREATED:20201016T172208Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20211130T015411Z
UID:1370-1602720000-1605398399@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue  10/15/20
DESCRIPTION:Open Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue \n  \nOctober 15\, 2020 \n  \nWelcome to our second meditation and mindfulness dialogue! The numbers below refer to passages from the book Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh. (JS) \n* \nHello the Open Road! I’m very excited to be part of the mindfulness and meditation group. My experience with Your True Home has provided interesting insight on the riddles I seek to solve\, and is filled with wonderful tools. \nToday my inspiration for writing \, and just inspiration in general\, comes from pages 1\, 2 and 148: Your True Home\, One Hundred Percent and Fearless Bodhisattvas. These three brought thoughts about many things\, but some in particular I explored: The Sam-sara\, Living in the moment. \nA friend once told me\, that in order to escape the Sam-sara we mustn’t sow karma\, good or bad\, and must just be. At the time I thought he was suffering delusions\, but I’m not sure that is the case anymore. Maybe he was right\, maybe if we live in the moment we truly live\, rather than die. I say this because by living in the moment we can escape the constant cycle of dying with each moment as it passes\, and escape being born again as another moment arrives. Instead of surfing each wave\, sail the sea\, move with the wind and tides. Be a piece of driftwood; who cares what happens\, because it doesn’t happen until it does\, and even then be driftwood. \nIn a way my friend was right\, he was a piece of driftwood and I the wave. But that moment has passed and I am truly home now\, fearless\, one hundred percent of the time\, possessing the key to the great escape. \n—Joshua Tyler Barnes \nPS…All the meditation writings I read in your last newsletter Rocked! Thanks. \n* \nThank you for the Finding Deep Calm thing from Kim Stafford. [“peace\, love\, happiness & understanding\,” 8/27/20] I really appreciate it! I’ve shared it with several people and it’s really been an eye opener for perspective…especially right now… \nThe Suffering of Those We Love  #23 \nHow do we cope with the suffering of those we love? I’d surely take their pain away if I could. Makes it a lot easier to keep mindfulness in your heart when those you love are in pain. I can try to hold my anger or sorrow and fear with the energy of mindfulness for them. It’s the least I can do\, right? \n—Jeff Kuehner \n* \n#75  Your True Nature  &  #247 Nirvana Is Now \nIn the legend of the Buddha\, it is said that he sat under a tree and realized nirvana. When we hear this story\, we wonder: “What’s nirvana?” Nirvana is described as something like “perfect freedom\,” or “ultimate reality.” It sounds pretty good. We might think\, “I’d like to get that. How do I do it?” In one version of Buddhism\, it is very hard to get. Only a few rare souls can attain it\, after diligently practicing for many lifetimes. In Thich Nhat Hanh’s version of nirvana\, which he equates with the Christian idea of the Kingdom of God\, we already have it. It’s not far away or hard to get. It’s who we are. I like that. A perfect moment is always available to anyone. Maybe this moment is perfect. \n—Johnny Stallings \n* \n#305  Sit With Your Fear \nWhen I was 10 or so my family was eating dinner with our church’s pastor\, I was outside playing with the pastor’s two boys. They had built a treehouse and a zip line from the treehouse to another tree\, and they had wrapped a mattress around the tree to soften the landing when using the zip line. The “landing” was basically crashing into the tree\, so the mattress was helpful. The treehouse was around 20 feet off the ground\, not so high that I had trouble climbing up to it. Oh\, by the way\, I’m afraid of heights\, but using the zip line was a whole different thing. I stepped to the edge\, wrapped my hands around the handle\, and…well\, nothing. I froze. I was yelling in my head to just step off the edge\, I’d be fine\, but my body would not respond. So I did what any logical 10 year old would do: I told my friends to push me off the edge. They were not too keen on the idea and tried to provide verbal assistance\, but their words could not overcome my body’s response. So I again told them to just push me. In fact\, I think I yelled it. So the oldest did! Off I went down the line\, slamming into the mattress. It was so fun! So up I went\, and this time I could step off the edge without assistance. \nThere are always going to be things in this world to be scared of\, sometimes all we need is a willing heart and a friend to give us a push! \nJohnny\, this has been fun writing for the M & M Dialogue. Thank you! I enjoy writing and I need to practice\, but I find it hard to write for myself or for its own sake. Having something to write for is very motivating! \n—Cody Dalton \n* \nToday’s study card encourages me to assess my progress with meditative practices. Quality of life should improve with consistent and genuine practice\, and if that is not true\, I’m probably not doing something correctly. YTH reflects on this at #129. Meditation results in becoming more anchored emotionally/intellectually/spiritually\, and more freedom from emotional ups and downs. \nThe founder of this meditation tradition outlined several benefits of meditation. “Better sleep.” Check. I sleep great\, most of the time. “Wake up feeling refreshed.” That is usually true. “Nightmares will become rare.” Hmmm\, I had a nightmare last week\, but they do seem rare. “Animals and people will feel drawn to you.” Well\, I focus on a mostly solitary existence\, but I don’t think I have “charisma.” I will work on this more. “Mind becomes immediately calm.” I’ll rate this 70-30\, true 70% of the time\, which is a huge improvement over where I was even two years ago. “Complexion brightens.” Seems true. “You’ll die with a clear mind.” Yeah\, I’m not ready to test that theory yet. I’ll take that on faith. \n—Shad Alexander \n* \n#365 \n“The moment of awareness\,” this is something that we as a nation need. First of all\, I am guilty of this. But it is a practice. Something not unattainable. To be aware of what is going on to the left and to the right. To see where we are headed. “We have to wake up!\,” this sleepy nation of ours. So many just going through the steps. Cookie cutter lives\, if only I had the opportunity to live outside these walls. No better\, no worse\, just driven. Driven to enjoy bettering myself and those to my left and right. \nLet’s start the revolution. \nThanks Johnny. \n—Brandon Gillespie \n* \nDear Johnny\, \nAs I think I told you\, I have taken up golf in my old age\, just by accident\, since I live a few blocks from a golf course\, I thought I would try it just to see what it was like. That was last spring. I quickly found that I loved the game. It is a practice of putting mind and body together in a challenging physical ritual\, and at it’s best there is a mystical experience to be had….fleetingly. \nI began with no skill and have worked my way up to having a tiny amount. But lately my eighty-year old body has been having trouble finding the intersection of time and space\, and I have been playing at the level I was playing at six months ago. Yesterday I played 18 holes particularly badly and came home feeling very frustrated. Of course I went out this morning and practiced\, and did a little better\, almost certainly because I wasn’t trying too hard to do well. \nThen I came home\, turned on my computer\, and read Beginner’s Mind. It came like a ray of light that if I can play with beginner’s mind\, I will no longer get frustrated. I will probably play better too\, although that won’t matter any more (yes it will). \nThanks\, Johnny\, this filled my tank. \nLove\, Ken \n—Ken Margolis \n* \n“So live your life that the fear of death can never enter your heart. Trouble no one about their religion; respect others’ views\, and demand that they respect yours. Love your life\, perfect your life\, beautify all things in your life.” \n—quote by an unknown author from Josh Underhill \n* \nYesterday [10/5] I heard that Thich Nhat Hanh has stopped taking food. They expect his “transition” soon. But today I heard that he occasionally stops eating and then starts again. So he is really unchanged. On October 11 he will be 94. \nI have been thinking about a teaching of Thay’s that I try to remember often. He said once\, “Are you enjoying not having a toothache?” This feels like a profound thought to me. Some time ago I had a pain in my side. It went on for a couple of months and I even went to a doctor\, which is rare for me. They didn’t find anything\, but the pain went away. Am I enjoying not having a pain in my side? In my school of Zen\, “appreciate your life” is a central teaching and it is certainly an important practice. The gift of life\, with all its beauty and sorrow\, is what we have. We tend to endlessly wish it was “better” but it’s a good practice to once in a while be grateful for just the amazing fact of it. But this other way\, the way of remembering that we are free of all kinds of suffering that we could be undergoing and/or have undergone is also good. \nThat’s my thought for the day. \n—Howard Thoresen \n* \nDear Johnny\, \nSome time ago you were kind enough to send us a copy of Ashley Lucas’s “Prison Theatre” book\, for which I sent you a brief thank-you note. Since then I have had   \nthe opportunity to read the book in more depth and realized how much of your \nprison work is discussed. Voodoo Doughnut’s contribution is discussed\, as well as that of the Smith Foundation. \nHowever her book is not all about love and roses. Page 146 points out that some of the women inmates [in Eve Ensler’s writing class] had killed people\, taken actual lives\, which makes evident that all life\, particularly including prison life\, is often filled with ambiguities and heartfelt remorse for past actions and a need for new beginnings. \nZen philosophy speaks to this concept: Always be a beginner\, always start with a fresh mind. Few concepts may be as important to success  in prison reform as new beginnings. \nPeace and Love\, \n—Jerry Smith \n* \nMichel Deforge has been meditating deeply on Your True Home\, and keeping an (almost) daily journal. Below are just a few of his meditations. (JS) \nAIMLESSNESS \nWhat an idea! I already contain God\, I am God (in flesh). I have everything I need to fulfill my destiny/purpose in this life—it’s already present here in “me\,” now.  I don’t need to strive to be/become anything or anyone! I am already perfected\, right now. The only “problem”/“challenge” I face is accepting this reality instead of spinning stories from the ego about being “less than” all this. I don’t stop being the flower\, I stop striving\, against “myself”; to become what I already am. Some days this acceptance is easier said than done. I suspect the challenges arise when “I” listen to ego’s stories and to all the nonsense (noise) from the ego of others. The only voice I need to hear\, like a clarion\, is the voice of God within—already complete\, already perfect\, already fully present in this place/time (now). \n* \nI AM HERE FOR YOU \nI started today’s musings early\, got distracted\, listening to my cellie tell his tales\, and now I am back. I like the ideal I see at the core: life’s purpose. I may not fully grasp how or why “I” am here now\, but I can be open to moments as they occur—“you.” (There is a hint of reciprocity\, but I find that too ego-centric a thought to fully allow.) My “you” can be anyone/anything as Thich Nhat Hanh points out—self\, now\, other(s). My thoughts now wander. If I (all of us) approach life from this vantage: “I am here for you\,” what would life\, “this” world be like\, or how different would it be? I see this modeled by Johnny\, Jude\, Dick\, Kristen\, Jake\, Sarah\, Bill\, Deborah—ALL our OHOM friends and volunteers\, each in their own unique and special way. I have tried and failed at this on occasion. I wonder\, is this a deliberate act or a skill to cultivate\, or\, is it a mindset for life\, being open to this moment (now) and what- or whomever is present\, as part of the moment\, for “me” to be present myself to only this now and all it contains? I like the mental openness\, opposed to the striving (grasping?) to do or control; but\, just letting be as is… \n* \nFOUNDATION OF LOVE \nI agree with this day’s sentiment; yet I know that it is also hard to do at times. Maybe if I can learn (remember) that there is no “you” or “me” (duality) and begin to see everything as a part or piece of the One\, All-existent\, then maybe it will seem less challenging to love “self\,” since the One is love and we (I) are all part of (included within) that One. I suspect the delusion of duality\, believing “I” exist separate from “you” and the All-that-is\, leads to selfishness. “I” must protect “me.” Breaking down ego can help [me] see that I and you are part of unity. If I can love you\, then I can love me\, and as I learn to love me better then I can love you better too. I love you! \n* \nEMBRACE THEM WITH GREAT TENDERNESS \n….I also enjoyed/related to Aaron’s ideas about feeling lack of worth\, as a traumatized child\, insecure and uncertain. Are there not times to be tender toward self/other and allow the feeling flow\, while reminding self that\, “Yes\, I am worth the ‘good’ I experience and the ‘bad’ is just suffering over aversions I haven’t yet LET GO. Maybe? I wonder\, what child-hurt left myself\, Aaron\, or others with this scar of doubt? How do we (can we or anyone) heal this harm? Is it preventable? I hope! \n—Michel Deforge \n* \nKatie sent a letter from Thich Nhat Hanh and a poem by Juan Felipe Herrera. (JS) \nTomorrow [10/11/20] is Thich Nhat Hanh’s birthday.  It is a gift to be able to share together around Thay’s words and his own practice.  Below is a copy of what he posted yesterday on the importance of loving our Home\, Mother Earth—for peace\, world peace. \n  \nA LETTER TO THE EARTH \n  \nDear Mother Earth \n  \nEvery time I step upon the Earth\, I will train myself to see that I am walking on you. Every time I place my feet on the Earth\, I have a chance to be in touch with you and with all your wonders. With every step I can touch the fact that you aren’t just beneath me\, dear Mother\, but you are also within me. Each mindful and gentle step can nourish me\, heal me\, and bring me into contact with myself and you in the present moment. \n  \nWalking in this spirit\, I can experience awakening\, I can awaken to the fact that I am alive and that life is a precious miracle. \nI can awaken to the fact that I am never alone and can never die. You are always there within me and around me at every step\, nourishing me\, embracing me\, and carrying me far into the future. \n  \nDear Mother\, I make the promise today to return your love and fulfill this wish by investing every step I take on you with love and tenderness. I am walking not merely on matter\, but on spirit. \n  \nThich Nhat Hanh \n* \n  \nBasho & Mandela  \n  \nAs Basho has said— \nit is a narrow road to the Deep North—as Mandela has said \nthe haphazard segregation later became a well-orchestrated \nsegregation \n—as Basho has said the journey began with an attained \nawareness \nthat at any moment you can become a weather-exposed skeleton \n—think of us in this manner \nthese are notes for your nourishment—hold them \nas bowls of kindness \nfrom journeys of bravery \nthe will to seek & find the sudden turning rivers & the dawn-eyed \n    freedom \n  \n—Juan Felipe Herrera \n  \n—Katie Radditz \n* \nWithin the Window Frame is an exercise or project that I adapted from a friend who is an artist and who uses it in her Nature Journaling art classes. Here we are going to use it as a focusing and centering process. We can use writing with this activity\, drawing\, singing\, collage\, etc. The methods of “filling the window frame” are not limited to any one mode. \nFirst choose a frame size\, maybe one like a big hardback book\, maybe one like a small paperback—either cut out the frame from paper or cardboard to use or imagine the size. Then choose something to concentrate on that is near at hand—what is right in front of you in your room\, on your table\, even out your window. It can be a person or two\, an object (your sandwich or meal\, a purse\, etc.). \nNext look at it\, in real life or in your imagination\, with fuzzed eyes. Don’t look for specifics. Try and see outlines\, colors\, or emotions. Try this for a few minutes being open to the essence of the situation. \nFinally start filling the frame\, putting into the window what you see\, and that can be either physically or emotionally what you see. \nMaybe start with words—a haiku\, a short poem\, or just the most vivid and necessary words. Then jump to a short story. \nOr try drawing in cartoon images. Then maybe a drawing that is as detailed as you can make it. \nAfter doing one of “filling in the window frame” try another\, maybe do a few each day. See if you can notice a pattern or see a direction revealing itself. Or maybe just a mood or feeling common to one day\, either in your mind or in the situation around you. \nThis project is a process through which we can begin to see our world and ourselves in more focused and attentive ways\, through words or images or both. This is one way of meditating on your world and your outlook—not that they are so very separate!! After awhile you will see threads of connection and understanding. \nMaybe you can keep these windows as a journal of your experiences. Maybe come back to them as small frames of insight into an otherwise busy time. \nEnjoy.  \n—Deborah Buchanan \n* \n“Rather than love\, than money\, than fame\, give me truth. I sat at a table where were rich food and wine in abundance\, an obsequious attendance\, but sincerity and truth were not; and I went away hungry from the inhospitable board. The hospitality was as cold as the ices.” \n—from Walden by Henry David Thoreau (quote sent by Jake Green) \n* \nI have been thinking about the power of love lately. We are in some unprecedented times with covid\, the wildfires and all the civil unrest. It is a powerful thing to see communities come together and help their neighbors when they are down and feeling lonely and lost. The stories you hear of people who have lost homes due to the fires or loved ones from covid\, there are just as many positive stories of neighbors or strangers stepping up to help ease their pain. It can be just a simple sign that tells the first responders how much they are appreciated and to see their reaction when the street is filled with people holding signs and telling them that they love them. I can tell you first hand\, recently returned from the fire lines\, that after working days on end and feeling tired and burned out\, then having people honk their horn and yell their appreciation—it gives you strength to carry on. \nLove can come from some very unexpected places when you least expect it and you may need it the most. It is an amazing thing that people are out there that care for their fellow humans. Even when the love might not be directed at you personally\, to see others loving others\, like I talk about above\, can have a huge impact on people. Reading all of your words and the newsletters has been great. When I see that type of thing it makes me want to be a better\, more loving and compassionate person. It is infectious. \nI recently lost my father who was killed in a tragic motor vehicle accident. He was my rock and I was so looking forward to spending time with him when I got home. I tried to be strong at first\, but I started to slip into a very lonely dark place within a month. Nothing made sense and I felt fearful. Then I started to get unexpected support from the community where I grew up. A friend from the past reached out to me and we have been speaking ever since. Their love and support has seen me through the worst of it\, and I am feeling excited again about going home and continuing my father’s legacy. Love is a beautiful thing and it knows when you need it most\, how others’ compassion and understanding can bring you through dark times and make you feel hopeful again. Neat! Let’s all keep loving one another for the sake of those that may not know they need it. \n—Aaron Gilbert \n* \n#53   When You Argue with the One You Love \nIn my past\, when I have argued with the ones I love I always felt like I wanted to just be a million miles in any direction away from them. A lot of my childhood was filled with the ones I loved fighting and arguing. It scared me then and it scares me to this day. When it is all said and done I really just want all of us to be happy\, and when I imagine being 300 years away from the one I love\, well…the content of any argument is not worth it. I would rather forgive everyone that ever hurt or wronged me\, and replace the hate with love and joy and kindness—and fill the argument with peace and love. To forgive is to live in love\, to do this is the key to peace\, and to have peace is to allow the seeds of love to grow. \n—Rocky Hutchinson \n* \nWell\, that’s a wrap for our second Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue. Lovely! \nThe next one will come out on November 15th. It’s a conversation. It goes to just over a dozen people who live in prison and just over two dozen people who don’t. Please write or email me with your contributions. You can respond to what someone else has written\, use a poem or text for inspiration\, share a poem you’ve written\, or your own ruminations. \n  \nMay all people be happy. \nMay we live in love. \n  \n—Johnny Stallings
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/meditation-mindfulness-dialogue-10-15-20-11-14-20/
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DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20201015
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20201022
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SUMMARY:peace\, love & pollyanna  10/15/20
