The Open Road: a learning community

COLLISION REPAIR: Jake Scharbach at Froelick Gallery
2020-12-03 - 2021-01-30
Sisyphus, Titian 1548, painting by Jake Scharbach, oil on canvas, 60″ x 48″

Dear Friends of the Open Road

Nancy’s nephew, Jake Scharbach, has a show at the Froelick Gallery from December 1, 2020 – January 30, 2012.
Here’s a link to the exhibit:

https://privateviews.artlogic.net/2/1cdd977e49691fb0c6d57e/

If 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.

Here is a link to a conversation with Jake about his art:

https://youtu.be/cbVVcRRxU2A

peace & love
Johnny

Hsin Hsin Ming by Seng Ts'an
2020-12-01 - 2020-12-14
hsin hsin ming
by seng ts’an

the great way is not difficult
it has no preferences

when love and hate are absent
all becomes clear

make the smallest distinction
and heaven and earth are far apart

if you want to experience it
don’t be for or against anything

conflict between liking and not liking
is the disease of the mind

if its deep meaning is not understood
we strive in vain to quiet the mind

it is perfect like vast space
nothing lacking, nothing left over

accepting and rejecting
we can’t see the essence

don’t get entangled in outer things
or abide in inner emptiness

when the mind is still
all views disappear

trying to quiet the mind
is just more activity

caught in duality
how can you know oneness?

when unity is not understood
both activity and quietude are failures

if you deny the reality of things, all things are lost
pursue emptiness and you stray even further from it

the more talking and thinking
the farther you go from what is

stop talking and thinking
and there’s nothing you can’t understand

return to the root and find meaning
follow appearances and lose the source

look within for just a moment
and go beyond appearance and emptiness

changing appearances in this empty world
seem real due to ignorance

don’t seek truth
just let go of your views

don’t remain in duality
take care never to go that way

choosing this or that
the mind is lost in confusion

duality comes from the one
but don’t be attached to the one

when the mind is still
the ten thousand things do not offend

when things don’t affect you, they cease to exist
no thought, no mind

without an object of thought, there can be no thinking subject
without a thinker, there are no things

things are things because of the mind
the mind is the mind because of things

if you want to understand mind and world
see them as ultimately one emptiness

in this emptiness the two are one
it contains everything

don’t distinguish between coarse and refined
and you won’t be for this or against that

the great way is vast
to live in accord with it is neither easy nor hard

those with narrow views are full of doubt and fear
the more they hurry, the slower they go

clinging has no limit
we go down the wrong path

in accord with nature
nothing comes or goes

following our nature, we are in harmony with the way
wandering freely, without a care

fixed ideas can’t encompass what is true
they sink into darkness, become unhealthy

don’t trouble your mind
why shun this and desire that?

if you want to take the one vehicle
don’t reject mental or sensory experience

to accept everything
is to be enlightened

the wise man does nothing
the fool shackles himself

the dharma has no distinctions
they come from our foolish attachments

seeking the mind with the mind
isn’t that a big mistake?

illusion creates concepts like tranquil and disordered
illumination destroys liking and disliking

all pairs of opposites
are created by our ignorance

dreams, illusions, flowers in the air
why bother trying to grasp them?

profit and loss, right and wrong
get rid of them once and for all

if the eyes don’t close in sleep
all dreaming ceases naturally

if the mind makes no discriminations
the ten thousand things have one essence

understanding the mystery of one suchness
difficulties are forgotten

see all things as equal
and all will return to naturalness

no descriptions or analogies are possible
of this state where relations have come to an end

arrest motion, and motion ceases
move stillness and stillness is gone

when dualities are abolished
how can there be one?

in the end, things are ultimately
not subject to law

for the unified mind in harmony with the way
all striving ceases

all doubts are cleared up
established in right intuition

nothing remains
there’s nothing to remember

empty, clear, your light shines
without mental effort

thought can’t reach this
beyond knowing, imagining, feeling

in the realm of things as they are
there is no self or other

if you want to approach and enter it
just say “not two”

where there are not two, all is the same
there is nothing that is not included

the wise of all times and places
enter into this source

truth cannot be increased or decreased
one moment, ten thousand years

no here, no there
the whole world right before our eyes

the tiny is as large as the vast
when boundaries are gone

the vast is as small as the tiny
when there are no limits

what is, is not
what is not, is

any other view
must be abandoned

one thing is all things
all things are one thing

when you’ve understood this
there’s no need to worry about not being perfect

the stable mind is nondual
intuition and mind are not two

beyond words
no past, no future, no now

–version by johnny stallings

some notes:
The 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.
The origin of Zen Buddhism is the Buddha’s Flower Sermon. One day the Buddha held up a white flower. Mahākāśyapa realized enlightenment, and smiled.
The first Zen text comes a thousand years later.
The “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.
Translating 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.
I hope you find it helpful in your meditation and mindfulness practice.