DESCRIPTION:  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nOctober 15\, 2020 \n  \nI WANT TO BE MORE LIKE POLLYANNA \n  \nPollyanna: noun an excessively cheerful or optimistic person. \n  \nIn conversations with people\, I often find myself trying to put a positive spin on things. Is there something wrong with me? Could I somehow be (shudder)…unrealistic?! Afraid to face facts?! A Pollyanna?!!! \n  \nI always got the impression that there was something horribly wrong with being “a Pollyanna.” But I was beginning to suspect that maybe I am one. I decided to investigate. Just who or what is a Pollyanna? I got the book—Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter\, first published in 1913. I read it. I realize that I am no Pollyanna. But now I aspire to be more like her every day. \n  \nAs the story opens\, Pollyanna is eleven years old. She has lived in poverty with her loving father\, a minister. He has just died\, and now the orphaned Pollyanna has become the ward of her unhappy Aunt Polly. She is a cheerful little girl. Maybe even excessively cheerful. And for this sin she has become an object of scorn for hipsters\, cynics\, intellectuals\, and people who suffer from depression and self-pity—(who probably have not deigned to actually read the book). \n  \nPollyanna likes to play the “glad game\,” which her father taught her. Here’s the story of the glad game as she tells it to her aunt’s maid\, Nancy: \n  \n     “But\, say\, we better hurry. I’ve got ter get them dishes done\, ye know.” \n     “I’ll help\,” promised Pollyanna\, promptly. \n     “Oh\, Miss Pollyanna!” demurred Nancy. \n     For a moment there was silence. The sky was darkening fast. Pollyanna took a firmer hold of her friend’s arm. \n     “I reckon I’m glad\, after all\, that you DID get scared—a little\, ’cause then you came after me\,” she shivered. \n     “Poor little lamb! And you must be hungry\, too. I—I’m afraid you’ll have ter have bread and milk in the kitchen with me. Yer aunt didn’t like it—because you didn’t come down ter supper\, ye know.” \n     “But I couldn’t. I was up here.” \n     “Yes; but—she didn’t know that\, you see!” observed Nancy\, dryly\, stifling a chuckle. “I’m sorry about the bread and milk; I am\, I am.” \n     “Oh\, I’m not. I’m glad.” \n     “Glad! Why?” \n     “Why\, I like bread and milk\, and I’d like to eat with you. I don’t see any trouble about being glad about that.” \n     “You don’t seem ter see any trouble bein’ glad about everythin’\,” retorted Nancy\, choking a little over her remembrance of Pollyanna’s brave attempts to like the bare little attic room. \n     Pollyanna laughed softly. \n     “Well\, that’s the game\, you know\, anyway.” \n     “The—GAME?” \n     “Yes; the ‘just being glad’ game.” \n     “Whatever in the world are you talkin’ about?” \n     “Why\, it’s a game. Father told it to me\, and it’s lovely\,” rejoined Pollyanna. “We’ve played it always\, ever since I was a little\, little girl. I told the Ladies’ Aid\, and they played it—some of them.” \n     “What is it? I ain’t much on games\, though.” \n     Pollyanna laughed again\, but she sighed\, too; and in the gathering twilight her face looked thin and wistful. \n     “Why\, we began it on some crutches that came in a missionary barrel.” \n     “CRUTCHES!” \n     “Yes. You see I’d wanted a doll\, and father had written them so; but when the barrel came the lady wrote that there hadn’t any dolls come in\, but the little crutches had. So she sent ’em along as they might come in handy for some child\, sometime. And that’s when we began it.” \n     “Well\, I must say I can’t see any game about that\,” declared Nancy\, almost irritably. \n     “Oh\, yes; the game was to just find something about everything to be glad about—no matter what ’twas\,” rejoined Pollyanna\, earnestly. “And we began right then—on the crutches.” \n     “Well\, goodness me! I can’t see anythin’ ter be glad about—gettin’ a pair of crutches when you wanted a doll!” \n     Pollyanna clapped her hands. \n     “There is—there is\,” she crowed. “But I couldn’t see it\, either\, Nancy\, at first\,” she added\, with quick honesty. “Father had to tell it to me.” \n     “Well\, then\, suppose YOU tell ME\,” almost snapped Nancy. \n     “Goosey! Why\, just be glad because you don’t—NEED—’EM!” exulted Pollyanna\, triumphantly. “You see it’s just as easy—when you know how!” \n     “Well\, of all the queer doin’s!” breathed Nancy\, regarding Pollyanna with almost fearful eyes. \n     “Oh\, but it isn’t queer—it’s lovely\,” maintained Pollyanna enthusiastically. “And we’ve played it ever since. And the harder ’tis\, the more fun ’tis to get ’em out; only—only sometimes it’s almost too hard—like when your father goes to Heaven\, and there isn’t anybody but a Ladies’ Aid left.” \n     “Yes\, or when you’re put in a snippy little room ‘way at the top of the house with nothin’ in it\,” growled Nancy. \n     Pollyanna sighed. \n     “That was a hard one\, at first\,” she admitted\, “specially when I was so kind of lonesome. I just didn’t feel like playing the game\, anyway\, and I HAD been wanting pretty things\, so! Then I happened to think how I hated to see my freckles in the looking-glass\, and I saw that lovely picture out the window\, too; so then I knew I’d found the things to be glad about. You see\, when you’re hunting for the glad things\, you sort of forget the other kind—like the doll you wanted\, you know.” \n     “Humph!” choked Nancy\, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. \n     “Most generally it doesn’t take so long\,” sighed Pollyanna; “and lots of times now I just think of them WITHOUT thinking\, you know. I’ve got so used to playing it. It’s a lovely game. F-father and I used to like it so much\,” she faltered. “I suppose\, though\, it—it’ll be a little harder now\, as long as I haven’t anybody to play it with. Maybe Aunt Polly will play it\, though\,” she added\, as an after-thought. \n     “My stars and stockings!—HER!” breathed Nancy\, behind her teeth. Then\, aloud\, she said doggedly: “See here\, Miss Pollyanna\, I ain’t sayin’ that I’ll play it very well\, and I ain’t sayin’ that I know how\, anyway; but I’ll play it with ye\, after a fashion—I just will\, I will!” \n     “Oh\, Nancy!” exulted Pollyanna\, giving her a rapturous hug. “That’ll be splendid! Won’t we have fun?” \n     “Er—maybe\,” conceded Nancy\, in open doubt. “But you mustn’t count too much on me\, ye know. I never was no case fur games\, but I’m a-goin’ ter make a most awful old try on this one. You’re goin’ ter have some one ter play it with\, anyhow\,” she finished\, as they entered the kitchen together. \n     Pollyanna ate her bread and milk with good appetite; then\, at Nancy’s suggestion\, she went into the sitting room\, where her aunt sat reading. Miss Polly looked up coldly. \n     “Have you had your supper\, Pollyanna?” \n     “Yes\, Aunt Polly.” \n     “I’m very sorry\, Pollyanna\, to have been obliged so soon to send you into the kitchen to eat bread and milk.” \n     “But I was real glad you did it\, Aunt Polly. I like bread and milk\, and Nancy\, too. You mustn’t feel bad about that one bit.” \n     Aunt Polly sat suddenly a little more erect in her chair. \n     “Pollyanna\, it’s quite time you were in bed. You have had a hard day\, and to-morrow we must plan your hours and go over your clothing to see what it is necessary to get for you. Nancy will give you a candle. Be careful how you handle it. Breakfast will be at half-past seven. See that you are down to that. Good-night.” \n     Quite as a matter of course\, Pollyanna came straight to her aunt’s side and gave her an affectionate hug. \n     “I’ve had such a beautiful time\, so far\,” she sighed happily. “I know I’m going to just love living with you but then\, I knew I should before I came. Good-night\,” she called cheerfully\, as she ran from the room. \n     “Well\, upon my soul!” ejaculated Miss Polly\, half aloud. “What a most extraordinary child!” Then she frowned. “She’s ‘glad’ I punished her\, and I ‘mustn’t feel bad one bit\,’ and she’s going to ‘love to live’ with me! Well\, upon my soul!” ejaculated Miss Polly again\, as she took up her book. \n     Fifteen minutes later\, in the attic room\, a lonely little girl sobbed into the tightly-clutched sheet: \n     “I know\, father-among-the-angels\, I’m not playing the game one bit now—not one bit; but I don’t believe even you could find anything to be glad about sleeping all alone ‘way off up here in the dark—like this. If only I was near Nancy or Aunt Polly\, or even a Ladies’ Aider\, it would be easier!” \n     Down-stairs in the kitchen\, Nancy\, hurrying with her belated work\, jabbed her dish-mop into the milk pitcher\, and muttered jerkily: \n     “If playin’ a silly-fool game—about bein’ glad you’ve got crutches when you want dolls—is got ter be—my way—o’ bein’ that rock o’ refuge—why\, I’m a-goin’ ter play it—I am\, I am!” \n  \nMrs. Snow is an “invalid\,” confined to her bed. Twice a week\, as an act of charity\, Aunt Polly has her maid Nancy bring hot food to her. Pollyanna volunteers to do it. She tries to cheer Mrs. Snow up: \n  \n     “They didn’t tell me you were so pretty!” \n     “Me!—pretty!” scoffed the woman\, bitterly. \n     “Why\, yes. Didn’t you know it?” cried Pollyanna. \n     “Well\, no\, I didn’t\,” retorted Mrs. Snow\, dryly. Mrs. Snow had lived forty years\, and for fifteen of those years she had been too busy wishing things were different to find much time to enjoy things as they were…. \n     “Oh\, I love black hair! I should be so glad if I only had it\,” sighed Pollyanna. \n     Mrs. Snow dropped the mirror and turned irritably. \n     “Well\, you wouldn’t!—not if you were me. You wouldn’t be glad for black hair nor anything else—if you had to lie here all day as I do!” \n     Pollyanna bent her brows in a thoughtful frown. \n     “Why\, ‘twould be kind of hard—to do it then\, wouldn’t it?” she mused aloud. \n     “Do what?” \n     “Be glad about things.” \n     “Be glad about things—when you’re sick in bed all your days? Well\, I should say it would\,” retorted Mrs. Snow. “If you don’t think so\, just tell me something to be glad about; that’s all!” \n     To Mrs. Snow’s unbounded amazement\, Pollyanna sprang to her feet and clapped her hands. \n     “Oh\, goody! That’ll be a hard one—won’t it? I’ve got to go\, now\, but I’ll think and think all the way home; and maybe the next time I come I can tell it to you. Good-by. I’ve had a lovely time! Good-by\,” she called again\, as she tripped through the doorway. \n  \nPollyanna returns a couple days later. \n  \n     “I’ve thought it up\, Mrs. Snow—what you can be glad about.” \n     “GLAD about! What do you mean?” \n     “Why\, I told you I would. Don’t you remember? You asked me to tell you something to be glad about—glad\, you know\, even though you did have to lie here abed all day.” \n     “Oh!” scoffed the woman. “THAT? Yes\, I remember that; but I didn’t suppose you were in earnest any more than I was.” \n     “Oh\, yes\, I was\,” nodded Pollyanna\, triumphantly; “and I found it\, too. But ‘TWAS hard. It’s all the more fun\, though\, always\, when ’tis hard. And I will own up\, honest to true\, that I couldn’t think of anything for a while. Then I got it.” \n     “Did you\, really? Well\, what is it?” Mrs. Snow’s voice was sarcastically polite.   \n     Pollyanna drew a long breath. \n     “I thought—how glad you could be—that other folks weren’t like you—all sick in bed like this\, you know\,” she announced impressively. \n* \n  \nCheerful and optimistic people are often considered to be not very bright. For many years now\, depressed chain-smoking intellectuals have been assuring us that existence is absurd\, that life is meaningless and we’re all doomed. As Bertolt Brecht said: “He who laughs has not yet heard the bad news.” But if happiness is just for half-wits\, why is the Dalai Lama always chuckling? \n  \nThe novel Pollyanna brings me back to a favorite them of mine: Culture That Nurtures. That’s what culture is supposed to do: make us feel good\, kind\, happy\, safe. Our popular entertainment—movies\, TV\, video games—is a barrage of violence. It marinates us in fear\, anger\, hatred and gloom. Like Charles Dickens\, Eleanor H. Porter wanted to make us kinder. People watch “A Christmas Carol” and “It’s a Wonderful Life” and “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” every year to be reminded of our essential goodness. \n  \nSurely there has always been\, is now\, and will always be terrible violence\, tragedy and injustice in our world. It is just for that reason that we need healing stories—stories that remind of our essential goodness\, stories that nurture peace\, love\, happiness and understanding in our hearts and minds. \n  \nLast Sunday\, at our Bibliophiles Unanimous Zoom gathering\, we were talking about Positive Futures and Utopian Visions. Ken Margolis was inspired by reading the book The Corner That Held Them by Sylvia Townsend Warner to announce excitedly that This is Utopia! Jeffrey Sher told us that when Stephen J. Gould was asked how he could be optimistic\, he replied: “What’s the alternative?” Dave Duncan told us that David Byrne\, formerly of Talking Heads\, has started a website called Reasons To Be Cheerful. Here’s the link: \n  \nhttps://reasonstobecheerful.world \n  \nI recommended books by David Korten and Charles Eisenstein. There are a lot of their talks on YouTube. Here are a couple links: \n  \nhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SRYEHOStmss&t=3211s \n  \nhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YKYqbNzAav4 \n  \nSomeone who helps me to be more Pollyanna-like is Thich Nhat Hanh. A lot of his talks are on YouTube. Here’s a link to an interview Oprah Winfrey did with him: \n  \nhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NJ9UtuWfs3U \n  \nI was just heading out to print up this newsletter\, but I happened to check my Inbox and found this poem from Kim. It’s perfect for our theme. Here it is: \n  \nOur Next Big Thing  \n  \nThe deal-maker is in denial\, Mr. Kentucky \non a tear\, the zigzag death toll seeks the sky\, \nsomeone gets shot asking for a mask\, a naming \nparty sparks another outbreak\, the news is \nmega fires and hurricanes\, and our fears \ncome true like wishes turned to curses \nthat prey upon our foolishness.  \n  \nSo why does the wren still sing? Why \ndid I see a child skip\, a mail clerk grin \nin that moment she adjusted her mask? \nWhy the uptick in random kindnesses? \nDogs don’t stop wagging\, or flowers \nopening their secrets. We must be \ngetting ready for the next big thing. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nWhen I told Kim that this week’s issue features Pollyanna\, he said: “Oh\, the Glad Game!” (I’m afraid Kim might have some Pollyanna-ish tendencies himself.) He recommended the cartoon by Gary Larson where two devils in Hell are watching a guy whistle while he hauls brimstone in a wheelbarrow. One says to the other: “You know\, we’re just not getting to that guy.” \n  \nMay all people be happy. \nMay we live in love. \n  \n—Johnny
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-pollyanna-10-15-20/
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DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
CREATED:20201008T171410Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20220718T192249Z
UID:1331-1602115200-1602719999@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  10/8/20
DESCRIPTION:  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nOctober 8\, 2020 \n  \nI like to begin each day in what I call “the Golden World.” One day\, some years ago\, I sat down and tried to describe it. It’s not easy to describe\, since\, like everything else\, it’s indescribable. Here’s what I cam up with (slightly revised): \n  \n  \nTHE GOLDEN WORLD \n  \nwhere is the golden world? \nit’s right here \n  \nwhat is it? \nit’s a place of quiet joy \na place where everything is miraculous \n  \ni know i’m in the golden world \nwhen there is nowhere i would rather be \n  \nthe golden world is paradise \nnot the paradise that existed long ago \n  \nor the paradise that is yet to come \n  \nbut this one \n  \nto get to the golden world \none thing that sometimes helps \nis to slow down \n  \nrushing around \ntrying to get somewhere else \nwe fail to appreciate where we are \n  \nwhen this ordinary world is alive for us \nwith beauty\, with joy\, with love\, with peace \nwe are in the golden world \n  \nthis ordinary world is the golden world \ntransformed by a shift in the way we see it \nor feel it \n  \none of the most astonishing things about us \nis our ability to take things for granted \nwe get used to trees\, to the sky\, to birds \nto each other \nto ourselves \nto life as we live it \n  \nwe are just here a little while \nwe better wake up right now \n  \nwe are always in the golden world \nbut when we imagine it is somewhere else \nwe feel that we are in exile \n  \nhoping we will somehow improve \nwishing things were different \nwe miss the blessings we have \nthe blessings of who we are \n  \na goldfinch doesn’t imagine that it can improve \n  \nthere is suffering within us and around us \nthe remedy for the suffering within us is close at hand \n  \nas for the big world \nit is always simultaneously full of great suffering \nand great beauty \n  \nif we do not live in quiet joy \nin beauty\, in truth \nin freedom\, in love— \nwhat i am calling the golden world— \nwe cannot transform the suffering \n  \nof course\, some suffering is built into the world \nwe are mortal creatures \ndisease and death are inevitable \n  \nbut there is gratuitous suffering \nwe create through our ignorance\, \nour hatred\, our anger\, our fear \n  \nif we imagine we have an enemy \nwe are always at war \n  \nour inner conflict is the source of much outer conflict \nwars begin in the minds of men \n  \nthere is a stillness \nin which there is no conflict \nwe can live there \nor here \nin the golden world \n  \nthe peace which passeth understanding \nis our birthright \nmaybe we forgot \ngot lost \n  \nit’s time to remember \nto come home \nto the golden world \n  \nwe are born into the golden world \nwe learn to understand and to speak a language \nit’s an astonishing thing! \nwe create an identity\, a story about who we are \nwe create a mythos\, a story about the world in which we live \nthese are fantastic achievements! \n  \nbut\, alas!\, these stories become the prisons in which we live \nwe take everything new and turn it into something old \n  \nwe don’t live in the world \nwe live inside our descriptions of the world \n  \nwe are fictional characters \nliving in fictional worlds \n  \nthe golden world is this ordinary world \nnot mediated by thought or language \n  \nwe touch it all the time \nwhenever we take a sip of tea \nand are not doing anything but taking a sip of tea \nwe are in the golden world \n  \na quiet setting makes it easier for us to experience the golden world \nbut when the stillness is strong within us \nthe whole noisy world is golden \n  \nwhen thought and language are our tools \nrather than our masters \nthey are a blessing \nnot a curse \n  \nwhen meditation is not just something we do for half-an-hour in the morning \nwhen we live in meditation \nwe live in the golden world \n  \nwe are always in the golden world \nwhether we know it or not \nthe place we’ve always wanted to get to \nis where we are \n  \nthat which is not born \nand does not die \nis who we are \n  \nin the golden world \nthere is nothing to strive for \n  \nno regret \n  \nall our sins are washed away \n  \nthe golden world is not an imaginary place \nthe world described in the newspaper is an imaginary place \n  \nthe golden world is never somewhere else \nit is always right now where we are \nor not at all \n  \nwhen you are in it \nyou are not \n  \nwhen you can’t see it \nyou are blind \n  \nwhen the poet said \n“each moment and whatever happens thrills me with joy” \nhe was in it \nand when he said \n“Divine am I inside and out\, \nand I make holy whatever I touch \nor am touch’d from” \n  \nwhen another poet felt that he “was blessed \nand could bless” \nhe was in it \n  \nanother poet clarified the matter when she said: \n“The Infinite a sudden Guest \nHas been assumed to be– \nBut how can that stupendous come \nWhich never went away?” \n  \nyou can’t get to the golden world by trying to go there \nwhen you are not trying to go somewhere \nnot trying to do something \nnot trying to be someone \nyou might find that you are in the golden world \n  \nwhen i’m in it\, i think \n“this is my home \ni must never allow myself to lose this \neven for a moment” \n  \nthen\, later\, it’s gone \ndid i leave the golden world? \nor did it leave me? \n  \ni find myself in exile \nand want to return \n  \ni know that that wanting condemns me to exile \nand so i seek to find my way home by a kind of indirection \ninstead of doing something \ni do nothing \n  \nwhen the mind is quiet and alert \nit doesn’t matter whether “i” am in the golden world or not \nthe question doesn’t arise \nor if it does \nit is seen for what it is \n  \nthe squirrel outside\, sitting on a branch \nhas no ideas about a golden world \nand so it lives in the golden world \n  \n“the golden world” is a name i give to something \nthat has no name \n  \nto have an identity is to be in exile \n  \nam i in the golden world? \nor is the golden world in me? \n  \nbehind each person’s mask \nshines a radiant\, glorious\, perfect being \n  \nbeneath who we pretend to be \nis who we are \n  \nat those moments when we see through everyone’s mask \nwe are in the golden world \n  \nwhen we see through someone’s mask \nit is impossible not to love them \n  \nfor this to be paradise \nwe have to love everyone \nwithout love\, it isn’t paradise \n  \nwhen where we are \nand where we want to be \nare the same place \nwe are in the golden world \n  \nthe seer sees the golden world \nthe seeker seeks the golden world \nthe seeker asks: where is it? \nthe seer replies: where isn’t it? \n  \nthis is it \n  \nyou want a miracle? \nthe poet said: \n“a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions of infidels” \nif that is so \nwhere can you find something that is not miraculous? \n  \nthere has never been \nis not now \nand will never be \nanything more perfect \nmore beautiful \nmore miraculous \nthan a glass of water \n  \nthere are miracles everywhere you look \nthe eyes with which you see \nare miraculous \nour brains\, nervous systems \nour heart’s pumping blood \nmiracles! \n  \nthat we are alive \nand aware \nin this world of marvels \nis a great blessing \n  \n  \n—Johnny Stallings
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-10-8-20/
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DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20201001
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20201015
DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
CREATED:20201202T223748Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20201202T224819Z
UID:1531-1601510400-1602719999@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:Beginner's Mind by Shunryū Suzuki
DESCRIPTION:Beginner’s Mind \n  \nPeople say that practicing Zen is difficult\, but there is a misunderstanding as to why. It is not difficult because it is hard to sit in the cross-legged position\, or to attain enlightenment. It is difficult because it is hard to keep our mind pure and our practice pure in its fundamental sense. The Zen school developed in many ways after it was established in China\, but at the same time\, it became more and more impure. But I do not want to talk about Chinese Zen or the history of Zen. I am interested in helping you keep your practice from becoming impure. \n  \nIn Japan we have the phrase shoshin\, which means “beginner’s mind.” The goal of practice is always to keep our beginner’s mind. Suppose you recite the Prajna Parmita Sutra only once. It might be a very good recitation. But what would happen to you if you recited it twice\, three times\, four times\, or more? You might easily lose your original attitude towards it. The same thing will happen in your other Zen practices. For a while you will keep your beginner’s mind\, but if you continue to practice one\, two\, three years or more\, although you may improve some\, you are liable to lose the limitless meaning of original mind. \n  \nFor Zen students the most important thing is not to be dualistic. Our “original mind” includes everything within itself. You should not lose your self-sufficient state of mind. This does not mean a closed mind\, but actually an empty mind and a ready mind. If your mind is empty\, it is always ready for anything; it is open to everything. In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities; in the expert’s there are few. \n  \nIf you discriminate too much\, you limit yourself. If you are too demanding or too greedy\, your mind is not rich and self-sufficient. If we lose our original self-sufficient mind\, we will lose all precepts. When your mind becomes demanding\, when you long for something\, you will end up violating your own precepts: not to tell lies\, not to steal\, not to kill\, not to be immoral\, and so forth. If you keep your original mind\, the precepts will keep themselves. \n  \nIn the beginner’s mind there is no thought\, “I have attained something.” All self-centered thoughts limit our vast mind. When we have no thought of achievement\, no thought of self\, we are true beginners. Then we can really learn something. The beginner’s mind is the mind of compassion. When our mind is compassionate\, it is boundless. Dogen-zenji\, the founder of our school\, always emphasized how important it is to resume our boundless original mind. Then we are always true to ourselves\, in sympathy with all beings\, and can actually practice. \n  \nSo the most difficult thing is always to keep your beginner’s mind. There is no need to have a deep understanding of Zen. Even though you read much Zen literature\, you must read each sentence with a fresh mind. You should not say\, “I know what Zen is\,” or “I have attained enlightenment.” This is also the real secret of the arts: always be a beginner. Be very careful about this point. If you start to practice zazen\, you will begin to appreciate your beginner’s mind. It is the secret of Zen practice. \n  \n—Shunryū Suzuki\, the Prologue to Zen Mind\, Beginner’s Mind  (1970)
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/beginners-mind-by-shunryu-suzuki/
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DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20201001
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DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
CREATED:20201001T182041Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20250718T121004Z
UID:1319-1601510400-1602115199@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  10/1/20
DESCRIPTION:  \n  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nOctober 1\, 2020 \n  \nOn September 27\, at our Bibliophiles Unanimous! Zoom gathering\, we were talking about “Nature\, Ecology and the Environmental Crisis.” Katie Radditz mentioned Gary Snyder’s essay “Fire\, Floods and Following the Dao\,” from his book Back on the Fire\, published in 2007. She mentioned how relevant it is to our current wildfires in Oregon\, California and Washington. That reminded me of Gary Snyder’s great essay from 1969: “Four Changes\,” which came at a time when a lot of people were waking up\, and which helped that to happen. Later\, it was published in his Pulitzer Prize winning book Turtle Island. But before getting to that\, I’d like to start this issue with one of Kim’s recent poems: \n  \nHoly Smokes \n  \nDownwind from where the forest burns \nwe inhale the cindered souls of trees \nthat in a whoosh became particulate \nand rode the wind to enter us. With \nthis breath take in the spirit whisker \nof a mouse\, incinerate wren’s cry \nclenched and tumbled from the sky\, \nmoss that leaped from green to nothing\, \nflailing leaf that in a fiery gasp \nrushed through charcoal into dust \ninside the billow flame that roiled and— \nholy\, holy\, holy became the smoke-smudge \npall that smuggled mountains into us. \n  \nNow freighted for life with dusky mist\, \neven as we help sustain our neighbors \nwho lost everything but life\, we survivors \nare the walking shrine of little lives. We are them\, \nare earth mind suddenly\, to weigh by human choice \nwhat’s best for upward yearning seed of cedar\, \nfootfall of mouse\, wingbeat of wren. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nAnd now… \n  \n  \nFOUR CHANGES \n  \nI. POPULATION \n  \nThe Condition \n  \nPosition:  Human beings are but a part of the fabric of life — dependent on the whole fabric for their very existence. As the most highly developed tool-using animal\, we must recognize that the unknown evolutionary destinies of other life forms are to be respected\, and we must act as gentle steward of the Earth’s community of being. \nSituation:  There are now too many human beings\, and the problem is growing rapidly worse. It is potentially disastrous not only for the human race but for most other life forms. \nGoal:  The goal would be half of the present world population\, or less. \n  \nAction \n  \nSocial/Political:  First\, a massive effort to convince the governments and leaders of the world that the problem is severe. And that all talk about raising food-production — well intentioned as it is — simply puts off the only real solution: reduce population. Demand immediate participation by all countries in programs to legalize abortion\, encourage vasectomy\, sterilization (provided by free clinics)\, and try to correct traditional cultural attitudes that tend to force women into childbearing\, remove income tax deductions for more than two children above a specified income level\, and scale it so that lower-income families are forced to be careful too\, or pay families to limit their number; take a vigorous stand against the policy of the right-wing in the Catholic hierarchy and any other institutions that exercise an irresponsible social force in regard to this question; oppose and correct simple-minded boosterism that equates population growth with continuing prosperity; work ceaselessly to have all political questions be seen in the light of this prime problem. \nIn many cases the governments are the wrong agents to address. Their most likely use of a problem or crisis is another excuse for extending their own powers. Abortion should be legal and voluntary. Great care should be taken that no one is ever tricked or forced into sterilizations. The whole population issue is fraught with contradictions\, but the fact stands that by standards of planetary biological welfare\, there are already too many human beings. The long-range answer is a steady\, lower birthrate\, area by area of the globe. The measure of optimum population should be based on what is best for the total ecological health of the region\, including its wildlife population. \nThe Community:  Explore other social structures and marriage forms\, such as group marriage and polyandrous marriage\, which provide family life but many less children. Share the pleasure of raising children widely\, so that all need not directly reproduce in order to enter into this basic human experience. We must hope that no one woman would give birth to more than one child or two children\, during this period of crisis. Adopt children. Let reverence for life and reverence for the feminine mean also a reverence for other species\, and for future human lives\, most of which are threatened. \nOur Own Heads:  “I am a child of all life\, and all living beings are my brothers and sisters\, my children and grandchildren. And there is a child within me waiting to be born\, the baby of a new and wiser self.” Love\, lovemaking\, seen as the vehicle of mutual realization for a couple\, where the creation of new selves and a new world of being is as important as reproducing our kind. \n  \nII. POLLUTION \n  \nThe Condition \n  \nPosition:  Pollution is of two types. One sort results from an excess of some fairly ordinary substance—smoke\, or solid waste—that cannot be absorbed or transmuted rapidly enough to offset its introduction into the environment\, thus causing changes the great cycle is not prepared for. (All organisms have wastes and by-products\, and these are indeed part of the total biosphere: energy is passed along the line\, refracted in various ways. This is cycling\, not pollution.) The other sort is powerful modern chemicals and poisons\, products of recent technology that the biosphere is totally unprepared for. Such are DDT and similar chlorinated hydrocarbons—nuclear testing fallout and nuclear waste—poison gas\, germ and virus storage and leakage by the military; and chemicals that are put into food\, whose long-range effects on human begins have not been properly tested. \nSituation:  The human race in the last century has allowed its production and scattering of wastes\, by-products\, and various chemicals to become excessive. Pollution is directly harming life on the planet: which is to say\, ruining the environment for humanity itself. We are fouling our air and water\, and living in noise and filth that no “animal” would tolerate\, while advertising and politicians try to tell us “we’ve never had it so good.” The dependence of modern governments on this kind of untruth leads to shameful mind-pollution through the mass media and much school education. \nGoal:  Clean air\, clean clear-running rivers\, the presence of Pelican and Osprey and Gray Whale in our lives; salmon and trout in our streams; unmuddied language and good dreams. \n  \nAction \n  \nSocial/Political:  Effective international legislation banning DDT and other poisons — with no fooling around. The collusion of certain scientists with the pesticide industry and agri-business that is trying to block this legislation must be brought out in the open. Strong penalties for water and air pollution by industries — “Pollution is somebody’s profit.” Phase out the internal combustion engine and fossil fuel use in general\, do more research into non-polluting energy sources such as solar energy and the tides. No more kidding the public about nuclear waste disposal: it’s impossible to do it safely. So nuclear-power generated electricity cannot be seriously planned for as it stands now. \nStop all germ and chemical warfare research and experimentation; work toward a safe disposal of the present staggering and stupid stockpiles of H-Bombs\, cobalt gunk\, germ and poison tanks and cans. Provide incentives against the wasteful use of paper\, and so on\, which adds to the solid waste of cities\, develop methods of re-cycling solid urban waste. Recycling should be the basic principle behind all waste-disposal thinking. Thus\, all bottles should be re-usable; old cans should make more cans; old newspapers should go back into newsprint again. Establish stronger controls and conduct more research on chemicals in foods. A shift toward a more varied and sensitive type of agriculture (more small scale and subsistence farming) would eliminate much of the call for blanket use of pesticides. \nThe Community:  DDT and such – don’t use them. Air pollution: use fewer cars. Cars pollute the air\, and one or two people riding lonely in a huge car is an insult to intelligence and to the Earth. Share rides\, legalize hitchhiking\, have hitchhiker waiting stations along the highways. Also — a step toward the new world – walk more; look for the best routes through beautiful countryside for long-distance walking trips: San Francisco to Los Angeles down the Coast Range\, for example. Learn how to use your own manure as fertilizer if you’re in the country\, as the far East has done for centuries. There is a way\, and it’s safe. Solid waste: boycott bulky wasteful Sunday papers which use up trees. It’s all just advertising anyway\, which is artificially inducing more energy consumption. Refuse bags at the store and bring your own. Organize park and street clean-up festivals. Don’t work in any way for or with an industry that pollutes. Don’t be drafted into the military. Don’t waste. (A monk and an old master were once walking in the mountains. They noticed a little hut upstream. The monk said\, “A wise hermit must live there” — the master said\, “That’s no wise hermit\, you see that lettuce leaf floating down the stream\, he’s a Waster.” Just then an old man came running down the hill with his beard flying and caught the floating lettuce leaf.) Carry your own jug to the winery and have it filled from the barrel. \nOur Own Heads:  Part of the trouble with talking about DDT is that the use of it is not just a practical device\, it’s almost an establishment religion. There is something in Western culture that wants to totally wipe out creepy-crawlies\, totally\, and feels repugnance for toadstools and snakes. This is fear of one’s own deepest inner-self wilderness areas\, and the answer is\, relax. Relax around bugs\, snakes\, and your own hairy dreams. Again\, we all should share our crops with a certain percentage of bug life as “paying our dues.” Thoreau says\, “How then can the harvest fail? Shall I not rejoice also at the abundance of the weeds whose seeds are the granary of the birds? It matters little comparatively whether the fields fill the farmer’s barns. The true husbandman will cease from anxiety\, as the squirrels manifest no concern whether the woods will bear chestnuts this year or not\, and finish his labor with every day\, relinquishing all claim to the produce of his fields\, and sacrificing in his mind not only his first fruits but his last fruits also.” In the realm of thought\, inner experience\, consciousness\, as in the outward realm of interconnection\, there is a difference between balanced cycle\, and the excess that cannot be handled. When the balance is right\, the mind recycles from highest illuminations to the muddied blinding anger or grabiness that sometimes seizes us all. That is the alchemical “transmutation.” \n  \nIII. CONSUMPTION \n  \nThe Condition \n  \nPosition:  Everybody that lives eats food and is food in turn. This complicated animal\, the human being\, rests on a vast and delicate pyramid of energy transformation. To grossly use more than you need to destroy is biologically unsound. Much of the production and consumption of modern society is not necessary or conducive to spiritual and cultural growth\, let alone survival; and is behind much greed and envy\, age-old causes of social and international discord. \nSituation:  Humanity’s careless use of “resources” and its total dependence on certain substances such as fossil fuels (which are being exhausted\, slowly but certainly) are having harmful effects on all the other members of the life-network. The complexity of modern technology renders whole populations vulnerable to the deadly consequences of the loss of any one key resource. Instead of independence we have over-dependence on life- giving substances such as water\, which we squander. Many species of animals and birds have become extinct in the service of fashion fads — or fertilizer — or industrial oil. The soil is being used up; in fact\, mankind has become a locust-like blight on the planet that will leave a bare cupboard for its own children — all the while in a kind of Addict’s Dream of affluence\, comfort\, eternal progress — using the great achievements of science to produce software and swill. \nGoal:  Balance\, harmony\, humility\, growth that is a mutual growth with Redwood and Quail — to be a good member of the great community of living creatures. True affluence is not needing anything. \n  \nAction \n  \nSocial/Political:  It must be demonstrated ceaselessly that a continually “growing economy” is no longer healthy\, but a cancer. And that the criminal waste which is allowed in the name of competition — especially that ultimate in wasteful needless competition\, hot wars and cold wars with “communism” (or “capitalism”) — must be halted totally with ferocious energy and decision. Economics must be seen as a small sub-branch of Ecology\, and production/distribution/consumption handled by companies or unions or cooperatives with the same elegance and spareness one sees in nature. Soil banks; open space; logging to be truly based on sustained yield (the US Forest Service is sadly now the lackey of business). Protection for all predators and varmints. “Support your right to arm bears.” Damn the International Whaling Commission which is selling out the last of our precious\, wise whales! Ban absolutely all further development of roads and concessions in National Parks and Wilderness Areas; build auto campgrounds in the least desirable areas. Initiate consumer boycotts of dishonest and unnecessary products. Establish Co-ops. Politically\, blast both “Communist” and “Capitalist” myths of progress\, and all crude notions of conquering or controlling nature. \nThe Community:  Sharing and creating. The inherent aptness of communal life — where large tools are owned jointly and used efficiently. The power of renunciation: If enough Americans refused to buy a new car for one given year it would permanently alter the American economy. Recycling clothes and equipment. Support handicrafts — gardening\, home skills\, midwifery\, herbs — all the things that can make us independent\, beautiful and whole. Learn to break the habit of acquiring unnecessary possessions\, a monkey on everybody’s back — but avoid a self-abnegating anti-joyous self-righteousness. Simplicity is light\, carefree\, neat\, and loving — not a self-punishing ascetic trip. \n(The great Chinese poet Tu Fu said\, “The ideas of a poet should be noble and simple.”) Don’t shoot a deer if you don’t know how to use all the meat and preserve that which you can’t eat\, to tan the hide and use the leather — to use it all\, with gratitude\, right down to the sinew and hooves. Simplicity and mindfulness in diet are the starting point for many people. \nOur Own Heads:  It is hard to even begin to gauge how such a complication of possessions\, the notions of “my and mine\,” stand between us and a true\, clear\, liberated way of seeing the world. To live lightly on the Earth\, to be aware and alive\, to be free of egotism\, to be in contact with plants and animals\, starts with simple\, concrete acts. The inner principle is the insight that we are interdependent energy-fields of great potential wisdom and compassion expressed in each person as a superb mind\, a handsome and complex body\, and the almost magical capacity of language. To these potentials and capacities\, “owning things” can add nothing of authenticity. “Clad in the sky\, with the Earth for a pillow.” \n  \nIV. TRANSFORMATION \n  \nThe Condition \n  \nPosition:  Everyone is the result of four forces — the conditions of this known-universe (matter/energy forms\, and ceaseless change); the biology of his or her species; individual genetic heritage; and the culture one is born into. Within this web of forces there are certain spaces and loops that allow to some persons the experience of inner freedom and illumination. The gradual exploration of some of these spaces constitutes “evolution” and\, for human cultures\, what “history” could increasingly be. We have it within our deepest powers not only to change our “selves” but to change our culture. If humans are to remain on Earth they must transform the five-millennia-long urbanizing civilization tradition into a new ecologically-sensitive\, harmony-oriented\, wild-minded scientific/spiritual culture. “Wildness is the state of complete awareness. That’s why we need it.” \nSituation:  Civilization\, which has made us so successful a species\, has overshot itself and now threatens us with its inertia. There is also some evidence that civilized life isn’t good for the human gene pool. To achieve the changes\, we must change the very foundations of our society and our minds. \nGoal:  Nothing short of total transformation will do much good. What we envision is a planet on which the human population lives harmoniously and dynamically by employing various sophisticated and unobtrusive technologies in a world environment that is ‘”left natural.” Specific points in this vision: \n  \n\nA healthy and spare population of all races\, much less in number than today.\nCultural and individual pluralism\, unified by a type of world tribal council. Division by natural and cultural boundaries rather than arbitrary political boundaries.\nA technology of communication\, education\, and quiet transportation\, land-use being sensitive to the properties of each region. Allowing\, thus\, the Bison to return to much of the high plains. Careful but intensive agriculture in the great alluvial valleys; deserts left wild for those who would live there by skill. Computer technicians who run the plant part of the year and walk along with the Elk in their migrations during the rest.\nA basic cultural outlook and social organization that inhibits power and property-seeking while encouraging exploration and challenge in things like music\, meditation\, mathematics\, mountaineering\, magic\, and all other ways of authentic being-in-the-world.\nWomen totally free and equal. A new kind of family — responsible\, but more festive and relaxed is implicit.\n\n  \nAction \n  \nSocial/Political:  It seems evident that there are throughout the world certain social and religious forces that have worked through history toward an ecologically and culturally enlightened state of affairs. Let these be encouraged: Gnostics\, hip Marxists\, Teilhard de Chardin Catholics\, Druids\, Taoists\, Biologists\, Witches\, Yogins\, Bhikkus\, Quakers\, Sufis\, Tibetans\, Zens\, Shaman\, Bushmen\, American Indians\, Polynesians\, Anarchists\, Alchemists . . . the list is long. Primitive cultures\, communal and ashram movements\, cooperative ventures. Since it doesn’t seem practical or even desirable to think that direct bloody force will achieve much\, it would be best to consider this change a continuing “revolution of consciousness” which will be won not by guns but by seizing the key images\, myths\, archetypes\, eschatologies\, and ecstasies so that life won’t seem worth living unless one’s on the side of the transforming energy. We must take over “science and technology” and release its real possibilities and powers in the service of this planet — which\, after all\, produced us and it. More concretely\, no transformation without our feet on the ground. Stewardship means\, for most of us\, find your place on the planet\, dig in\, and take responsibility from there. The tiresome but tangible work of school boards\, county supervisors\, local foresters\, local politics\, even while holding in mind the largest scale of potential change. Get a sense of workable territory. Learn about it and start acting point by point. On all levels\, from national to local\, the need to move toward steady state economy\, equilibrium\, dynamic balance\, inner growth stressed must be taught – maturity\, diversity\, climax\, creativity. \nThe Community:  New schools\, new classes\, walking in the woods and cleaning up the streets. Find psychological techniques for creating an awareness of “self” that includes the social and natural environment. “Consideration of what specific language forms — symbolic systems — and social institutions constitute obstacles to ecological awareness.” Without falling into facile interpretations of McLuhan\, we can hope to use the media. Let no one be ignorant of the facts of biology and related disciplines; bring up our children as part of the wildlife. Some communities can establish themselves in backwater rural areas and flourish — others maintain themselves in urban centers\, and the two types work together — a two-way flow of experience\, people\, money\, and home-grown vegetables. Ultimately cities may exist only as joyous tribal gatherings and fairs\, to dissolve after a few weeks. Investigating new lifestyles is our work\, as is the exploration of ways to explore our inner realms — with the known dangers of crashing that go with such. Master the archaic and the primitive as models of basic nature-related cultures — as well as the most imaginative extensions of science — and build a community where these two vectors cross. \nOur Own Heads:  Are where it starts. Knowing that we are the first human beings in history to have so much of our past cultures and previous experiences available to our study\, and being free enough of the weight of traditional cultures to seek out a larger identity – the first members of a civilized society since the early Neolithic to wish to look clearly into the eyes of the wild and see our selfhood there\, our family there. We have these advantages to set off the obvious disadvantages of being as screwed up as we are — which gives us a fair chance to penetrate some of the riddles of ourselves and the universe\, and to go beyond the idea of “human survival” or “survival of the biosphere” and to draw our strength from the realization that at the heart of things is some kind of serene and ecstatic process that is beyond qualities and beyond birth and death. “No need to survive! In the fires that destroy the universe at the end of the kalpa\, what survives?” — “The iron tree blooms in the void.”  \nKnowing that nothing need be done is the place from which we begin to move. \n  \n—Gary Snyder (Summer of 1969) \n* \n  \nHere’s a link to an audio recording of Gary Snyder reading “Four Changes”: \n  \nhttps://www.garynabhan.com/news/2020/04/four-changes-by-gary-snyder/ \n  \npeace\, love & ecology \n  \nJohnny
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-10-1-20/
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BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20200924
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20201001
DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
CREATED:20200924T173440Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20250718T120856Z
UID:1300-1600905600-1601510399@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  9/24/20