May all people be happy.
May we live in peace & love.

–Johnny

peace, love, happiness & understanding 11/26/20
2020-11-26 - 2020-12-09
THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

November 26, 2020

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
wich is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday;this is the birth
day of life and love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any-lifted from the no
of all nothing-human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

—e. e. cummings (1894-1962)
*

Giving 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.
*

Poetry

And it was at that age … Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don’t know how or when,
no they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.

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

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

—Pablo Neruda (Chilean Nobel Prize-winning poet, 1904-1973)
*

Kim Stafford sent us an approach to a daily writing practice. And some poems.

Writing as Ritual: Four Elements of a Daily Writing Page
A chapter from a work in progress, Writing for Happiness, by Kim Stafford

Be the Eric Snowden of your inner life.

I had been writing for years, by fits and starts, when my father’s death opened a
new path for my life as a writer, and as a seeker. By his last will and testament, I
inherited the care of his twenty thousand hand-written pages of daily writing
from the 1950s through the day of his death in 1993. William Stafford’s writing
practice had been invisible to me when he was alive, because he rose before
dawn to write, and I did not. All through childhood, I would see the literary
magazines where his poems were published appear on the coffee table — Crazyhorse,
Poetry, Cimarron Review — and every year a book or two would come forth. When people
would ask him, “Bill, when is your next book coming out?” he would often answer, “Which
one?”

How did he do that? Simple: he wrote something every day, and his books
were made from about one day’s writing out of eight that he found worthy.
A few weeks after my father died, I started to carry the reams of his scribbling
down from the attic, and leaf through his pages one by one. His scrawl was a
challenge, and I sometimes needed a magnifying glass to examine the tangle of
feral words to tease the meaning forth. But overall, I began to see four elements
in his practice that worked together in a way both practical and mystical.

I want to consider what my father’s daily writing pages contained, and how
they worked for him — and how something like his approach might work for any
of us who choose to give such daily writing practice a try. His pages, which are
now housed in the William Stafford Archives at Lewis & Clark College, exhibit a
varying daily mixture of four prevailing elements:

1. 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.”

2. 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.

3. 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.

The 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.

4. 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.

To 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.

William 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.

Most 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.

My 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.

This 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:

the visible
the invisible
the secret
the deeply secret

So 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.

As 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.

Based 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?

—Kim Stafford
*

While 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…

My Sheltering Sky

When I was born, when I was helpless, there were stars
Above me blue in their midnight galaxy.
When I was hurt, there were scars no one could see.
When I was growing, the sun was dimmed for me
By killing silence where there should have been a song.

Did you hear a song when you were young,
A chorus that sang your name with love?
How many little ways were you reminded of
Your worth, your chance, your path to rise above
Your struggles, a way to feel that you belong?

One night by the river when I couldn’t sleep
For streetlights glittering the water dark,
I looked above my troubles where I saw a spark,
Another world, a guide, a star to mark
My destination far beyond my pain.

On that shore I felt there was fatal door
I could step through into waters cold
To quench my life before I got too old
In sorrows, hard tomorrows, I could fold
My arms and plunge into the deep.

But then I looked above it all and saw
My shelter, my sky where stars were calling
And I felt that I was falling up instead of down,
And I wore some kind of crown
That gave me my ticket to the dawn.

Now I find there’s work, and worth, and wonder.
Though I know my sorrows won’t be completely gone,
Someone helped me carry on and find
A wealth in heart and mind
That helps me know I finally belong.

For I looked above it all and saw
My shelter, my sky where stars were calling
And I felt that I was falling up instead of down,
And I wore some kind of crown
That gave me my ticket to the dawn.

Poetry Doctor

How do you feel?
How, exactly, have you
learned to feel — to be
touched, to apprehend?
These twinges you have —
of compassion, empathy, pain —
how long have you had them?
Have they grown more intense
with age? Do they manifest at
sunset? At dawn? In the presence
of beauty? Of suffering?
Does your heart ever skip?
Do you ever feel dizzy
with delight or shame? Has
the grace of a few right words
ever blurred your vision? Caught
your breath? Has your heart
ever become a drum when
a song’s words told you
who you are in secret?

I’m afraid my diagnosis
must remain incomplete
without further tests:
Neruda, Dickinson, Basho.