DESCRIPTION:  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nSeptember 24\, 2020 \n  \n  \nHOW HIPPIES MAY STILL SAVE THE WORLD \n  \nShortly before the Era of Social Distancing began\, my friend Bill Faricy and I were eating granola for breakfast and we got to thinking about hippies and what we have given to the world. Granola\, for one. And whole wheat bread. Brown rice. Organic food. Recycling. Yoga. Vegetarianism. Holistic medicine. Natural childbirth and breastfeeding. Nonviolence. Massage. Bright colors! Free love. Good vibes. The list got longer and longer. \n  \nThe most challenging problem that we humans face is that the way we are living is destroying the ecological health of our planet. Hippies intuited this\, and began trying to live in harmony with Mother Earth. The changes were not just on the outside\, with long hair and geodesic domes. There were deeper changes in thinking\, feeling and imagining. \n  \nIt was obvious that hippies were not going along with the status quo. The status quo is by its nature static\, and resistant to change. The hippies clothing styles were mocked\, but the peace symbol and the peace hand gesture—which are now emojis—represented something which threatened the foundation of an economy built on militarism and endless war. \n  \nThe hippies laid-back attitudes were inimical to the Protestant ethic of Hard Work\, and to the Spirit of Capitalism. Great efforts had been made and billions of dollars spent to turn citizens into Consumers and the hippies were opting out!—making their own sandals and growing their own food. At every turn the hippies weren’t going along with The Program\, and The Program was designed to create Endless Progress and Prosperity. What was wrong with them? \n  \nIt turned out that there was something wrong with the global project of turning the planet into a Theme Park for Humans. The War On Nature is one we don’t want to “win.” The hippie chanteuse sang: “They paved Paradise and put up a parking lot.” \n  \nI was born in 1951\, and I didn’t hear the word “ecology” before 1968 or ’69. Around 1970\, the year of the first Earth Day\, it became evident to anyone who was curious and who read books that there were too many people on the planet for its “carrying capacity\,” and that we were not only cutting down all the trees and catching all the fish\, but we were poisoning the world with our toxic chemicals and nuclear waste. \n  \nHippies may have invented granola\, and coined the expression “Have a nice day!\,” but most of the things on my list of contributions made by the hippies are older things that hippies revived and gave momentum to\, like yoga\, massage and good vibes. Hippies weren’t the first vegetarians. Credit Buddha and Mahavira for that\, about 500 BC\, with their doctrines of nonviolence (ahimsa). Hippies didn’t discover organic food. Before pesticides were invented\, no one ate food with poison on it. And the alarm was sounded not by hippies\, but by Rachel Carson—definitely a non-hippie scientist. But the hippies read her book Silent Spring\, which was published in 1965\, and started organizations like the Northwest Center for Alternatives to Pesticides (www.pesticide.org). \n  \nHippies started nonprofit organizations by the tens (or hundreds) of thousands. There are currently 1.5 million nonprofit corporations in the United States. I started two myself. There are an estimated 10 million non-governmental organizations (NGOs) in the world. Hippies didn’t start them all\, but hippies are part of a long tradition of nonviolent revolutionary change from the bottom up. \n  \n“Hippies” is a word like “gypsies” that can refer to all kinds of people\, all over the world. There is a caricatured picture of the long-haired\, barefoot\, stoned hippie that the mainstream media perpetuates. And surely there is a shadow side to hippie culture. I’m just giving one hippie’s perspective on positive contributions that hippies have made\, and how the Hippie Way of understanding and being-in-the-world can help us to make the transition to the Post Fossil Fuel Era as gently and beautifully as possible. \n  \nI don’t want to convert anybody to Hippieism. I became a hippie effortlessly. I looked a certain way\, dressed a certain way\, and thought and acted in certain ways\, and people pointed at me and said: “Look\, Martha\, a hippie!” I wrote an email to a woman in Lebanon in 2012 and signed it: “peace & love\, Johnny.” She knew I was a hippie. \n  \nMy hair isn’t long at present\, and I only occasionally wear a hippie-style shirt from somewhere like Nepal or Africa or Guatemala. But I think like a hippie. I believe in Peace and Love—the core hippie values. I love Mother Earth and everyone who lives here—people\, plants\, animals\, clouds\, rivers\, stones. \n  \nThis subject is too big for this kind of short essay. Here are the most important hippie ideas: \n  \nNature is Sacred \nMoney isn’t Everything; (Money and Wealth are not the same thing) \nLocal Organic Agriculture \nLocal Economics \nCommunity \nPeace & Nonviolence \nChildren raised to be free\, rather than obedient \nMeditation & Mindfulness \nLive the life you love; (Do your own thing) \nLove Everyone! \n  \nI don’t have room to elaborate on all these ideas\, but I’ll say a few more things. We can’t continue to destroy the ecological health of the planet. Short term financial profit is not a good enough reason to do it. It’s suicidal. And omnicidal.  \n  \nOne hundred years from now\, food will be grown closer to where it is eaten. And most things we need will be made locally. The ecological damage inherent in large scale industrial production is unsustainable. The current economic system is unjust and inherently unstable. That which is unsustainable can’t be sustained. \n  \nIf all children were raised in a loving\, nurturing environment\, respected as people\, allowed to realize their full human potential and follow their hearts’ desires\, our world would be transformed utterly. It’s a tall order. To do it\, adults will have to become more loving and kind. At present\, at home and around the world\, physical\, psychological and emotional abuse of children is the norm. (See For Your Own Good: Hidden Cruelty in Childrearing and the Roots of Violence by Alice Miller.) \n  \nMeditation and mindfulness\, which hippies were instrumental in helping to bring from the East to the West\, can help us to co-create a Culture That Nurtures\, a culture of Peace\, Love\, Happiness & Understanding. \n  \nWe need to aspire to love everyone unconditionally. No exceptions. No enemies. No “others.” One Human Family. It’s easy! (Much easier than what we’re doing now.) As Bob Marley sang:  \n  \nOne love! \nOne heart! \n  \nI’ll close this issue of peace\, love\, happiness & understanding with some Good Vibes: \n  \nLove’s In Need Of Love Today \n  \n(Spoken.) “When you say that you kill in the \nName of God or in the name of Allah\, \nYou are truly cursing God\, for that is not of God. \nWhen you say that you hate in the name of God or Allah\, \nYou are lying to God\, for that is not of our Father. \nLet us pray that we see the light.” \n  \nGood morn or evening friends \nHere’s your friendly announcer \nI have serious news to pass on to everybody \nWhat I’m about to say \nCould mean the world’s disaster \nCould change your joy and laughter to tears and pain \n  \nIt’s that \nLove’s in need of love today \nDon’t delay \nSend your’s in right away \nHate’s goin’ round \nBreaking many hearts \nStop it please \nBefore it’s gone too far \n  \n—Stevie Wonder \n(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=paZEqzrrO-4) \n* \n  \nWhat the World Needs Now \n  \nWhat the world needs now is love\, sweet love \nIt’s the only thing that there’s just too little of \nWhat the world needs now is love\, sweet love \nNo\, not just for some\, but for everyone \n  \n—Burt Bacharach  \n(sung by Dionne Warwick: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FfHAs9cdTqg)  \n* \n  \nAll You Need Is Love \n  \nLove\, love\, love \nLove\, love\, love \nLove\, love\, love \n  \nThere’s nothing you can do that can’t be done \nNothing you can sing that can’t be sung \nNothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game \nIt’s easy \n  \nNothing you can make that can’t be made \nNo one you can save that can’t be saved \nNothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time \nIt’s easy \n  \n[chorus]  All you need is love \nAll you need is love \nAll you need is love\, love \nLove is all you need \n  \n[repeat]  Love\, love\, love… \n  \n[chorus] \n  \nNothing you can know that isn’t known \nNothing you can see that isn’t shown \nNowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be \nIt’s easy \n  \nAll you need is love \nAll you need is love \nAll you need is love\, love \nLove is all you need \n  \n—John Lennon \n(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_7xMfIp-irg) \n* \n  \nGet Together \n  \nLove is but a song we sing\nFear’s the way we die\nYou can make the mountains ring\nOr make the angels cry\nThough the bird is on the wing\nAnd you may not know why \n[Chorus]  Come on people now\nSmile on your brother\nEverybody get together\nTry to love one another right now \nSome may come and some may go\nWe will surely pass\nWhen the one that left us here\nReturns for us at last\nWe are but a moment’s sunlight\nFading in the grass \n[Chorus] \n  \nIf you hear the song I sing \nYou will understand (listen!) \nYou hold the key to love and fear \nAll in your trembling hand \nJust one key unlocks them both \nIt’s there at your command \n  \n[Chorus]  Come on people now \nSmile on your brother \nEverybody get together \nTry to love one another right now \n  \n—Chet Powers (recorded by The Kingston Trio and by The Youngbloods) \n(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=deW7_D5qems) \n* \n  \nAnd a hippie classic: \n  \nSan Francisco \n  \nIf you’re going to San Francisco \nBe sure to wear some flowers in your hair \nIf you’re going to San Francisco \nYou’re gonna meet some gentle people there \n  \nFor those who come to San Francisco \nSummertime will be a love-in there \nIn the streets of San Francisco \nGentle people with flowers in their hair \n  \nAll across the nation  \nSuch a strange vibration \nPeople in motion \n  \nThere’s a whole generation  \nWith a new explanation \nPeople in motion \nPeople in motion \n  \nFor those who come to San Francisco \nBe sure to wear some flowers in your hair \nIf you come to San Francisco \nSummertime will be a love-in there \n  \n—written by John Phillips of the Mamas and the Papas (performed Scott McKenzie) \n(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7I0vkKy504U) \n  \n  \npeace & love \nJohnny
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-9-24-20/
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DTSTART;TZID=America/Los_Angeles:20200920T150000
DTEND;TZID=America/Los_Angeles:20200920T170000
DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
CREATED:20210317T173526Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20210318T174422Z
UID:1869-1600614000-1600621200@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:Bibliophiles Unanimous!: PRISON THEATRE Book Tour with Ashley Lucas
DESCRIPTION:On Sunday\, September 20th\, we hosted a virtual book for Prison Theatre and the Global Crisis of Incarceration by Ashley Lucas. We had a good turnout on Zoom–Ashley was in Michigan\, Howard in New York\, Al and Nick in Seattle\, lots of friends in Portland and Carlos from Peru! Prison Theatre was published by Methuen Drama on September 3\, 2020. An interview with Ashley is featured in the September 3rd issue of the peace\, love\, happiness & understanding journal.  \n  \nThe fourth Shakespeare in Prisons Conference is highlighting Ashley’s book. Here are some links: \n  \nAshley being interviewed about her Prison Theatre book: \nhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=76dfvyk_bB0&t=6s \nAshley talking with returned citizens who have performed in plays in prison: \nhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=28mGM-3t30g \nConversation between Ashley and prison theatre directors. (Note. I’m in this one (JS)): \nhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vGYQEqUIUdQ \n 
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/bibliophiles-unanimous-prison-theatre-book-tour-with-ashley-lucas/
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BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20200917
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20200924
DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
CREATED:20200917T234643Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20250718T120733Z
UID:1284-1600300800-1600905599@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  9/17/20
DESCRIPTION:The Platters \n  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nSeptember 17\, 2020 \n  \nIt’s smoky. For the past week\, Portland has had the worst air quality of any major city on the planet. And there’s a lot of competition! But\, for now\, our air is worse than the air in Delhi\, India or Shanghai\, China. Nancy and I have been joking about meeting in smoky places\, like in the song by the Corsairs (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EGDvR-7ughY). And then\, of course\, there’s the Platters’ hit: “Smoke Gets In Your Eyes” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H2di83WAOhU). And we can’t forget Smokey Robinson (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mv9cWgkpIZ4). My friend Nick Eldredge is a fan of Smokey Stover. Notary sojack. \n  \nAaron Gilbert wrote that he has been fighting fires. Kim Stafford sent me an email on Monday: \n  \nThis morning early\, reading about inmates on the fire lines\, it came to this. \n  \n                     Inmate Fights Fire  \n  \nWhen it gets really bad\, they want me out—out there \non that fire-line\, sweating sparks\, staring down flames \nI look up to as I dig like some fiend. Dollar an hour \nto be a crispy critter to save somebody’s home. Yeah\, they \nfigure the same jinx of brave and stupid got me convicted \nmight make me right to stand my ground for fire.  \n  \nLike these boots? Like this hickory handle I flick \nback and forth so my shovel slashes dirt\, leaves \nno food fire can eat? I like leaning back to see \nthat red sun staring through these skeleton trees \nlike bars in my cellblock window. And the wind \nbrings me smoke for free. Free?  \n  \nWhen my sentence ends\, you think I’ll walk free? \nYou think they’ll look at me to say\, “He’s good”? \nThey plot their own fire-line to keep me on the dark side. \nGot it? Like my face tattoo says “Bad Man. Don’t Hire.” \nYou can walk out the prison gate\, but try walking through \nthe reputation wall to freedom after they call you felon.  \n  \nI served my time. Serious good behavior. And after? \nGive me a chance. Or shall I say\, I’ve been burned. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nPart of that poem reminded me of Randall Brown’s song “One Second Chance.” I met Randall in the Arts In Prison group at Columbia River Correctional Institution. At one point in his life he was living in Nashville and earning his living writing songs. Just as Kim adopted a persona for his poem\, Randall\, who never imagined he would actually go to prison\, wrote a song about a guy who has just gotten out of prison. Here are the lyrics: \n  \nIt says here you’re from Houston \nAnd you’re certified to drive a truck \nBut it doesn’t say what you’ve been doin’ \nFor the last five years \nThen he watched his eyes keep readin’ \nThen he watched his eyes look up \nAnd he watched another job he needed just disappear \n  \n‘Cause when they get to the line \nHave you been convicted of a crime \nThey say thanks for comin’ and they don’t call you back \nI ain’t askin’ for every job under the sun \nI just want one \nSecond chance \n  \nOn August 22nd  \nLittle Jacob’s turnin’ nine \nBut his momma moved him \nA half a state away \nI left another message \nOn her phone at home last night \nAnd she finally had her lawyer \nCall today \n  \nShe knows he can’t afford  \nTo take this thing to court \nAnd I’m tryin’ hard to make her understand \nI’m not askin’ for every weekend of every month \nI just want one \nSecond chance \n  \nI was young and I was stupid \nI regret it everyday \nI ain’t saying I didn’t do it \nBut I’ve paid for my mistakes \nIt’s a lost and empty feeling when they don’t want you around \nI’ve finally got my freedom but what good is it now \n  \nThere’s some day’s when it feels like it’s been a 100 years \nSometimes it seems like only yesterday \nWe were painting Jacob’s nursery \nCounting days until he was here \nNext thing I knew I’d thrown it all away \nNow I know I can’t go back \nTo the life I used to have \nWhen I still held the whole world in my hands \nI had a job I had a wife I had a son \nNow I just want one \nSecond chance \n  \n—Randall Brown \n* \nRandall says:  \n  \nI’ve been out almost 2 years. My current job is foreman for a construction company. I’ve just accepted a position as an operations manager for a commercial construction company in Portland.  \nWhen I got out I was nervous because of the stigma we get as inmates. But my reentry to society went great. I was able to find work within a few days. I did get divorced while in\, but I’ve found a woman who accepts me for me and not my past.  \n* \n  \nThinking about smoke and fires\, I naturally thought of Gary Snyder’s “Smokey the Bear Sutra”: \n  \nSMOKEY THE BEAR SUTRA \n  \nOnce in the Jurassic about 150 million years ago\, the Great Sun Buddha in this corner of the Infinite Void gave a discourse to all the assembled elements and energies: to the standing beings\, the walking beings\, the flying beings\, and the sitting beings–even the grasses\, to the number of thirteen billion\, each one born from a seed\, assembled there: a Discourse concerning Enlightenment on the planet Earth. \n“In some future time\, there will be a continent called America. It will have great centers of power called such as Pyramid Lake\, Walden Pond\, Mt. Rainier\, Big Sur\, Everglades\, and so forth; and powerful nerves and channels such as Columbia River\, Mississippi River\, and Grand Canyon. The human race in that era will get into troubles all over its head\, and practically wreck everything in spite of its own strong intelligent Buddha-nature.” \n“The twisting strata of the great mountains and the pulsings of volcanoes are my love burning deep in the earth. My obstinate compassion is schist and basalt and granite\, to be mountains\, to bring down the rain. In that future American Era I shall enter a new form; to cure the world of loveless knowledge that seeks with blind hunger: and mindless rage eating food that will not fill it.” \nAnd he showed himself in his true form of \nSMOKEY THE BEAR \n     A handsome smokey-colored brown bear standing on his hind legs\, showing that he is aroused and watchful. \n     Bearing in his right paw the Shovel that digs to the truth beneath appearances; cuts the roots of useless attachments\, and flings damp sand on the fires of greed and war; \n     His left paw in the mudra of Comradely Display–indicating that all creatures have the full right to live to their limits and that of deer\, rabbits\, chipmunks\, snakes\, dandelions\, and lizards all grow in the realm of the Dharma; \n     Wearing the blue work overalls symbolic of slaves and laborers\, the countless men oppressed by a civilization that claims to save but often destroys; \n     Wearing the broad-brimmed hat of the west\, symbolic of the forces that guard the wilderness\, which is the Natural State of the Dharma and the true path of man on Earth: all true paths lead through mountains— \n     With a halo of smoke and flame behind\, the forest fires of the kali-yuga\, fires caused by the stupidity of those who think things can be gained and lost whereas in truth all is contained vast and free in the Blue Sky and Green Earth of One Mind; \n     Round-bellied to show his kind nature and that the great earth has food enough for everyone who loves her and trusts her; \n     Trampling underfoot wasteful freeways and needless suburbs\, smashing the worms of capitalism and totalitarianism; \n     Indicating the task: his followers\, becoming free of cars\, houses\, canned foods\, universities\, and shoes\, master the Three Mysteries of their own Body\, Speech\, and Mind; and fearlessly chop down the rotten trees and prune out the sick limbs of this country America and then burn the leftover trash. \nWrathful but calm. Austere but Comic. Smokey the Bear will Illuminate those who would help him; but for those who would hinder or slander him… \nHE WILL PUT THEM OUT. \nThus his great Mantra: \n     Namah samanta vajranam chanda maharoshana  \n     Sphataya hum traka ham mam \n     “I DEDICATE MYSELF TO THE UNIVERSAL DIAMOND  \n     BE THIS RAGING FURY DESTROYED” \nAnd he will protect those who love the woods and rivers\, Gods and animals\, hobos and madmen\, prisoners and sick people\, musicians\, playful women\, and hopeful children: \nAnd if anyone is threatened by advertising\, air pollution\, television\, or the police\, they should chant SMOKEY THE BEAR’S WAR SPELL: \nDROWN THEIR BUTTS \nCRUSH THEIR BUTTS \nDROWN THEIR BUTTS \nCRUSH THEIR BUTTS \nAnd SMOKEY THE BEAR will surely appear to put the enemy out with his vajra-shovel. \nNow those who recite this Sutra and then try to put it in practice will accumulate merit as countless as the sands of Arizona and Nevada. \n  \nWill help save the planet Earth from total oil slick. \nWill enter the age of harmony of man and nature. \nWill win the tender love and caresses of men\, women\, and beasts. \nWill always have ripened blackberries to eat and a sunny spot under a pine tree to sit at. \n  \nAND IN THE END WILL WIN HIGHEST PERFECT ENLIGHTENMENT \nthus we have heard. \n  \n(may be reproduced free forever)  \n  \n—Gary Snyder \n* \nThat reminds me of a joke… \n  \nWhat do Alexander the Great and Smokey the Bear have in common? \nSame middle name. \n  \nAnd now it’s time to sing along to the Smokey the Bear Song with Eddy Arnold: \n  \nhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Myz93sXW66Y \n  \npeace & love \n  \n—Johnny
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-9-17-20/
END:VEVENT
BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20200915
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20201015
DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
CREATED:20200915T225612Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20211130T020006Z
UID:1274-1600128000-1602719999@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue
DESCRIPTION:Open Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue \n  \nSeptember 15\, 2020 \n  \nWelcome to our first meditation and mindfulness dialogue! The numbers below refer to passages from the book Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh. (JS) \n  \n#159  A Healing Mantra \nAlthough I myself am locked within walls & a structure of rules\, the cosmos still sustains me and it still nourishes me. I am isolated yet I feel no alienation from the world. I cannot touch a tree or a cloud\, but yet I still feel them. I know they are there for me just outside the walls. For now\, my friends & my family are the light of the sun\, and the door of my heart is filled with love\, light & sun from theirs. Being stripped to the simplest form of oneself will allow you to be filled full of all the beauty that the cosmos has to offer. Empty yourself to be filled with the wonders of life. \n—Rocky Hutchinson \n* \n#49 – What is a leaf? \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. \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! \nPeace Love Happiness \n—Jake Green \n* \nOriginally\, I had no intention of sharing this\, as it was written by inspiration to myself as though it were a summation of what I see as the core of my soul\, for lack of better words\, and also like a mantra and daily meditation. Here it is: \n  \nI am the good man. \nI am the good decisions that I make. \nI am compassion\, I do not fake. \nI am kindness\, I am love. \nI am by choice\, not by chance. \nI am intent\, not happenstance. \nI am in servitude of good. \nI am alive and I am living. \nI am grateful I am. \n  \n—Joseph Opyd \n* \n#6  Concentration \nConcentration is an interesting concept in prison—Why should I want to concentrate on my situation being what it is? But as I’ve grown spiritually\, I’ve come to realize how useful concentration can be.  \nThere is a lot to complain about in life\, but there is also a lot to enjoy! Concentration\, or focusing on what I think as I’m thinking it\, and what I feel as I’m feeling it\, has taught me that my life is richer if I concentrate on the “good” and the “bad”—accepting both for what they are and their role in my life. The passage in the book (#6) talks of the power of concentration in creating happiness at any time. I do think this is important\, however the more useful aspect of concentration for me is being able to be fully—(or as close as I can come for now)—aware of the situations that I find myself in\, and what ripples I make in that environment. Concentration\, or mindfulness\, has also helped me embrace the “bad” parts of life. By being mindful of the roots of my reactions and feelings when a “bad” thing happens I have learned to cope\, embrace and/or overcome these situations\, while gaining a little more skill in mindfulness. \nMy point is that by being mindful I have learned that there is value in all situations. While I suffer I learn\, while I’m happy I learn. Mindfulness is our tool to dig through the layers of our minds and be really truly in the moment\, allowing us to remove reaction and embrace each event for what it is truly worth\, “good\,” or “bad.” \n—Cody Dalton \n* \nI find myself\, my soul\, my beliefs and my being saturated in belonging—belonging to a love so deep\, so real\, so unreal. Coming from a life of nothing and going to a life full of love I never knew I could be a part of. A love that I knew was there\, there for others\, but for me…well\, it was only window shopping. \nNow I long to be drenched in the core of my soul\, always and forever drowning in this love\, this love that has pierced my cosmic veil. This love for all\, for beauty\, for the ones who opened so many doors into and onto the mind\, heart and truth that dwells within my being. \n  \n#191  Love is Understanding \nWhen we do not understand things we fear them. There was a time for myself\, and not too long ago\, when I was fearful of myself. Fearful of who I used to be\, and fearful of the things I had done. Fearful of what I was capable of. I did not fully understand myself\, because I was hiding from myself. When I opened up and allowed someone in\, someone who is truly there for me—only then did I have the strength to face myself and understand why I did what I did\, who I am\, and who I was. Only then did I find the compassion to forgive my demons\, and leave them\, and forgive myself. Love is understanding not just our own faults\, but the faults of others—loving them and loving ourselves. \n—Rocky Hutchinson \n* \n#4  Ambassador of the Cosmos \nI love Thich Nhat Hanh’s word “interbeing” and what it suggests to my imagination—the interdependence and interconnectedness of everyone and everything! In this passage he doesn’t use the word\, but he describes how when he looks deeply into a piece of bread\, he sees the sunshine\, the rain and the earth without which there would be no bread. Some people imagine that they are somehow “independent\,” but with every breath we take\, oxygen revitalizes our blood\, and we exhale carbon dioxide which nourishes the trees\, which produce oxygen… I’m glad I get to be part of this whole miraculous process that has no beginning or end. \n—Johnny Stallings \n* \nWhat is it that you really know? Not just what you have been told or what you think or have read or surmise but something that you deeply know. And how is that different from the other kind of knowing where you think it or have heard it? I think starting with what your base understanding is one of the most crucial steps in meditation. Knowing your own inner ground….and what you don’t know. Write it down. And maybe a few months or years from now you can come back to it and see if anything has changed. \n  \nWhat Do I Know? \n  \nClosing my eyes\, \na silent darkness\, \nlight \nat the edges. \nMy breath moves \nup and down\,  \nholding each moment\, \ninhalation \nthen release. \nThe human heart \nis quixotic\, \nmalleable\, \nalmost like a berry \nin the palm of my hand. \nIn my ears\, \na deeper space \nthat stretches out\, \na disappearing \nreverberation. \nWe touch nothingness. \n  \n—Deborah Buchanan\, from Layers of Sediment \n* \nWhen I invited people who don’t live in prison to be part of our new meditation and mindfulness community\, I included Jake Green’s meditations on “What is a Leaf?” Scott Teitsworth was reminded by Jake’s “sweet words” of a passage from a book he edited by his guru\, Nitya Chaitanya Yati. (JS) \nEven when you do something as simple as sip a cup of coffee or tea\, think about what you are doing. Your morning tea begins in some far-off land\, where very poor people get up at four o’clock. They crowd onto a battered bus\, then walk to the plantation where ripe leaves are waiting to cut into their fingers. Leeches climb on them to drink their blood. All day long they fill their baskets\, then they go home to a meager supper. The tea leaves are hauled to huge mills employing hundreds of people\, where they are cleaned\, dried\, and made into the kind of blend you want. Then it is put in tins or boxes\, and sent by truck down the mountains and out to the coast. The shipyard is filled with more poor laborers\, who load the tea onboard ships. Then across the ocean it comes to your port.The distributors parcel and package it and send it to your local market\, where you buy it and take it home. Thus the whole world participates in one cup of tea. If you like sugar with your tea\, there is another world of production and distribution behind that spoonful of white grains you tip into the cup. So should you not look into the numinous aspect of just a cup of tea? \nIf you become sensitive to the numinous aspect of life\, gratitude will naturally fill your whole being. Each time you put a morsel of food in your mouth or sip your tea or coffee\, you will become so grateful to the corporate life of mankind for giving you so much for so little effort. You will see nothing but the unity underlying the many forms of the world. Great will be your joy to share\, to give\, to receive. Then you won’t fight. The belligerency comes in where you see only your own personal interests—“my home\,” “my family\,” or just“my self.” The superficial form of your self interest should be subsumed in the ocean of the general interest\, and you should feel the world is your country\, your home. That humanity is your family\, filled with your brothers and sisters. \nThe Guru* wants us to really feel this: to stand united\, to find peace and become peacemakers. We have to first be peacemakers in our own lives. We bring peace to ourselves. By putting all the peaces together\, we make peace with the world.If you fragment it\, you lose it. So let us gather all the peaces together in one meaning\, in one divine thread of love and compassion and understanding. \n  \n—from That Alone: The Core of Wisdom by Nitya Chaitanya Yati pp. 140-141 \n*Narayana Guru (1856-1928). This book is a long commentary inspired by a philosophical poem by Narayana Guru\, Ātmopadeśa Shatakam. \n—Scott Teitsworth \n* \n#7   Why we suffer \nThich Nhat Hanh reminds me that all things change\, and I will suffer if I refuse this truth\, like a stone in the river trying to stop water’s journey\, I will be rolled and all my rough edges worn away. When he speaks of the river\, I remember a time we went to a back channel and wandered along in a canoe\, and I entered a kind of trance of well-being as the river flowed and sunlight splashed everything alive. When I suffer sometimes\, when I wake at night and remember my failures\, I go back to the river in my mind\, and try to see it for what it is: \n  \nCall me the scruffy hermit of willow islands. \nCall me the skipping stone eager to squander all \nfor a few joyful episodes of buoyancy. I could be \ncounting money? I could be a hero of fame? \nCall me one lost to water’s wonders\, far gone \ndown a back channel gaping at water beads \ndripping brilliant from the paddle’s blade.  \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \nI look through my study cards. Today’s contemplation is “Observation of the Mind.” Do I have solid mindfulness established\, or is my mind more of the scattered quality? To what degree are desire/lust\, anger\, and confusion present or absent in my mind? This is not about judgement; as humans\, we spend so much time with these mental qualities that we might as well use them as meditation tools. This is more like a checklist\, is a quality present or absent? The card reminds me: all mental contents arise and pass away. Can I observe that right now? Can I see that my thoughts now are different than my thoughts 10 minutes ago? Bonus points if I can train myself to have some awareness of others\, that other people also have rapidly changing mental qualities. “Your True Home” (YTH) speaks about this exercise at item 120\, “Mindfulness of the Mind.” Another exercise I can do with my mind\, and its contents\, is to ask if current thoughts are beneficial to my wellbeing and the wellbeing of those around me\, or if they detract from wellbeing. Again\, this is not about judgement or criticism\, it is about taking inventory of the mind. Flipping through YTH\, I find this in item 47. \n—Shad Alexander \n* \nSpaciousness \nIt is 4:45 am. A small glimmer of light in the eastern sky\, but a mass of stars still predominates in the dome above. My favorite time of the day: mornnight. My mind is rested and fresh\, still empty. \nI have two and a half days of precious spaciousness. My husband is away for a couple days of bike riding while I had planned to go away camping with women friends. My outing was cancelled because of high winds\, falling trees and fire danger. David said\, “Oh well\, I won’t go if you’re going to be here alone.” I said\, with a duplicitous smile\, “Oh no\, you go ahead. You don’t want to disappoint your friends by not showing up. I’ll be fine.” \nDon’t get me wrong; I love my husband\, but he should know\, after 36 years\, that I treasure these infrequent\, but cherished times of aloneness. And this one is serendipitous spaciousness. I am never lonely being alone. I am filled with empty spaciousness. The house feels bigger. It is breathing and expanding\, and I breathe and expand\, in tandem\, like singing a harmonious duet. \nDuet. Round: In my family we played duets on the piano and sang rounds. “Go to Joan Glover and tell her I love her\, and by the light of the moon I will come to her.” Repeat one bar after the first has been sung. Etc. And\, “Orléans\, Beaugency\, Notre-Dame de Cléry\, Vendôme\, Vendôme…”  Sung as a round\, it sounds like cathedral bells tolling throughout the city. We sang dozens of rounds. \nSpaciousness allows my mind to remember things like this. My mind can rest or wander; either way\, it awakens refreshed\, mindful. \n—Jude Russell \n* \nReading some passages in Your True Home\, I was again impressed with how beautifully Thich Nhat Hanh expresses complex Buddhist concepts in clear\, easy to understand language. One of these concepts that touched me this morning was #9: I Have Arrived. So much of our lives are concerned with striving–we want to learn things\, we want to get better at things\, we want to excel\, we want to create. And this striving is wonderful: it has produced our art\, science\, architecture\, literature\, airplanes\, medicine…our civilization\, the civilizations that came before us and those that will come after us. But the most important thing about life–greater than any discovery\, creation\, or attainment– is the simple fact that we are alive. When we’re in great danger\, or facing a serious illness\, we often remember that nothing is more important than protecting our precious life. But the practice of meditation is taking time to appreciate this fact without the stimulus of danger. If we open our eyes and ears we can remember how fantastic it is\, how precious\, how exciting\, how beautiful\, how crazy it is that we are here. We have arrived. We are not only alive but we can be aware of our life and we can appreciate our life. Meditation practice is taking time to appreciate this amazing fact.  \n—Howard Thoresen \n* \nI’ve tried to learn meditation a few different times and I’ve never succeeded. My self-discipline is spotty\, my posture’s always off\, and I forget the proper hand positions. My body gets uncomfortable and my brain rebels against meditating. My thoughts increase instead of quieting down. Plus\, I’m not a very Buddhist-like person\, thanks to my intemperate ways. I gave up trying to meditate years ago.   \nAfter giving up\, though\, a funny thing started happening. I noticed that my mind would sometimes quiet down on its own\, without much effort from me. When I’m outside I get absorbed by the awesome fullness of life. When I sit in my house and pay attention I feel content with my heartbeat and the peace in my local airspace. When I let my thinking and my judgements be calm the outer and inner worlds do just fine. This balance doesn’t last indefinitely; there are things to do—groceries\, e-mails\, etc. But I can return pretty easily to what Alan Watts calls “sitting quietly\, doing nothing.”  I’ll leave the meditating to the pros. I’m simply grateful for the moment\, and being part of it\, and having people to share it with. \n—Bill Faricy \n* \n78  The Wounded Child \nI was planning on writing about another part of the book\, but I read this\, this morning\, and it kind of hit me like I needed to write about this instead. \nI guess a good question is: what is the child inside of us? I suppose it is part of us\, the child that is\, just because we grow into adulthood we don’t necessarily leave that child behind—he or she comes with us. I believe children are more susceptible\, at a young age\, especially to trauma. I think a traumatic experience as a child can have more of an effect than experiencing that same trauma at an older age. \nI sometimes struggle with a lack of self worth\, and have some insecurities. I am sure most people do\, and maybe being in prison just heightens them. For instance\, sometimes I struggle to even call my family. I will convince myself that they don’t want to hear from me and they have better things to do than talking to me. \nI have recently reconnected with a girlfriend from my past. Talking to her has been great\, but when she says\, “I love you\,” in my mind I say that doesn’t make sense. I have made so many mistakes. Am I worthy of Love? I feel I have worked very hard these last fourteen years to become a better human being. I try to be kind and compassionate to others. Is that enough? I don’t have much else. What if I screw up again? I think maybe that is the child inside of me that is scared. \nI think in these moments of insecurity if we are able to recognize the source\, and why we are feeling this way\, we can begin to heal them. I realize I have done some amazing things with my time in prison. I have met some amazing people along the way that have taught me so much about life and its true meaning. I am not angry anymore and have become a very patient\, understanding person. Maybe sometimes too patient—it may take me a couple days to answer someone’s  question sometimes. I want to make sure I understand what they are asking before I answer though. Geez! I do truly believe that all humans are worthy of being loved\, so I guess that includes myself. Dang it! I know the best thing I can do for myself is continue to live a healthy clean life\, love others\, and surround myself with like-minded people—and when she answers my call\, enjoy it for all it’s worth in the here and now. My hope is that someday I will be a successful productive member of society\, and when that child inside comes calling I can reassure him that we have the tools to live a healthy life\, and everything is going to be okay. \n—Aaron Gilbert \n* \nYour True Home: It is in the now\, the breath\, the fully aware moment. I can’t add to or take away from it. And\, if I hold on to it\, I get stuck because new “now” moments have begun piling up behind this one. If I touch it\, let it go—not holding on to anything—then I can flow from one now to the next\, feeling everything.  I see a connection to Kristen’s topic of “Contentment.” When I can be content with life as it is\, instead of wasting energy with how it was\, I have one less roadblock to the “now” moment.” When I can allow my guard down\, for myself at least (if not for others)\, I can enter that moment to begin the experience as it is. Then I can breathe and allow each “now” moment to come and go as they wish. \nIn spite of all this “now” mindfulness\, “in the moment” talk is that I can’t\, (won’t or don’t)\, just let go of ego\, barriers\, worries past and present\, judgements\, etc. Well\, not for as long as I think\, or tell myself I should. I tell myself that I “want” to do this. I attend the Zen practice sessions so I can practice being more skilled at this—sometimes I even succeed at something\, which leads me back to all that I judge. (Thanks\, Jake.) I “need” to let go. Once in a while\, I do somehow\, more by happy accident than skillful action\, manage to set everything down\, breathe\, and contentedly exist. The more often I struggle with this\, the more often I manage to stumble into aware\, conscious breathing\, where thoughts come and go without my bidding\, or following another white rabbit. Someday\, I want to arrive at my True Home. \nEven this work is plagued by ego\, self-aware judgement\, criticism\, worry about the opinions of others—that I don’t somehow measure up to some arbitrary standard. (All of this is more in my head than in reality.) It all comes from awareness that I am no expert\, guru\, or skilled practitioner of mindfulness\, but find myself at the beginning. Always At The Beginning!!—just like everyone else: breathing\, just breathing\, being gentle and kind when I see I have followed another wild hare off into some dark forest and away from my thoughtful breath. \n—Michel Deforge \n* \nThis is one of my favorite guided meditations from Thich Nhat Hanh.  \nIt begins with his signature meditation on being aware of our most basic source of life. \nTake three deep breaths then breathing normally\, gently\, follow someone saying to you the following\, or say to yourself:  \n  \n“Breathing in I am aware that I am breathing in.  Breathing out I am aware of breathing out.”  \nIn\, out. . . . . in\, out . . . .  \nIn\, out. . . . . in\, out . . . .  \nIn\, out. . . . . in\, out . . . .  \n  \nBreathing in\, I see myself as a flower. \nBreathing out\, I feel fresh. \nFlower/Fresh  (say this to yourself\, for three in and out breaths) \n  \nBreathing in\, I see myself as a mountain. \nBreathing out\, I feel solid. \nMountain/Solid \n  \nBreathing in\, I see myself as a mountain lake. \nBreathing out\, I reflect things as they are. \nWater/Reflecting \n  \nBreathing in\, I see myself as the sky or space. \nBreathing out\, I feel free. \nSpace/Free. \n  \nSome of my reflections on this practice. \nOn being a flower: \nWhen I sit and see myself as a plum blossom\, I feel delicate and careful\, I want to be aware of the subtle fragrance and the fresh air. I feel still and listen for the insects and the breeze in the tree.   \nLater\, when I want to thank someone\, like my yoga teacher or a friend that brings a gift\,  I remember feeling like a flower\, and I will put my palms together and offer a “flower bud” of thanks.  \nOn being a mountain: \nMoving from feeling like something delicate to feeling solid as a mountain\, grounds me and I feel a strength\,  and a knowing  that makes me feel more steady than any fleeting emotions.  \nOn being a mountain lake: \nThe water is still\, we can reflect what is aroud us\, like trees on the shore that are inverted but without distortion.  Such a sense of calm.   \nOn being the sky : \nThe feeling of spaciousness fills me with each breath.  Beyond judgement\, I feel space in and out\, and appreciate the space we need to give one another to be fully human and unique. \nThis simple meditation moves us through an expansive experience with just four images that are familiar to us all\, because we are alive on this planet.   \nThere is a song that goes along with this meditation\, that can help tune us up.   I will find a copy with the music and send it next time if you all are interested.  \nI hope you will find some peace\,  be well.   \nA plum blossom to you\,  Katie \n(I wish I could send you some plums that are growing now on the plum tree) \n—Katie Radditz \n* \nOur dialogue begins. Thank you. We’re off to a good start!  \nToday\, on September 15th\, I’m mailing this to just under a dozen people living in prison and emailing it to just under two dozen people who aren’t. It’s a conversation. Feel free to write and email me in response to something somebody shared. That will be the basis of the next letter\, which will go out on October 15th. Also\, between now and then\, please send me your ruminations on passages from Your True Home or other poems or texts. Or just your thoughts. Or a poem. \nMay all people be happy. \nMay we live in peace and love. \n  \n—Johnny
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/meditation-mindfulness-dialogue/
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END:VEVENT
BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20200910
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20200917
DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
CREATED:20200910T203440Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20250718T120632Z
UID:1258-1599696000-1600300799@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  9/10/20
DESCRIPTION:THE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nSeptember 10\, 2020 \n  \nThe Paradise of Books \n  \nCervantes says that Don Quixote stayed up day and night reading books until he fried his brain and went completely mad. The hero of Salman Rushdie’s latest novel\, Quichotte\, has watched so much television that he can’t tell what’s real from what’s not. \nSince June 7th\, I have been hosting a Zoom gathering on Sunday afternoons at 3 pm\, Bibliophiles Unanimous! \n  \n (https://openroadpdx.com/event/bibliophiles-unanimous/). \n  \n We’ve been having a lot of fun with it. It’s not like a “regular book club\,” where each month everyone agrees to read the same book and then talk about it. I think the impetus for that kind of book group is that we all hunger for more connection with each other\, especially a shared cultural framework that is not limited to Game of Thrones and Breaking Bad. It’s why\, when we’ve just read a book or seen a movie\, we say to all our friends and to anyone who will listen: You must read this book! (Or see this movie!) \n  \nOur weekly Zoom gathering is a meandering dialogue. Topics have ranged from poetry\, to books with pictures\, to oddball books\, to books that changed the way you see and experience the world.  \n  \nOur house is filled with books. The bookshelves are filled to overflowing. I’m sitting in a nest of books. I think of many of the books and their authors as my friends. Even though I’m just sitting here\, I can easily imagine myself to be walking along the open road with Walt Whitman by my side. On my life journey\, he has taught me so many things! Like this one: “I am not contained between my hat and boots.” And: “All truths wait in all things.” And: “Seeing\, hearing\, feeling are miracles\, and each part and tag of me is a miracle.” It’s good to know these things. \n  \nThings I read are constantly changing my inner landscape. Want to see the world in a new way? Try this: \n  \nIn the Celestial Emporium of Benevolent Knowledge\, it is written that animals are divided into:  \n  \n\nthose that belong to the Emperor\,\nembalmed ones\,\nthose that are trained\,\nsuckling pigs\,\nmermaids\,\nfabulous ones\,\nstray dogs\,\nthose included in the present classification\,\nthose that tremble as if they were mad\,\ninnumerable ones\,\nthose drawn with a very fine camelhair brush\,\nothers\,\nthose that have just broken a flower vase\,\nthose that from a long way off look like flies.\n\n  \n—from Other Inquisitions\, by Jorge Luis Borges \n* \n  \nAs a young man\, Jack Kerouac’s books On the Road and The Dharma Bums gave me permission to explore the big world\, follow my heart’s desire\, and live a life relatively free of societal constraints. \n  \nAnd then there were books that furthered my exploration of the nature and meaning of my human existence. The Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramahansa Yogananda\, inspired me to become a vegetarian\, and to begin meditating in quest of samādhi—“the peace which passeth understanding.” J. Krishnamurti spoke of “freedom from the known\,” and other radical ideas. The I Ching\, Tao Te Ching\, and the poems of Han Shan were a window into the ancient Chinese ways of seeing and being. More recently\, I’ve added the Hsin Hsin Ming of Seng Ts’an to that list. Shunryu Suzuki’s Zen Mind\, Beginner’s Mind taught many hippies of my generation about Zen meditation. I’ve learned about Haiku\, Zen and Japanese Culture from R. H. Blyth. My favorite books by him are Zen in English Literature and Oriental Classics and Volume 1 of his four-volume series\, Haiku\, titled Eastern Culture. \n  \nI learned about Advaita Vedanta from the Bhagavad Gita\, Talks With Ramana Maharshi\, the Vivekachudāmani of Shankara and The Philosophy of the Upanishads by Paul Deussen. Aldous Huxley’s Perennial Philosophy shows how the world’s religions express the same fundamental truths. Joseph Campbell’s vast knowledge of world mythology also illuminates how “Elementary Ideas” are given different costumes or masks in different cultures. (I enjoy listening to talks he gave more than reading his books—they bring out his lively mind and engaging personality better.) \n  \nFor now\, I’ll mention just a few books that gave me a better understanding of the world in which we live. Woman and Nature by Susan Griffin woke me up to the centuries of oppression of women by men\, and gave me a sense of the importance of listening to women’s voices and helping to co-create a more just world. Magical Child and Evolution’s End by Joseph Chilton Pearce\, and For Your Own Good: Hidden Cruelty In Childrearing and the Roots of Violence by Alice Miller gave me unforgettable lessons in how our systematic physical\, emotional and psychological abuse of children thwarts human potential and sows seeds for every kind of violence—from suicide to genocide. In my view\, the one thing that the world needs most is more lovingkindness. \n* \n  \nSome poems came my way this week. Josh Barnes sent me this sonnet: \n  \nSonnet #1 \n  \nEach snowdrift piles higher than the last\, \nThe ground’s surface has long frozen over; \nA frigid picture—Nature’s wild past \nThat beckons the heart—taunting\, Come closer; \nBut as times change the beauty is melted\, \nLeaving a dreadful Silence in its stead\, \nFor the ones that would’ve truly felt it \nAre lying inside their graves\, long dead; \nBut beauty shed need not mean beauty lost\, \nAnd life has many a surprise in store\, \nLike rivers that spring from ‘neath the frost\, \nThen freely flow from the glaciers to pour; \nEndless the stream of life in its beauty\, \nThe circle of life doing its duty. \n  \n—Joshua Barnes \n* \n  \nDoug Marx shared some poems from his “Sheltering In Place” series. He prefaced his reading by saying that the poems are not his voice\, but the voice of a persona. He said it’s as if these poems are being dictated to him. Here’s one: \n  \nSheltering in Place #12   \n  \nThe crows are freaking out about the mask. \nWe’re not speaking.  \n  \nNow they squawk \nand flee me when they see me coming up the walk \nin my orange and yellow \ntie-dye pandemic disguise.   \n  \nI can’t blame them. \nThey can’t see what I’m hiding from \nand neither can I.  \nThey don’t know the real me anymore \nand neither do I.  \n  \nI don’t ask why\, I just don’t want to die.  \n  \nHow explain four million \nnine hundred and eighteen thousand \nfour hundred and twenty  \ndown\,  \n  \nor one hundred and sixty thousand \ntwo hundred and ninety \ngone.  \n  \nTheir world isn’t falling apart right now. \nThe spider webs are still holding.  \n  \nFlashbacks of the old life come at me \nlike phantom reds and blues  \nin the mind of a man five months blind.  \n  \nSome humans freak out about the mask too  \nand would as soon kill you as wear one.  \n  \nI can’t explain anything to them either. \nThe death look in their eyes terrifies me.  \n  \nWhen I see one coming I squawk \nand cross the street.  \n  \nWelcome to the masquerade. \nYou are on your own. \n  \n—Doug Marx \n* \n  \nDear Readers:  \n  \nPlease send me your poems and short writings\, or poems and short writings you love\, and which have inspired you\, that were written by somebody else. \nWe’ll end this issue with a poem that Nick Eldredge wrote. It hangs on his wall as a reminder… \n  \n¡Gracias! \n  \nJuanito \n  \nYARD SALE  \nsat & sun 9 to 4 \neverything I know \nmust go \nslightly used certainties \npreowned philosophies \nrefurbished realities \nbargains galore \n  \n 