—Kim Stafford
*

“Peace, love, happiness & understanding” will be bi-weekly from now on. The next one will come out on December 10th. See you then!

peace, love & gratitude

Johnny

peace, love, happiness & understanding 11/19/20
2020-11-19 - 2020-11-25
Guru Nitya Chaitanya Yati, Peter Oppenheimer and Nancy Yeilding

THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

November 19, 2020

“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:

Finding Freedom’s Firm Foundation

When 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.

In 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.

As 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.

At 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.”

During 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.

I 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.

In 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.

That 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:

Inexhaustible 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.

It 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.

As 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.

He 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.

For 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 . . .

Through 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.

His 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.

I 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:

The 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. . . .

The 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.

You 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.

And:

I 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.

From 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.

Guru 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.

He 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.

We 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.

His 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.

I 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. . .

The 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.

—Nancy Yeilding

Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue 11/15/20
2020-11-15 - 2020-12-14
Drawing by Charles Erickson

Open Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue

November 15, 2020

Welcome to our third meditation and mindfulness dialogue! The numbers below refer to passages from the book Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh. (JS)
*

M & M Dialogue Group,

I 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.”

In 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.

My 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.

I 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.

—Josh Underhill
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Responding 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):

“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.”

Historically, 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.

But 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.

—Shad Alexander
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I’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.

—Johnny Stallings
*

I 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.

On 10/21 I read #358 “So Many Reasons to Be Happy”

I 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.

Reading #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.

—Josh Underhill
*

October 7, 2020 THE SUFFERING OF THOSE WE LOVE

HOLDING 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….

Maybe 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.”

October 8, 2020 A LOVE LETTER

My 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….

October 15, 2020 SELECTIVE WATERING

….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….

Maybe 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.

October 16, SOVEREIGN OF THE FIVE ELEMENTS

….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.

October 19, 2020 CENTURY OF SPIRITUALITY

….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….

October 21, 2020 THE SEEDS OF HAPPINESS

The 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….

I 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)….

October 22, 2020 THE ART OF MINDFUL LIVING

….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….

I like the idea of stopping, from my daily hustle and bustle, to enjoy breathing. Breathing helps me connect or remember that I am alive….

October 25, 2020 THE ENERGY OF LIBERATION from Be Free Where You Are by Thich Nhat Hanh

What 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….

I 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.

October 28, 2020 NO BEGINNING, NO END #30

Once 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.

November 3, 2020 THOUGHTS FROM 10/15 MINDFULNESS NEWSLETTER

I 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.

I 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!

Michel Deforge
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The Secret behind Our Strife

I, so sure of myself, so ready
to explain why I am right—
I live in a body that will die, and all
my brave words be gone to the sky.

And you, with your shouted reasons
I am wrong, you live in a body
that will fall, be still, be mourned
for the peace you might have found.

Shall you and I, knowing this now,
set our strife aside, pause our proclamations
into curiosity, listening to see what we
might learn, one from another?

—Kim Stafford
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What to say about meditation?

Thanks for all the beautiful writing in the last edition!

Every 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.

I 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.”

Meditation 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.

—Howard Thoresen
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Dear Johnny,

….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.

love, Deb

Insight

After we die we hover for a while
at treetop level with the mourners
beneath us, but we are not separate
from them nor they from us.
They are singing but the words
don’t mean anything in our new language

—Jim Harrison

The Old People

Pantcuffs rolled, and in old shoes,
they stumble over the rocks and wade out
into a cold river of shadows
far from the fire, so far that its warmth
no longer reaches them. And its light
(but for the sparks in their eyes
when they chance to look back)
scarcely brushes their faces. Their ears
are full of night: rustle of black leaves
against a starless sky. Sometimes
they hear us calling, and sometimes
they don’t. They are not searching
for anything much, nor are they much
in need of finding something new.
They are feeling their way out into the night,
letting their eyes adjust to the future.

—Ted Kooser

In Memory of Joseph Brodsky

It could be said, even here, that what remains of the self
Unwinds into a vanishing light, and thins like dust, and heads
To a place where knowing and nothing pass into each other, and through;
That it moves, unwinding still, beyond the vault of brightness ended,
And continues to a place which may never be found, where the unsayable,
Finally, once more is uttered, but lightly, quickly, like random rain
That passes in sleep, that one imagines passes in sleep.
What remains of the self unwinds and unwinds, for none
Of the boundaries holds — neither the shapeless one between us,
Nor the one that falls between your body and your voice. Joseph,
Dear Joseph, those sudden reminders of your having been — the places
And times whose greatest life was the one you gave them — now appear
Like ghosts in your wake. What remains of the self unwinds
Beyond us, for whom time is only a measure of meanwhile
And the future no more than et cetera et cetera …but fast and forever.