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-9-10-20/
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DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20200903
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20200910
DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
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LAST-MODIFIED:20200903T165606Z
UID:1233-1599091200-1599695999@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  9/3/20
DESCRIPTION:After The Winter’s Tale at Two Rivers prison in 2014: Ashley Lucas and Jeffrey Sanders.  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \n  \nSeptember 3\, 2020 \n  \nInterview with Ashley Lucas \n  \nJohnny Stallings.  Your book Prison Theatre and the Global Crisis of Incarceration comes out today\, published by Methuen Drama. Can you tell our readers what it’s about and how you came to write it? \n  \nAshley Lucas.  I traveled to ten different countries to see as much theatre inside prisons as I could. When I started\, I thought the book might be more focused on how theatre in prisons gets made\, which is certainly something the book discusses\, but I realized when I really started talking to incarcerated people about their work that what I most wanted to know was why theatre matters to them. The vast majority of people I met in my research had little to no relationship to theatre prior to their incarceration\, yet somehow once they started doing theatre inside the walls\, it became deeply important to them. I wanted to find out what that was about. Most of these folks didn’t see themselves as training to become professional theatre makers after their release from prison. They told me stories that revealed that they were using the theatre to accomplish other things besides the staging of plays. They were building communities\, developing professional skills\, creating social change\, and maintaining hope as a way to survive the harsh world of the prison. The book endeavors to make the people that I met feel alive and present to readers who likely will never get to meet the extraordinary folks I encountered in prisons. \n  \nThe process of how I came to write the book is multifaceted. On a very practical level\, back in 2013\, Methuen Drama invited me to write a book about theatre in prisons around the world\, but in a certain sense I had begun this journey long before that invitation arrived to mark the official start of my research. My father spent twenty years in Texas prisons\, and in a sense I grew up in prison visiting rooms. I started acting in community theatre productions when I was in middle school\, just a few years before my father’s incarceration began. In that sense\, both theatre making and visiting prisons have been major cultural practices that shaped my life from adolescence. Nearly a decade into my father’s incarceration\, I was in graduate school working on my Ph.D. in theatre and ethnic studies when I decided to write an interview-based play about people who have family members in prisons. When I started performing my play Doin’ Time: Through the Visiting Glass as a one-woman show\, I started getting invited into prisons to share it with incarcerated audiences. People began introducing me to other folks who made theatre in prisons\, and that was how I came to realize that theatre was actually happening inside these facilities. My work as a scholar shifted to follow my artistic practice\, and I began to research prison theatre companies. That led me to a job at the University of Michigan\, which recruited me to teach theatre and also become the Director of the Prison Creative Arts Project (PCAP). (I’m now the Former Director and continue to teach in the program\, while the fabulous Nora Krinitsky serves as the current Director.) My work as a playwright/performer\, administrator of a prison arts program\, teacher of students who facilitate theatre workshops in prisons\, and scholar who studies such programs informs how and why I wrote this book. Fundamentally\, my experiences as the daughter of someone who served two decades in prison shapes my approach to writing this book more than anything else. \n  \nJohnny.  Before asking my next questions\, I want to mention that the Prison Creative Arts Project is the largest prison arts organization on Planet Earth. So\, my next questions… After seven years of travel and work on the book\, are you excited that it’s coming out today? Who do you hope will read it? What do you hope the book will do to them? \n  \nAshley.  I am so grateful that I was able to finish all of my research travels as planned before the advent of the global pandemic. It would have made me so sad to miss out on meeting any of the extraordinary theatre companies and artists I had the honor to meet in my journeys. I am both excited and a little overwhelmed that the book is finally coming out. At the PCAP we’re just starting new correspondence programming in lieu of the work we have always done in prisons in person. It’s very sad not to be able to be physically present with all of the people we care about inside prisons\, but the fact that we are being allowed to start this new correspondence programming gives us the ability to send books into prisons for the first time in PCAP’s thirty-year history. We’re sending all participants in our theatre workshops a copy of my book\, and I pray that the men and women who receive it will find it both a consolation and an inspiration in this terribly difficult time. It’s always really tough to be in prison\, but the pandemic adds layers of pain\, fear\, and physical torment that are not always part of an incarcerated person’s daily life. Good books have helped me through the hardest moments of my life (and are helping me now). I pray that my book can be a layer of support for people on both sides of prison walls who really need it right now. I think Prison Theatre has the potential to do this for folks because it’s full of stories of people who have used their artistic talents as mechanisms for survival in very trying circumstances.  \n  \nJohnny.  I get the impression from your book that you are also making a case to prison administrators and the general public that theatre in prison is more than just a way for prison residents to while away the time. It has value. You’ve already said that prison theatre helps to build community\, develop professional skills\, create social change\, and maintain hope. Let’s talk about love. In your travels\, in 2014\, you visited Open Hearts Open Minds’ production of Shakespeare’s Winter’s Tale  at Two Rivers prison in Umatilla\, Oregon\, and you write about that experience in your book. What happened in the Visiting Room where the play was performed? \n  \nAshley.  Yes\, I hope that the book has many audiences. I hope that prison administrators with open hearts who truly wish for the world to be a safer place rather than a more punitive one will read the book and see how much theatre programming can do to improve the lives of everyone inside the prison—the incarcerated folks and the staff—and the lives of those connected to them in the outside world (ie. their families and the general public coming to see the plays). \n  \nI am so happy that you brought up love! I find that people are terrified to talk about the concept of love in connection with prisons. There seems to be an automatic assumption that the only kind of love that can happen in prisons is sexual\, romantic\, or aggressive\, and of course\, the truth is that because people in prison are complex human beings\, just like the rest of us\, all forms of love and affection exist inside prisons. We love our friends\, our mentors\, the people who become our chosen families. A prison that recognizes the humanity of the people inside it and actually wants them to be empathetic and driven to make positive contributions to the lives of others should actually cultivate a broad range of opportunities for safe and loving relationships among people\, in much the same ways that a good school\, religious congregation\, or community organization would. The theatre is an extraordinary vehicle for emotional openness\, vulnerability\, and love. If we can’t enable one another to be vulnerable in safe ways\, then we are cultivating a culture of isolation and aggression. Since the vast majority of people in prison will live again in freedom some day\, we need to invest in their emotional wellbeing and stability. People cannot be well if they do not feel that they are loved\, admired\, and appreciated for their unique gifts and abilities. \n  \nI hope that the chapter I wrote in Prison Theatre about the Open Hearts Open Minds production of Winter’s Tale helps readers to feel in some measure the magic of that production. The acting\, costumes\, music\, and sets were all absolutely beautiful\, but the incredible joy and love that that performance brought to everyone in the room really altered the world of the prison. The visiting room where the performance was held was full of families and children. I was blessed to sit by a woman named Sharon Lemm whose son Joseph Opyd was in the cast. She had been at Two Rivers prison for the Open Hearts Open Minds production the year before\, and when she realized that a number of men in the cast had no families there to support them—indeed some no longer had contact with their families at all—she promptly adopted the entire theatre troupe and became known as Momma Sharon. Her extraordinary spirit exemplifies something larger that was happening at Two Rivers that day. All kinds of human connections were forming. Families were mixing with one another to celebrate the cast. The prison staff were engaged and even proud of the work they’d seen the incarcerated men do. Audience members like me who were until that day strangers to almost everybody in the room were welcomed with open arms—literally\, there were people hugging all over that prison visiting room! It was such a glorious evening\, a celebration of life in spite of the prison in which we found one another. That play helped break down all kinds of barriers that divide people and helped us all to see what we shared in our common humanity.    \n  \nJohnny.  One thing that keeps people away from theatre is money. Not charging admission means that more family members\, and even small children\, come to see the plays. By making the play free it is a pure gift from actors to audience. What we discovered is that\, in the case of our prison productions\, the gift was reciprocal. It means so much to the actors that family and strangers have traveled a long way\, and come inside a prison(!)\, to see them\, and to appreciate them with thunderous applause. For the volunteers with Open Hearts Open Minds programs\, volunteering in prison is not some kind of noble act of charity. It’s a profound reciprocal giving. Have you noticed something similar in your work supervising college students who go into prisons in Michigan? \n  \nAshley.  Yes\, absolutely! Many people I meet want to talk about what a great thing our program is doing for folks in prisons\, but in truth the most demonstrable growth I can see\, as someone whose worked with the program for years\, is in the college students. Most of them have never set foot in a prison prior to joining PCAP and don’t believe they have any connection to the carceral system. Then they spend a semester collaborating with incarcerated people and come to love and respect those folks in a way that reshapes their entire world view. The experience of meaningful and prolonged interaction with people who live in very different circumstances than you do expands your understanding of how things like state power\, structural inequality\, racism\, and social justice work. My students and the currently and formerly incarcerated folks with whom we work also come to see the arts as active forces that can help us to build coalitions\, address problems\, and create opportunities. Fundamentally\, my students are not going into prisons to teach or to provide social services. Our mission is to equalize power dynamics as much as the prisons will allow us to do so and approach one another as collaborators with a shared stake in the community and artistic outcomes of our projects. In this way\, we all learn and grow together. My students will often tell me that going to prison is the best part of their week\, and none of them like prisons. Being in community with other people who take you and your artistic gifts seriously is an incredible joy\, a great blessing—one that can be harder to find in the outside world where our presence in a classroom or other public space is often taken for granted. People in prison treasure their time with people from the free world\, and they remind us of what a gift it is to be truly present with others. \n  \nJohnny.  Thank you so much\, Ashley\, for taking the time to share with our readers. Congratulations on completing this vast project! It’s going to make the world a kinder place. How can people order your book?    \n  \nAshley. Thank you\, Johnny! I’m so grateful that this book project enabled me to get to know you better and to meet the extraordinary folks at Open Hearts Open Minds. I hope very much to return to visit you and the incarcerated folks with whom you work. \n  \nMy book is available from all major booksellers\, and I encourage you to support local and independent bookstores when ordering. My favorite independent bookstore is Literarity Book Shop in my hometown of El Paso\, Texas: https://www.facebook.com/LiterarityBooks/. My friend Bill Clark who owns it has my book in stock and ships anywhere in the United States. You can reach him through the store’s Facebook page or by emailing him directly to order: bclark@literarity.com. Local bookstores sustain our communities\, and they need our support! \nYou can also order directly from the publisher’s website: https://www.bloomsbury.com/us/prison-theatre-and-the-global-crisis-of-incarceration-9781472508416/. \n  \nNote to our readers:  Ashley will be doing a virtual book tour\, which includes being the special guest of The Open Road’s Bibliophiles Unanimous! Zoom gathering on Sunday\, September 20th\, at 3 pm\, Pacific Time. Here’s the link:   \n  \n https://us02web.zoom.us/j/82169567543 \n  \nI hope you’ll join us! \n  \nAnd to clarify a couple of points… I’m no longer doing theatre inside Oregon prisons. Open Hearts Open Minds is moving forward under the leadership of the amazing Carla Grant as Executive Director. To learn more about what they’re doing\, here’s a link to their website: www.openheartsopenminds.net.  \n  \nI do have a lot of prison pen pals\, and The Open Road (openroadpdx.org) has a Prison Education Project and a Meditation & Mindfulness Project for people who live in prison and for those who don’t. This “peace\, love\, happiness & understanding” journal is mailed every week to 33 friends inside prison walls and emailed to 130 friends on the outside. \n  \npeace & love \n  \n—Johnny
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-9-3-20/
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DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20200827
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20200903
DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
CREATED:20200827T164937Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20250718T120527Z
UID:1207-1598486400-1599091199@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  8/27/20
DESCRIPTION:  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \nAugust 27\, 2020 \n  \nMeditation & Mindfulness \n  \nAnd when he was demanded of the Pharisees\, when the kingdom of God should come\, he answered them and said\, The kingdom of God cometh not with observation: \nNeither shall they say\, Lo here! or\, lo there! for\, behold\, the kingdom of God is within you. \n  \n—Luke 17: 20-21\, King James Version \n* \n  \nThe Open Road is inaugurating a Meditation & Mindfulness Project for people who live in prison and for those who don’t. We aren’t promoting any religious tradition\, we just want to support and encourage each other to be more peaceful\, loving\, happy and free. It seems to me that whatever one’s religious beliefs\, and for atheists and agnostics as well\, meditation and mindfulness are a doorway to the Golden World—a feeling of perfect well-being. Everyone experiences these perfect moments. Meditation and mindfulness are ways to nurture and strengthen the feeling that our life on earth is a blessing and a miracle. Meditation and mindfulness can be enjoyed by anyone. \n* \n  \n“…Our blessedness\, like His\, is infinite. \nHis glory endless is and doth surround \nAnd fill all worlds without or end or bound. \nWhat hinders then but we in Heaven may be \nEven here on Earth did we but rightly see?” \n  \n—Thomas Traherne (1636-1674)\, from “Thoughts—IV” \n* \n  \nTo people in our society\, where working hard\, making money\, high achievement and getting things done are considered so important\, to sit still and do nothing seems like a big waste of time. \n* \n  \nGoing nowhere\, as Leonard Cohen would later emphasize for me\, isn’t about turning your back on the world; it’s about stepping away now and then so that you can see the world more clearly and love it more deeply. \n  \n—Pico Iyer\, from The Art of Stillness \n* \n  \nWalt Whitman spoke to his friend Ellen O’Connor of his ability to stop thinking at will\, and to make his brain “negative”: \n  \nThere is that in me—I do not know what it is—but I know it is in me…. \nI do not know it—it is without name—it is a word unsaid\, \nIt is not in any dictionary\, utterance\, symbol. \n  \n—Walt Whitman\, from “Song of Myself” \n* \n  \nI began practicing meditation at the age of nineteen. That was fifty years ago! I can’t imagine my life without it. I’m certain I would have suffered a LOT more.  Ninety-nine per cent of our suffering is self-inflicted. Here’s a little poem I wrote: \n  \nwhen you see how simple it is to be happy \nyou’ll kick yourself \nfor spending so much time being miserable \n  \n—Johnny Stallings\, from everything I touch \n* \n  \nNautilus Hall Press has just published three chapbooks by Deborah Buchanan: “Layers of Sediment\,” “The World A Well\,” and “Moment Before.” The covers are beautifully illustrated by Andrew Larkin. They are grouped as a set\, “Like Fluttering Silk\,” and can be ordered from Deborah by emailing her at dlbadger@gmail.com. The cost of the set is $25\, plus $5 for shipping and handling. Here’s a poem from “Layers of Sediment”: \n  \nEarly Morning Hours \n  \nFrom the house silence flows \nto the ebony lawn \nglittering like a river. \nA small candle flickers\, \nmirroring the moon \nsliding down night’s curve. \nFir branches stand against the sky\, \nthe hours’ tall sentinels\, \nand the hum inside silence \nfills each shadowed crevice\, \nthe world inundated. \n  \n—Deborah Buchanan \n* \n  \nThe word “meditation” can mean a lot of different things. It can mean sitting still with your back straight. Other things that give us a feeling of inner peace can also be ways of meditating: going for a walk\, listening to music\, or playing music\, drinking that first cup of coffee in the morning\, reading. Even thinking and talking can be done in a meditative way. \n* \n  \nAsk the world to reveal its quietude— \nnot the silence of machines when they are still\, \nbut the true quiet by which birdsongs\, \ntrees\, bellworts\, snails\, clouds\, storms \nbecome what they are\, and are nothing else. \n  \n—Wendell Berry from Given \n* \n  \nWhy meditate? One reason is: “to stay sane.” The noise inside our heads can actually drive us completely mad. Here’s what Aldous Huxley says about it: \n  \nUnrestrained and indiscriminate talk is morally evil and spiritually dangerous….If we pass in review the words we have given vent to in the course of the average day\, we shall find that the greater number of them may be classified under three main heads: words inspired by malice and uncharitableness towards our neighbours; words inspired by greed\, sensuality and self-love; words inspired by pure imbecility and uttered without rhyme or reason\, but merely for the sake of making a distracting noise.  These are idle words; and we shall find\, if we look into the matter\, that they tend to outnumber the words that are dictated by reason\, charity or necessity.  And if the unspoken words of our mind’s endless\, idiot monologue are counted\, the majority for idleness becomes\, for most of us\, overwhelmingly large. \n  \n—Aldous Huxley\, from The Perennial Philosophy \n* \n  \nWhat is mindfulness? Thich Nhat Hanh says: \n  \nMindfulness is when you are truly there\, mind and body together. You breathe in and out mindfully\, you bring your mind back to your body\, and you are there. When your mind is there with your body\, you are established in the present moment. Then you can recognize the many conditions of happiness that are in you and around you\, and happiness just comes naturally. \n  \n—Thich Nhat Hanh\, from Your True Home\, #218 \n  \nHe’s fond of saying: “The present moment is a wonderful moment.” \n* \nKim Stafford sent this: \n  \nFinding Deep Calm \n  \nI have a Palestinian friend named Gheed living in Gaza City\, where life is hard and much of each day is spent trying to be safe. Most days\, power is only on for four hours\, and then darkness. Food is hard to come by. There is often danger in the streets. \nI know how in prison\, some are put in “segregation\,” in solitary. But in Gaza\, the whole country is in segregation\, surrounded by walls\, razor wire\, under frequent attack. \nBut my friend Gheed seeks beauty\, anyway. She takes photographs of her cup of coffee…of a flower…of light at the window. And she sent this message to the world\, in Arabic: \n  \nعظيمٌ هذا الهدوء العميق الذي أحيا فيه وأنمو ضدّ هذا العالم، هدوءٌ أحصدُ فيهِ ما ليس في استطاعةِ أحدٍ أنْ ينتزعه مني، ولو بقوة الحديد والنار ..” \n— غوتة \n  \nI was able to find a translation\, and it turns out she has been reading Goethe\, a writer in Germany in the early 19th century. This is what she has translated into Arabic from Goethe: \n  \nGreat is this deep calm in which I live and grow against this world\, a calm in which I reap what no one can take away from me\, even by the power of iron and fire. \n– Goethe \n  \nI love to think of my friend in the danger and difficulty of Gaza finding deep calm. And I love to think that this calm can be sought by anyone anywhere. It is our right to feel this. And it is possible. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nPeople who live in prison who want to participate in the Open Road Meditation and Mindfulness Project can write to me at this address: \n  \nJohnny Stallings \nThe Open Road \nPMB 268 \n4110 SE Hawthorne Blvd. \nPortland\, OR  97214 \n  \nPeople who don’t live in prison\, who want to be part of our merry band of mindful meditators can email me at stallingsjohnny@gmail.com\, or contact me through the Open Road website (openroadpdx.org). \n* \n  \nMeditation and mindfulness can be very simple. Hafiz says: \n  \nAnd at times\, when we really need to know \nsomething about perfection \n  \nthe movement of your breath might do\, or the \nbeating of our hearts. \n  \n—Hafiz  (1320-1389)\, version by Daniel Ladinsky \n* \n  \nSeng Ts’an says: \n  \nwhen the mind is still \nall views disappear \n  \nand \n  \nempty\, clear\, your light shines \nwithout mental effort \n  \n–Sent Ts’an (529-606 A.d.)
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-8-27-20/
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BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20200820
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20200827
DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
CREATED:20200820T184655Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20200820T185436Z
UID:1155-1597881600-1598486399@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  8/20/20
DESCRIPTION:Sal Dale as Hermia\, Steve Jamison as Lysander\, Allen Mills (hidden) as Puck\, Bradley Foote as Oberon\, Zeb Harrington as Demetrius and Aaron Gilbert as Helena in the 2010 production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream at Two Rivers prison in Umatilla\, Oregon. \n  \n  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nAugust 20\, 2020 \n  \nKim Stafford and I were talking about those moments when life feels perfect. He had written a poem that morning\, which he read to me and then sent in an email: \n         \n          Practical Illusions  \n  \nWhen I lose track of time\, I feel free \nfor a little while. And when I feel free\,  \nI can tackle the impossible. I can break \na miracle down to a series of steps\, \nso magic begins to enter\, beauty intrudes\, \nthen I’m in thrall to curiosity and wonder\,  \nfriendship with the future returns\, and all \nmy regrets fill a basket of quirky souvenirs.  \n  \nI’ve lived in exile from joy\, daunted by \nmortality\, taking what they call a realistic view \nby counting up my hours and days of failure. \nThere’s no shortage there\, and I’m expert \non musing\, dwelling\, brooding on my losses. \nBut then the turning comes as I lean close in \nto creation\, something out of nothing. It begins  \nwith surrender to anything I love to do. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nLast year\, about this time\, I wrote this poem: \n  \nKim Stafford\, Ace Reporter \n  \nhe carries a tiny notebook around with him \never on the alert \nlooking\, listening \nwords are spoken\, inspiration strikes\, events unfold \nhe takes out his little notebook\, jots things down \nhe’s collecting all the latest news \nlater\, he will file his next report— \nWhat’s Going On Here On Planet Earth \n  \n–Johnny Stallings \n* \n  \nKatie responded to Aaron Gilbert’s letter in last week’s issue of “peace\, love\, happiness & understanding”: \n  \nThis is fantastic\, Johnny. It’s amazing for me to read what Aaron wrote about his blossoming. So articulate and open and still on his quest to love and forgive. It takes me back to my own blossoming that came from seeing A Midsummer Night’s Dream in prison. Like in Shakespeare’s time the men had to play all the roles\, of course. Incredible to see them though. In a fantastic costume from the Portland Opera\, here came Aaron playing Helena in all her loveliness. I happened to be sitting next to his mom\, who had traveled hundreds of miles to see the play and was proud and astonished and happy to be there. Along with the rest of us\, she got to see Aaron transformed through this role he had mastered. It made me realize the power of literary art and embodying a character in a play. We were all uplifted and transported into some other possible realm. The prison walls even became precious for providing such a container and program for learning and listening and trusting one another enough to produce such a work of art together. The best part was the post-play reflection\, hearing the men talk about their experience through the whole process—the accomplishment of reading\, memorizing\, acting\, actually getting to touch another person\, coordinating the action. But most of all loving each other and being loved by each other and by their director and costumer. It was heartbreaking to see the men leave by one door back to their cells. We walked out the gates\, moved by tears and laughter\, transformed\, as they were\, and dedicated to returning again and again\, till they too walk out as free men. I’m grateful to you\, Johnny\, for imagining and following your heart to create such an experience for us all.  \n  \n—Katie Radditz \n* \n  \nOn my birthday\, or around New Year’s Day\, I often read through my journal for the previous year to remind myself of things that happened. This morning I was doing that and found something that ties into what Aaron wrote for last week’s issue and to Katie’s response. I had copied a letter to Howard Thoresen into my journal. Here’s what I wrote to him: \n  \nseptember 8\, 2019 \n  \n¡howardito! \n  \nnancy is with her mom this weekend\, so i went out to two rivers by myself yesterday \ni brought up the subject of julius caesar and the men talked about how awesome it was and how good it is to have a way to form strong bonds of friendship \nthen i told them that october 5th will be my last day facilitating the dialogue group \ncarl alsup (brutus) told me what a big impact i have had on the lives of many men there \nthen stuart morton (cassius) got the bright idea that we should go around the circle and everyone should say something to me \n(this is a thing we’ve done a few times \ni got the idea from jack kornfield \nthe chosen person listens while everyone says what they most admire\, etc.\, about him \ni think it can be a kind of medicine for people who are suffering from feelings of worthlessness\, et cetera) \nanyhow\, they really gave me the full treatment \nwhen you were here you said that you can’t take a compliment \ni don’t know\, but i think 40 minutes of something like this would overcome your resistance and do something to you \njust thinking about the experience is making me cry \nit seems that my ability to see their innate goodness and beauty has helped many of the men to see it in themselves and in others \nto feel loved and to love \nfor many of the men\, and for me\, this represents a profound change in the way we experience our human life on earth \nit’s a gift we have given to each other \nwell\, that’s about it for now \n  \njake merriman is coming over shortly \nthe men report that during the final performance he cried through the whole play \nwhich gladdens my heart \n  \npeace\, love & happiness \njuanito \n* \n  \nWalt Whitman said: \n  \nThis minute that comes to me over the past decillions\, \nThere is no better than it and now. \n* \n  \nI have a hunch that when Kim began writing the poem “Practical Illusions” he didn’t know how it would end. He begins with the freedom he feels when he loses track of time\, then\, like a beachcomber\, he picks things up and examines them\, and ends by speaking of surrendering to anything he loves to do. One of the things he loves to do is write poems. He gets pleasure from taking us on this journey and we get pleasure from accompanying him. Walt Whitman asks:  \n  \nWho wishes to walk with me? \n  \nThe end of the poem calls to my mind the idea of following your heart’s desire. When an opportunity arises to give free advice to young people\, that’s what I say: “Follow your heart’s desire.” When I was young\, my dad said to me with great seriousness\, as if imparting important wisdom: “John\, sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do.” I didn’t say anything to him at the time\, but I remember thinking: “Not me! That’s not how I’m gonna live my life.” I never came up with a plan of what I want to do with my life. Like a hummingbird\, I just go from one flower to the next. Today is my 69th birthday. I’m eating a red pear from our red pear tree. I’m the happiest man on earth. \n  \nThomas Traherne (1636-1674) said this about a defect in his university education: \n  \n“There was never a tutor that did professly teach Felicity\, though that be the mistress of all other sciences.” \n  \n(Thomas Traherne\, from Centuries of Meditations\, Third Century\, number 37) \n* \n  \nMay all people be happy. \nMay we live in peace & love. \n  \n—Johnny
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-8-20-20/
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END:VEVENT
BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20200813
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20200820
DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
CREATED:20200813T161044Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20200813T162907Z
UID:1125-1597276800-1597881599@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  8/13/20
DESCRIPTION:Aaron Gilbert as Sir Toby Belch in Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night (Two Rivers prison\, 2011) \n  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nMy mind started to blossom… \n  \nAugust 13\, 2020 \n  \nRecently I suggested to Aaron Gilbert that he might write about what he’s learned about love while in prison. This is what he wrote: \n  \nJuly 26\, 2020 \nDear Johnny \n  \n….I have been contemplating on expanding on my ideas from my last letter and what I have learned about Love while in prison. Wow! There is just so much to it. I think of one thing\, then it expands into so many different ideas. I will just try to keep it simple and hit the points that have truly meant the most. \n  \nBefore I came to prison\, I had a very narrow view of what love was. When you get to a place like this\, you have two choices\, you can either cling to positive things in your life or go down a very dark lonely path. I asked myself how did this happen\, how did I get here? The answer was quite simple\, it was because I didn’t care about anyone or anything\, including myself. Through self-reflection\, I started to try to figure out: why? Then I met Johnny. \n  \nI was very skeptical at first about what this man was all about. I just wanted to be in the play\, but first we had to sit through this “dialogue group.” We would\, or they would\, talk about these foreign topics: Mythos\, Identity\, Silence\, Love\, etc. I just wanted it to be over so we could get on with rehearsals. I don’t know how long it took\, but I remember exactly when it happened for me. I began to hear other people speak and the biggest thing I heard was the silence. Someone would have something to say and I remember wondering what Johnny was doing when he got that look on his face\, then it hit me at once\, he was LISTENING! I began to realize that he was truly caring for us just by listening to us. My mind started to blossom\, I started to see the things I had been contemplating about love become something real. He volunteered a huge portion of his life to come and listen to us when most of the rest of society had written us off. This is one of the most pure forms of love I have ever felt and I wanted more. \n  \nFor the first time in my life\, I became engaged with people around me. At the end of class\, Johnny would say “be kind to yourself.” I started to work on self-forgiveness and ask for forgiveness from the people I hurt. This love was transforming my life and I started to feel like a person of value. \n  \nThe question then became: is it truly possible to love everyone? It is very complicated and I have a lot of work to do in this category\, but I believe the answer is “yes\, it is possible.” I have been in prison for almost fourteen years now\, I have many friends that have committed the worst possible crimes\, and they will never go home. When you know these guys without that stigma over their head\, you realize that they are human as well\, with the same basic needs as the rest of us\, to love\, to be loved and have companionship with others. You realize they are no less human than anyone else is\, even though society wants us to think otherwise. These “lifers” are some of the most respectful caring people I have met in my life\, not only on the inside. Most of these guys are doing good things for others\, trying to make their environment a healthier place to live. \n  \nThis is where I struggle because there are many people I don’t know that I may still be holding judgment against. I believe Love says if you forgive one person’s transgressions\, you should be able to forgive them all. As I said\, Love is a work in progress. \n  \nI have learned most everything I know about love from being in prison. It doesn’t seem right\, but it is true. Mostly because one man was able to help my mind flower and start to soak in all the light of Love. The best part about it is I am not the only person he touched. I know of many more in the few short years I was part of Group Dialogue. I can’t imagine how many others have felt some of that love as well. I was reading The Heart of Buddha’s Teaching by Thich Nhat Hanh recently\, and something that stood out\, I am just paraphrasing\, but he was saying of love “we can’t expect to fit people into our own little world about what we feel love is. We should truly try to understand them for who they are\, even if they have wronged us we should try to understand why.” Imagine if we can all just take a little piece of that compassion\, understanding\, and listening and spread it\, it has to make the world a better place\, right? \n  \nMaybe next time I can expand a little more on the journey of life and what it means to me. This is just the most important thing I could say today. I do want to thank Johnny for you just being you. This world needs people like you in it now more than ever I believe. I know the impact you have had on me and many others has forever transformed us into better humans\, so thank you for all that love…. \n  \nLove & Respect \nAaron G. \n* \n  \nAaron was in the dialogue group at Two Rivers prison from April of 2010 to May of 2013\, when he transferred to the Oregon State Penitentiary. He’s serving the end of his sentence at South Fork Forest Camp. While at Two Rivers\, he played Helena in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream\,” Sir Toby Belch in “Twelfth Night” and Juror Number Six in “Twelve Angry Men.” In real life he’s a nice guy\, but as a juror he wanted to convict the defendant quickly so he could go to a baseball game! (Just kidding\, Aaron.) \n  \nIt is kind of Aaron to say so many nice things about be.  I\, too\, learned a lot about love in prison. One thing I learned is that the circle is a good shape for us humans. Everyone has an equal place in a circle. That’s important. In 2015\, when I started going to Two Rivers once a month\, instead of once a week\, other people came forward to facilitate the dialogue group discussions and to direct the plays. I think we all have had a similar experience to what Aaron is talking about. Being in a circle with 16 or 20 people\, sometimes talking\, always listening\, is a transformative experience. We get to know each other in a deep way and we get to know ourselves better too. I don’t know where the love comes from\, but we all have felt it getting stronger and stronger. This world can be seen as a School for Love. When it is\, even prison is a home for The Nonstop Love-In. As Aaron says\, we all have the same basic needs: “…to love\, to be loved and have companionship with others.” \n  \nKim taught a poetry class at Coffee Creek prison. And wrote a poem about it: \n  \n  Poetry Class     \n     at the Women’s Prison \n  \nPut chairs in a circle. “Where \nis everyone?” “Oh\, they’re all \nwatching ‘Love after Lock-Up.’ \nIt’s fake\, but addicting.” \n  \nOn every chair\, put a notebook \nand a pen. “You know what? \nIn this class I’m not an inmate\, \nI’m a person.” “Every time \n  \nthat door opens\, and another \njoins our circle\, we’re stronger.” \n“It’s not so much what we write — \nit’s how we listen.” Finally\, the show \n  \nover\, the room resonant\, \nwe are the full twelve writing \nin a ring\, as onto scribbled pages \nwe bow to pray hard stories. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nHere’s a poem that Katie Radditz shared: \n  \nA Blessing \n  \nJust off the highway to Rochester\, Minnesota\, \nTwilight bounds softly forth on the grass. \nAnd the eyes of those two Indian ponies \nDarken with kindness. \nThey have come gladly out of the willows \nTo welcome my friend and me. \nWe step over the barbed wire into the pasture \nWhere they have been grazing all day\, alone. \nThey ripple tensely\, they can hardly contain their happiness \nThat we have come. \nThey bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other. \nThere is no loneliness like theirs. \nAt home once more\, \nThey begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness. \nI would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms\, \nFor she has walked over to me \nAnd nuzzled my left hand. \nShe is black and white\, \nHer mane falls wild on her forehead\, \nAnd the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear \nThat is delicate as the skin over a girl’s wrist. \nSuddenly I realize \nThat if I stepped out of my body I would break \nInto blossom. \n  \n—James Wright
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-8-13-20/
ATTACH;FMTTYPE=image/jpeg:https://openroadpdx.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/08/0-2-2-2-1.jpeg
END:VEVENT
BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20200806
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20200813
DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
CREATED:20200806T155641Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20250718T120354Z
UID:1101-1596672000-1597276799@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  8/6/20
DESCRIPTION:  \n  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nAugust 6\, 2020 \n  \nSome Thoughts On Culture That Nurtures \n  \nAll human beings live inside cultures. Our language\, our customs\, the things we make\, the way we interact\, the stories we tell all help to co-create our culture. Our culture is supposed to help us understand ourselves and the complex\, mysterious world in which we live. Culture is supposed to nurture us—help us to be confident\, happy\, imaginative\, loving and kind. It should nurture our genius\, help us to realize our fullest potential. Each of us is unique and has much to give to others which no one else can. \n  \nIf we turn on the TV\, we may find that many of the messages we get from the programs and from the commercials are unhelpful. They don’t make us wiser or kinder\, happier or more free. They can make us more fearful and angry and depressed. We are taught who we should hate. \n  \nThere are old and new stories about Paradise. It either happened a long time ago\, or may happen sometime in the future. I try each day to tune myself to the Paradise that is already here. In this newsletter\, I’m looking for things that will inspire\, delight\, enlighten\, or in some way help the reader to bless this day. \n  \nSometimes we need consolation: \n  \nConsolation \n  \nDarwin. \nThey say he read novels to relax\, \nBut only certain kinds: \nnothing that ended unhappily. \nIf anything like that turned up\, \nenraged\, he flung the book into the fire. \n  \nTrue or not\, \nI’m ready to believe it. \n  \nScanning in his mind so many times and places\, \nhe’d had enough of dying species\, \nthe triumphs of the strong over the weak\, \nthe endless struggles to survive\, \nall doomed sooner or later. \nHe’d earned the right to happy endings\, \nat least in fiction \nwith its diminutions. \n  \nHence the indispensable \nsilver lining\, \nthe lovers reunited\, the families reconciled\, \nthe doubts dispelled\, fidelity rewarded\, \nfortunes regained\, treasures uncovered\, \nstiff-necked neighbors mending their ways\, \ngood names restored\, greed daunted\, \nold maids married off to worthy parsons\, \ntroublemakers banished to other hemispheres\, \nforgers of documents tossed down the stairs\, \nseducers scurrying to the altar\, \norphans sheltered\, widows comforted\, \npride humbled\, wounds healed over\, \nprodigal sons summoned home\, \ncups of sorrow thrown into the ocean\, \nhankies drenched with tears of reconciliation\, \ngeneral merriment and celebration\, \nand the dog Fido\, \ngone astray in the first chapter\, \nturns up barking gladly \nin the last. \n  \n—Wisłowa Szymborska \n* \n  \nI like happy endings. If I get into a conversation with friends where we talk about how terrible things are or how bleak the future looks I always try to end our talk on a positive note. Hopelessness and despair accomplish nothing—except to make us feel miserable. Life is short. This day is precious. I want to enjoy it. \n  \nKirk Bromley shared this poem with Howard Thoresen\, who sends it to all of us: \n  \nThe Tuft of Flowers \n  \nI went to turn the grass once after one \nWho mowed it in the dew before the sun. \n  \nThe dew was gone that made his blade so keen \nBefore I came to view the levelled scene. \n  \nI looked for him behind an isle of trees; \nI listened for his whetstone on the breeze. \n  \nBut he had gone his way\, the grass all mown\, \nAnd I must be\, as he had been\,—alone\, \n  \n‘As all must be\,’ I said within my heart\, \n‘Whether they work together or apart.’ \n  \nBut as I said it\, swift there passed me by \nOn noiseless wing a ‘wildered butterfly\, \n  \nSeeking with memories grown dim o’er night \nSome resting flower of yesterday’s delight. \n  \nAnd once I marked his flight go round and round\, \nAs where some flower lay withering on the ground. \n  \nAnd then he flew as far as eye could see\, \nAnd then on tremulous wing came back to me. \n  \nI thought of questions that have no reply\, \nAnd would have turned to toss the grass to dry; \n  \nBut he turned first\, and led my eye to look \nAt a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook\, \n  \nA leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared \nBeside a reedy brook the scythe had bared. \n  \nI left my place to know them by their name\, \nFinding them butterfly weed when I came. \n  \nThe mower in the dew had loved them thus\, \nBy leaving them to flourish\, not for us\, \n  \nNor yet to draw one thought of ours to him. \nBut from sheer morning gladness at the brim. \n  \nThe butterfly and I had lit upon\, \nNevertheless\, a message from the dawn\, \n  \nThat made me hear the wakening birds around\, \nAnd hear his long scythe whispering to the ground\, \n  \nAnd feel a spirit kindred to my own; \nSo that henceforth I worked no more alone; \n  \nBut glad with him\, I worked as with his aid\, \nAnd weary\, sought at noon with him the shade; \n  \nAnd dreaming\, as it were\, held brotherly speech \nWith one whose thought I had not hoped to reach. \n  \n‘Men work together\,’ I told him from the heart\, \n‘Whether they work together or apart.’ \n  \n—Robert Frost \n* \n  \nHere’s a poem Kim Stafford sent our way: \n  \n      The Fact of Forgiveness  \n  \nIt is a given you have failed. \nIt goes without saying you were hurt          \n      and so you hurt some others. \nOf course you alone could have saved someone          \n      or something you did not. \nThe midnight court of the sleepless mind          \n      has reached its verdict: Life Sentence. \nLife will be long and hard\, but also mysterious          \n      in how you are condemned to live           \n      by beauty all the same. \nThrough the bars of your cell\, you must watch           \n      the moon grow full and generous. \nA tune made for others will arrive at evening\,          \n      smuggled into your mind as if for you. \nThe world can’t keep its treasures from you—          \n      no matter how little you deserve\,         \n      you have it all: \nMoon\, Sun\, Sleep\, Waking\, Water\, Air—         \n      a bird dancing away out of sight          \n      leaving the print of its flight          \n      and a filament of song           \n      for you. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nKim’s poem reminded me of this passage from Shakespeare: \n  \nHamlet:  What have you\, my good friends\, deserved at the hands of Fortune that she sends you to prison hither? \nGuildenstern:  Prison\, my lord? \nHamlet:  Denmark’s a prison. \nRosencrantz:  Then is the world one. \nHamlet:  A goodly one\, in which there are many confines\, wards and dungeons.  Denmark being one o’ th’ worst. \nRosencrantz:  We think not so\, my lord. \nHamlet:  Why then\, ‘tis none to you\, for there is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.  To me it is a prison. \nRosencrantz:  Why then your own ambition makes it one; ‘tis too narrow for your mind. \nHamlet:  O God\, I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space— were it not that I have bad dreams. \n  \nThat’s it for now. \n  \nMay all people be happy. \nMay we live in love. \n  \n–Johnny
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-8-6-2/
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BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20200730
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20200806
DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
CREATED:20200730T170704Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20250718T120243Z
UID:1075-1596067200-1596671999@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  7/30/20
DESCRIPTION:Cartoon by Gary Larson \n  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nOh no! Not another Humor Issue! \n  \nJuly 30\, 2020 \n  \nA three-legged dog walks into a bar and says: “I’m lookin for the man who shot my paw.” \n  \nWhy did the hipster burn his mouth? \nHe drank his coffee before it was cool. \n  \nI told my wife she was drawing her eyebrows too high. \nShe looked at me surprised. \n  \nI got my daughter a fridge for her birthday. \nI can’t wait to see her face light up when she opens it. \n  \nWhat did the pirate say when he became an octogenarian? \nAye matey. \n  \nA sandwich walks into a bar. The bartender says\, “Sorry\, we don’t serve food here.” \n  \nWhy did the yogurt go to the art exhibition? \nBecause it was cultured. \n  \nHow do you throw a space party? \nYou planet. \n  \nWhat did one hat say to the other? \nYou stay here. I’ll go on ahead. \n  \nA horse walks into a bar. The bartender asks what he’d like. The horse doesn’t reply because it’s a horse and obviously can’t speak or understand English. Several people get up and leave\, sensing the danger in having a large live animal in an enclosed space. \n* \nA young boy enters a barber shop and the barber whispers to his customer\, “This is the dumbest kid in the world. Watch while I prove it to you.” \nThe barber puts a dollar bill in one hand and two quarters in the other\, then calls the boy over and asks\, “Which do you want\, son?” The boy takes the quarters and leaves. \n“What did I tell you?” said the barber. “That kid never learns!” \nLater\, when the customer leaves\, he sees the same young boy coming out of the ice cream parlor. “Hey\, son! May I ask you a question? Why did you take the quarters instead of the dollar bill?” \nThe boy licked his cone and replied: “Because the day I take the dollar the game is over!” \n* \nAn American businessman was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellowfin tuna. The American complimented the fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them. The fisherman replied that it only took a little while. The American then asked why didn’t he stay out longer and catch more fish. The fisherman said he had enough to support his family’s immediate needs. \nThe businessman then asked\, “But what do you do with the rest of your time?” \nThe fisherman said\, “I sleep late\, fish a little\, play with my children\, take siesta with my wife\, Maria\, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos. I have a full and busy life\, señor.” \nThe businessman scoffed. “I am a Wharton MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds\, buy a bigger boat. With the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats. Eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor\, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product\, processing and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City\, then L.A.\, and eventually New York City\, where you will run your expanding enterprise.” \nThe fisherman asked\, “But how long will this all take?” \nTo which the businessman replied\, “Fifteen or 20 years.” \n“But what then?” \nThe businessman laughed and said\, “That’s the best part. When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich. You would make millions.” \n“Millions? Then what?” \nThe businessman said\, “Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late\, fish a little\, play with your kids\, take siesta with your wife\, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your friends.” \n* \nA guy said to God\, “God\, is it true that to you a billion years is like a second?” \nGod said\, “Yes.” \nThe guy said\, “God\, is it true that to you a billion dollars is like a penny?” \nGod said\, “Yes.” \nThe guy said\, “God\, can I have a penny?” \nGod said\, “Sure\, just a second.” \n* \nA string bean took his friend\, an eggplant\, to the hospital. \nString Bean: How is he\, Doc? Can you save his life? \nDoctor: I have good news and bad news. The good news is I can save his life. The bad news is he’ll be a vegetable the rest of his life. \n* \nTwo young salmon are swimming along one day. As they do\, they are passed by a wiser\, older fish coming the other way. \nThe wiser fish greets the two as he passes\, saying\, “Morning\, boys! How’s the water?” \nThe other two continue to swim in silence for a little while\, until the first one turns to the other and asks\, “What’s water?” \n  \n—“Borrowed” from the Internet and joke books by Johnny Stallings \n* \nOne day the first grade teacher was reading the story of Chicken Little to her class. She came to the part of the story where Chicken Little tried to warn the farmer.  \nShe read\, “…. and so Chicken Little went up to the farmer and said\, “The sky is falling\, the sky is falling!” \nThe teacher paused\, then asked the class\, “And what do you think that farmer said?” \nOne little girl raised her hand and said\, “I think he said: ‘I’ll be darned! A talking chicken!’” \n—Will Weigler \n* \n  \nFor an extra bit of fun you might try this video of people singing and dancing on top of a train in India. (I’ve ridden in this train\, but not on it.): \n  \nhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PQmrmVs10X8 \n  \nMay all people be happy! \n  \nJohnny
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-7-30/
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BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20200723
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20200730
DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
CREATED:20200723T041150Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20200723T041525Z
UID:1053-1595462400-1596067199@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  7/23/20
DESCRIPTION:THE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nJuly 23\, 2020 \n  \n“The world is a Dancer; it is a Rosary; it is a Torrent; it is a Boat; a Mist; a Spider’s Snare: it is what you will; and the metaphor will hold\, and it will give the imagination keen pleasure.  Swifter than light the world converts itself into the thing you name\, and all things find their right place under this new and capricious classification.  Must I call the heaven and the earth a maypole and country fair with booths\, or an anthill\, or an old coat\, in order to give you the shock of pleasure which the imagination loves and the sense of spiritual greatness?  Call it a blossom\, a rod\, a wreath of parsley\, a tamarisk-crown\, a cock\, a sparrow\, the ear instantly hears and the spirit leaps to the trope.”   \n  \n(The Journals of Ralph Waldo Emerson\, edited by Linscott\, pp. 197-198\, (1841)) \n* \n  \nBattle or Picnic? \n  \nLife has often been described as a battle. Perhaps the most famous example is the Bhagavad Gita. Just as a great battle is about to begin\, the warrior-prince Arjuna asks his charioteer and guru\, the god Krishna\, to drive their chariot between the two armies. Time stops. Filled with pity\, and unwilling to kill his kinsmen who are on the opposing side\, Arjuna refuses to fight. Krishna urges Arjuna to do his duty\, to stand up and fight like a man. He teaches Arjuna that the highest liberation comes from the realization that one’s self is the unborn and undying Self of all—not other than God. Arjuna decides to join the fight\, the battle begins\, and everyone on both sides is slaughtered. \n  \nThe Bhagavad Gita is a complex wisdom text which is located in the middle of a story about war. It is essentially about yoga and how to live a life of inner peace and freedom\, but the plot of the epic in which it is set requires Arjuna to fight in the war. So\, a central metaphor suggests that life is a battle\, and the honorable thing is to boldly do what is required of you. \n  \nWe are often reminded that life is a struggle or a battle. Darwin’s idea of the survival of the fittest is used to support this idea. Our economic system is predicated on the idea of a fierce competition which many people will inevitably lose. Too bad for them. \n  \nI like the Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh. In one of his talks at a meditation retreat\, he began by saying: “Some people think that a meditation retreat is a kind of picnic…” When someone is an expert in a field\, he usually warns newcomers that such expertise requires years of discipline and hard work. So\, I was expecting Thich Nhat Hanh to continue by saying\, “…but it’s not.” He surprised me by next saying: “I love picnics!” And I thought to myself: “I love picnics\, too! Everyone loves picnics! Picnics are lovely!” \n  \nAnd it occurred to me that rather than thinking of life as a struggle\, as some kind of ordeal\, as a battle to be fought\, I would think of my life as a picnic. Why not? As we learn from Ralph Waldo Emerson’s entertaining journal entry that I am using as the epigram for this essay\, we can say anything we want. I have the feeling that life is everything-at-once. But I can’t imagine everything-at-once. So\, for now\, I’m going with “picnic.” \n  \nIt’s a picnic to which everyone is invited. A gathering. A feast. Little kids are running around. Maybe there’s a softball game. There’s potato salad. Sandwiches. Lemonade. There might be pie. Ants. At a picnic\, everyone has the feeling that life is good. \n  \nSince we’re here just a little while\, doesn’t that sound good? As a metaphor\, isn’t it preferable to a scene of chaos\, confusion and carnage? \n  \nIn the UNESCO Constitution\, signed in November of 1945\, it says: “…wars begin in the minds of men…” We should choose our metaphors wisely. \n  \n—Johnny Stallings  (11/14/19) \n* \n  \nNaomi Shihab Nye really goes to town with metaphors in this poem: \n  \nSifter \n  \nWhen our English teacher gave \nour first writing assignment of the year\, \nBecome a kitchen implement \nin 2 descriptive paragraphs\, I did not think \nbutcher knife or frying pan\, \nI thought immediately \nof soft flour sifting through the little holes \nof the sifter and the sifter’s pleasing circular \nswishing sound\, and wrote it down. \nRhoda became a teaspoon\, \nRoberto a funnel\, \nJim a muffin tin \nand Forrest a soup pot. \nWe read our paragraphs out loud. \nAbby was a blender. Everyone laughed \nand acted giddy\, but the more we thought about it\, \nwe were all everything in the whole kitchen\, \ndrawers and drainers\, \nsinging teapot and grapefruit spoon \nwith serrated edges\, we were all the \nempty cup\, the tray. \nThis\, said our teacher\, is the beauty of metaphor. \nIt opens doors. \nWhat I could not know then \nwas how being a sifter \nwould help me all year long. \nWhen bad days came \nI would close my eyes and feel them passing \nthrough the tiny holes. \nWhen good days came \nI would try to contain them gently \nthe way flour remains \nin the sifter until you turn the handle. \nTime\, time. I was a sweet sifter in time \nand no one ever knew. \n  \n—Naomi Shihab Nye \n* \n  \nHoward Thoresen has often recommended to me the book Metaphors We Live By by George Lakoff and Mark Johnson.  \n  \nJeff Kuehner sent a couple poems: \n  \nThe Panther \n  \nHis vision\, from the constantly passing bars\, \nhas grown so weary that it cannot hold \nanything else. It seems to him there are \na thousand bars; and behind the bars\, no world. \n  \nAs he paces in cramped circles\, over and over\, \nthe movement of his powerful soft strides \nis like a ritual dance around a center \nin which a mighty will stands paralyzed. \n  \nOnly at times\, the curtain of the pupils \nlifts quietly—. An image enters in\, \nrushes down through the tensed\, arrested muscles\, \nplunges into the heart and is gone. \n  \n—Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926)\, translated from the German by Stephen Mitchell \n* \n  \nThere Will Come Soft Rains \n  \n(War Time) \n  \nThere will come soft rains and the smell of the ground\, \nAnd swallows circling with their shimmering sound; \n  \nAnd frogs in the pools singing at night\, \nAnd wild plum trees in tremulous white\, \n  \nRobins will wear their feathery fire \nWhistling their whims on a low fence-wire; \n  \nAnd not one will know of the war\, not one \nWill care at last when it is done. \n  \nNot one would mind\, neither bird nor tree \nIf mankind perished utterly; \n  \nAnd Spring herself\, when she woke at dawn\, \nWould scarcely know that we were gone. \n  \n—Sara Teasdale (1884-1933) \n* \n  \nHere’s a link to a short (12 minutes) film on “Sacred Economics” featuring Charles Eisenstein: \n  \nhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EEZkQv25uEs \n  \nThat’s it for this issue of “peace\, love\, happiness & understanding.” Tune in next week for another exciting episode. \n  \n—Johnny Stallings
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-7-23-20/
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BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20200716
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20200723
DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
CREATED:20200716T171508Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20200717T003510Z
UID:1038-1594857600-1595462399@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  7/16/20
DESCRIPTION:Three amigos bringing in the New Year at Alma del Sol in Guanajuato\, Mexico: Johnny Stallings\, Hugo Anaya & Kim Stafford. \n  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nJuly 16\, 2020 \n  \nI asked Kim Stafford if he would write something for our newsletter about his experience as Poet Laureate. Like the generous writer and human being described in his essay\, he said “Yes.” \n* \n  \nTo Be a Better Person \nMy 100 poetry events as Oregon’s 9th Poet Laureate \n  \nWhen I met the Poet Laureate of Linn-Benton Community College I learned what my work as a poet is really about. This student poet\, chosen by his teachers to serve as a writer and reader of poems at various campus events for a year\, was telling me about his work teaching writing at the juvenile detention center as a volunteer\, sharing poems with fellow students\, opening meetings with a poem\, and other acts of generous incantation. Then he said it: “I don’t write poems to become a better poet. I write poems to become a better person.” \n  \nThat’s it! That’s what poetry is for—the writing of it\, the reading of it\, teaching\, sharing\, posting\, publishing\, handing off to a friend in need of lyric buoyancy. It’s not just a literary activity. It’s a human activity\, a way to become more awake\, more human\, humane\, compassionate\, alive\, and connected. \n  \nI wish I could remember that student’s name\, but I will never forget what he taught me. And maybe something like that will be the legacy of my own work as wandering bard in Oregon. Years after I’m gone\, people in little towns will say\, “This guy came and told us the great thing about poetry is you can’t make money doing it—so you are completely free in how you do it. I can’t remember his name\, but he said a poem could save your life. He said a poem could make you live at a deeper level\, closer to community\, more ready to take hard things in life as they come\, and to help others with gentle words.” \n  \nAs Oregon’s 9th Poet Laureate from May 2018 through May 2020\, I was a sitting duck\, but a willing one. There was an “event request form” on the website of the Oregon Cultural Trust\, and it took about five minutes for anyone—a librarian\, teacher\, writer\, reader\, or other individual—to fill out the form\, it would come to me\, and I could not say no. Would I drive to the Alvord Desert to read poems as part of an open air piano concert (with Hunter Noack of www.inalandscape.org)? Yes! Would I drive to Klamath Falls to read poems…to Gold Beach…to Astoria…to Madras\, Stayton\, Astoria\, the Umatilla Reservation at Tamástslikt Cultural Center? Oh yes. Would I write with veterans for the V.A. Hospital? Would I work with inmates at Coffee Creek Women’s Prison\, Columbia River Correctional Institution\, at the Two Rivers Correctional Institution? Yes\, of course. Would I do an assembly for 120 primary students…for seventeen immigrants becoming citizens…for the Oregon House of Representatives…for a winery\, a business association\, a city council? Absolutely. Would I meet with one young writer full of fury and eloquence to help her onto the path of poetry? Yes. \n  \nThe job was a two-year rush of such encounters where all kinds of people wrote all kinds of things\, and I traveled to meet with them and together raise the human spirit.  \n  \nNow that the torch has been passed to a new Oregon Poet Laureate\, Anis Mojgani (his event-request form is here: https://culturaltrust.org/oregon-poet-laureate/calendar/)\, I still feel I have the calling of poet as servant of the people. Since my official term ended in May\, I’ve taught a class online in Scotland\, done a radio interview with a station in Newport\, put poetry prompts and other writer resources on my website (www.kimstaffordpoet.com)\, given several poetry readings online\, and hatched public service projects with other artists for individuals and families sheltering at home. \n  \nIn a way\, the job of a poet laureate is the same as the job of any writer: Something came to my page that I would love to share with you. It’s about discovery\, generosity\, and connection: \n  \nDew & Honey \nSip by sip in thimble cup \nthe meadow bees will drink it up \nthen ferry home to bounty’s hive \nby flowers’ flavor hum and thrive \nto show us how through word and song \nby gesture small and patience long \nin spite of our old foolish ways \nwe may fashion better days. \n  \nSo\, my friend\, come sip and savor \nsyllables as crumbs of pleasure. \nBy sunrise\, in our conversations\, \nwe begin a better nation. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \nBefore visiting our dialogue group at Two Rivers prison\, Kim wrote this poem and brought it with him as a gift for the men in the group: \n  \nTwo Rivers \n  \nOne river flows above ground— \neveryone can see it shining \nacross the land\, following the valley \nand shaping the valley\, never at rest. \n  \nAnd some people say\, I know who \nyou are…I know what you’ve done… \nwhat you lost…where you came from… \nwhere you are going. I know. \n  \nBut what do they know of you\, really? \nFor another river flows below all that\, \ninvisible\, at the speed of a dream \ninside you—intuitive\, curious\, innocent. \n  \nAnd you say\, I know who I want to be… \nI know what I’ve learned…I know what I love… \nI need to know who I really am. So you remember\, \nyou wonder\, you write\, you shape story\, \n  \nand you say to yourself on the page\, \nHidden river\, spill your secrets \nat the wellspring. I hold forth \nmy cup no one else can see. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nThe ending of his poem reminds me of this brief quote from Sylvia Plath: \n  \nSo many people are shut up tight inside themselves like boxes\, yet they would open up\, unfolding quite wonderfully if only you were interested in them. \n  \n—Sylvia Plath \n* \n  \nIn the spirit of Kim’s essay\, here’s some life advice from Walt Whitman: \n  \nThis is what you shall do; Love the earth and sun and the animals\, despise riches\, give alms to every one that asks\, stand up for the stupid and crazy\, devote your income and labor to others\, hate tyrants\, argue not concerning God\, have patience and indulgence toward the people\, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men\, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families\, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life\, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book\, dismiss whatever insults your own soul\, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body. \n  \nfrom the preface to the 1855 edition of Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman \n* \n  \nRecently\, I was listening to a talk Cornel West gave at the University of Oregon on April 26\, 2019 called “What It Means to Be Human.” It’s always a joy to be enlivened by his lively mind! Here’s a link:  \n  \nhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aekb3ppKm5w&t=480s \n  \nI was talking with Kim about “the poet’s job.”  A short time later he sent me some of his aphorisms on the subject. Here they are: \n  \nIt is the poet’s job to turn fact into food\, loss into learning\, and pain into song.  \n  \nThe poet’s work is to be the Eric Snowden of the inner life: All shall be revealed. \n  \nAll a writer can do is compose clues to what can never be spoken\, footnotes to the inexpressible. \n  \nA poet’s remedy for myriad troubles: Cook up a feast of words\, and see what you learn. \n  \nLike a bird lifting from a twig\, the poet steps away from all freight. Even as you plod the road\, your soul is in flight. \n  \nA poet’s work is to compose a filmed parade of images with a sound track of percussive words. \n  \nPoetry is the moonlight of the interior life—waxing and waning\, causing the soul to flood and ebb. \n  \nEveryone should compose their own text for the tee shirt they wear along the summer avenue—so we could be known by what we are willing to say. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nAnd he sent some quotes from other poets: \n  \nThe poet’s job is to put into words those feelings we all have that are so deep\, so important\, and yet so difficult to name\, to tell the truth in such a beautiful way\, that people cannot live without it. \n  \n—Jane Kenyon \n* \n  \nPoetry isn’t a profession\, it’s a way of life. It’s an empty basket; you put your life into it and make something out of that. \n  \n—Mary Oliver \n* \n  \nWant to take workshop from Kim? Go to his website\, click on workshops\, and sign up for one. Here’s the link: \n  \nwww.kimstaffordpoet.com \n* \n  \nI recently read Susan Griffin’s long essay “The Eros of Everyday Life” again. I read it with the kind of pleasure I’ve been getting from standing in the backyard in the summer sun\, picking blackberries\, putting them into my mouth one at a time and crushing them between my tongue and the top of my mouth. Here’s a quote: \n  \nEverything I encounter permeates me\, washes in and out\, leaving a tracery\, placing me in that beautiful paradox of being by which I am both a solitary creature and everyone\, everything. \n  \n—Susan Griffin \n* \nThat’s it for now\, y’all. Until next time… \n  \n—Johnny
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-7-16-20/
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BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20200709
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20200716
DTSTAMP:20260425T190123
CREATED:20200708T173254Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20200708T173510Z
UID:1016-1594252800-1594857599@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  7/9/20
DESCRIPTION:THE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nJuly 9\, 2020 \n  \nlove is a place \n& through this place of \nlove move \n(with brightness of peace) \nall places \n  \nyes is a world \n& in this world of \nyes live \n(skilfully curled) \nall worlds \n  \n—e.e. cummings \n* \n  \nCan I see another’s woe\, \nAnd not be in sorrow too? \nCan I see another’s grief\, \nAnd not seek for kind relief? \n  \nCan I see a falling tear\, \nAnd not feel my sorrow’s share? \nCan a father see his child \nWeep\, nor be with sorrow filled? \n  \nCan a mother sit and hear \nAn infant groan\, an infant fear? \nNo\, no! never can it be! \nNever\, never can it be!… \n  \n—from “On Another’s Sorrow” by William Blake \n* \n  \nLonnie Glinksi\, who was in our dialogue and theater groups at Two Rivers prison—(he played Ophelia in our 2015 production of “Hamlet”)—sent me a letter on June 4th. With his permission\, I’m sharing a slightly edited version: \n  \nDear Johnny \n  \nIn recent days I have suffered a loss of a dear man who has moved on. He turned 91 last month. With a few adaptations he loved to play ping pong\, though spending most of the day in a wheelchair. \nHe is an artist that draws wonderful pictures. He spent much energy writing poems\, telling stories of his life\, and trying to write songs\, but he never quite got the hang of that. \nWe would argue over topics\, would fight over the songs. We would laugh at each other for no reason at all. And while he was here\, he was the person I could talk to about topics and feelings of which I now write. \nWith the recent Supreme Court decision regarding unanimous verdicts\, it appears he will be going home or for re-trial. No one will tell me where he moved on to; I only know he is not here. \nWhile that spark of joy for him remains alive in my heart\, the waves of grief that wash through my body repeatedly attempt to drown out that joy. The experience of having the spark and the grief of his leaving at the same time is new for me. \nI had a pen-pal through the U.U. outreach by that I could write to about such things\, but he came down with cancer. He promised to write if he could\, but has not written. The grief of that loss is different than the current one. \nAlthough uncomfortable\, I am not attempting to make it go away. Instead I just watch it\, feel it\, know it is there. Repeatedly\, it washes through me like a wave when I look at the place where he used to sit. \nLee was hard of hearing and had to see your lips for conversations. Since he couldn’t hear himself he spoke really loudly\, irritating those without that challenge. Now I expect to hear that voice while I’m in my cell\, through the multiple voices and dayroom noises\, and it isn’t there. Another wave. \nThen I feel the spark\, the joy for his experience and what he has to look forward to. So I watch this spark\, feel this spark\, and like the wave\, I leave it be. \n  \n—Lonnie Glinski \n* \n  \nI was Zooming with some friends this morning (7/3)\, and the subject came up of “All the Problems in the World”—a familiar theme in our conversations. All of us were feeling that the problems are so many and so old and so big that\, for each of us\, our efforts to make the world a better place were puny and woefully inadequate. One friend said: “Homelessness. I have a spare bedroom: I should be letting a homeless person sleep here.” And I remembered my friend Nick. Lonnie’s letter makes me think that I should do the laptop equivalent of putting pen to paper and say a few things about Nick. I’m terrible at remembering dates. How long ago was it that he died? I pulled up his obituary: \n  \nConsoletti\, Nick\, May 10\, 1947 to May 31\, 2012. Nick Consoletti\, Ph.D.\, passed away at home in Hillsboro on May 31\, 2012\, at the age of 65. Nick was a philosopher\, scholar\, musician\, brilliant conversationalist and poet\, dedicated traveler and a tremendously kind\, loving and loyal friend. Our authentic and gentle friend is greatly loved and missed. \n  \nI met Nick in the late Seventies. In a coffee shop\, of course. Most of the people who knew him probably met him in a coffee shop. This one was in the basement of an old brick building on the Portland State University campus. In addition to coffee shops\, Nick liked college campuses and libraries—places you could meet people who liked to talk about “All the Problems in the World\,” and how they could be solved. His two favorite authors were Buckminster Fuller—a man who had practical solutions for All the Problems in the World—and J. Krishnamurti\, who also had ideas about how the world could be transformed. According to him\, we just needed to be free of fear\, free of ideas of past and future\, free from authorities (inner and outer)\, free from ambition and ideologies and nationalism\, free from our opinions\, from “the known\,” from our carefully constructed autobiographies. Here’s a Krishnamurti quote: “Thought is always old; thought is never new; thought can never be free.” \n  \nBut back to Nick. He had a heavy backpack\, which included a sleeping bag\, books\, and maybe a tent. In coffee shops and on college campuses\, Nick would meet people who might offer him a couch to crash on. Over a period of 30 years or so\, Nick probably stayed with me\, on average\, one or two nights a month. He hitchhiked from one end of the country to the other\, but mostly up and down the West Coast\, from the Bay Area to Seattle\, with stops in Eugene and Portland. Once a year\, he would go all the way down to Ojai\, in Southern California for Krishnamurti’s annual talks.  \n  \nNick didn’t smoke\, drink\, take drugs or eat meat. He never asked for money\, but if given five or ten bucks\, he would quietly put it in his pocket. He played the dulcimer in coffee shops with a nearby hat for possible donations. He was a walking encyclopedia. He attended LOTS of conferences that featured cutting-edge thinkers. He wanted to hear them in person: Gregory Bateson\, David Bohm\, Erich Jantsch—it was a very long list! Whatever topic you might mention\, Nick would instantly tell you the name of an article or book that would educate you further on the subject.  \n  \nHis main interest was in “appropriate technology\,” or how we humans can live in a sustainable way on this planet\, without relentlessly destroying the health of the ecosphere. He was baffled by the fact that so much was known about how we could live more sustainably\, and yet we persist in living in ways which indicate a lack of concern for future generations. Nick would have loved Greta Thunberg! \n  \nIn the brief obituary\, you might notice that he had a Ph.D. degree and that he died at home. Nick didn’t have a “home”—his own apartment—until the last year of his life: after his kidneys failed and he had to stay in one place for his twice-weekly dialysis treatments.  \n  \nInspired by David Bohm’s ideas about dialogue\, Nick—without money and without a home—earned his doctorate by facilitating a dialogue group and writing a dissertation about it. After he got his degree\, he applied to some colleges\, but was never offered a job. He continued to be an exemplary Coffee Shop Philosopher right up until the end. When I decided to “do something” at Two Rivers prison in 2006\, maybe it was Nick’s example that inspired me to start a dialogue group\, rather than “teach a class.” I learned a lot from Nick. I miss him. \n  \n—Johnny Stallings
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-7-9-20/
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