—Mark Strand

The Hammock

When I lay my head in my mother’s lap
I think how day hides the stars,
the way I lay hidden once, waiting
inside my mother’s singing to herself. And I remember
how she carried me on her back
between home and the kindergarten,
once each morning and once each afternoon.

I don’t know what my mother’s thinking.

When my son lays his head in my lap, I wonder:
Do his father’s kisses keep his father’s worries
from becoming his? I think, Dear God, and remember
there are stars we haven’t heard from yet:
They have so far to arrive. Amen,
I think, and I feel almost comforted.

I’ve no idea what my child is thinking.

Between two unknowns, I live my life.
Between my mother’s hopes, older than I am
by coming before me, and my child’s wishes, older than I am
by outliving me. And what’s it like?
Is it a door, and good-bye on either side?
A window, and eternity on either side?
Yes, and a little singing between two great rests.

—Li-Young Lee

The Archaic Maker

The archaic maker is of course naive. If a man he listens. If a
woman she listens. A child is listening. A train passes like an underground river. It enters a story.
The river cannot come back. the story goes on. It uses some form
of representation. It does not really need much by way of gadgets, apart
from words, singing, dancing, making pictures and objects that resemble
living shapes. Things of its own devising.
The deafening river carries parents, children, entire families waking
and sleeping homeward.
The story passes stone farms on green hillsides at the mouths of valleys
running up into forests full of summer and unheard water.
In the story it is already tomorrow. A time of memories incorrect
but powerful. Outside the windows is the next of everything.
One of each.
But here is ancient today
itself
the air the living air
the still water

—W. S. Merwin

Opus From Space

Almost everything I know is glad
to be born—not only the desert orangetip,
on the twist of tansy; shaking
birth moisture from its wings, but also the naked
warbler nesting, head wavering toward the sky,
and the honey possum, the pygmy possum,
blind, hairless thimbles of forward,
press and part.

Almost everything I’ve seen pushes
toward the place of that state as if there were
no knowing any other—the violent crack
and seed-propelling shot of each witch hazel pod,
the philosophy implicit in the inside out
seed-thrust of the wood sorrel. All hairy
saltcedar seeds are single-minded
in their grasping of wind and spinning
for luck toward birth by water.

And I’m fairly shocked to consider
all the bludgeonings and batterings going on
coninually, the head-rammings, wing furors,
and beak-crackings, fighting for release
inside gelatinous shells, leather shells,
calcium shells or rough, horny shells. Legs
and shoulder, knees and elbows flail likewise
against their womb walls everywhere, in pine
forest niches, seepage banks and boggy
prairies, among savannah grasses, on woven
mats and perfumed linen sheets.

Mad zealots, every one, even before
beginning they are dark dust-congealings
or pure frenzy to come into light.

Almost everything I know rages to be born,
the obsession founding itself explicitly
in the coming bone harps and ladders,
the heart-thrusts, vessels and voices
of all those speeding with clear and total
fury toward this singular honor.

—Pattiann Rogers

—Deborah Buchanan
*
November 12, 2020
Meditation and Mindfulness

#9 I Have Arrived
#44 We Already Have Enough
#130 Appreciating Simple Joys

These 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.

A 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.”

Example #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.”

Example #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.

My 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.

I 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.

To 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.

So 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.

—Jude Russell
*

[See drawing of elephant and sphere at the top.]

Abstract idea/concrete image. Both at once between sleep and waking.

I woke and found this present in mind and made a drawing quickly before it faded away.

The sphere was, simply, everything. The elephant was God.

When I was drinking coffee later, I added fancy titles from out of my memory:
“All and Everything,” title of a favorite book, for the sphere;

and “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.”

—Charles Erickson
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Thank you, everyone!

That’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.

(If you go to the EVENTS page on this website and click on “Previous Events,” you can find our September and October dialogues.)

May all people be happy.
May we live in peace & love.

—Johnny Stallings

peace, love, happiness & understanding 11/12/20
2020-11-12 - 2020-11-18
Lonnie Glinski as Ophelia and Timothy Hinkhouse as Laertes in the 2015 production of Hamlet at Two Rivers prison

THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

November 12, 2020

I got a letter from Lonnie Glinski this week. He wrote this:

The 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?

Even 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.

Somebody Famous

vs 1
Wand’ring through the years
Looking far and looking near
Seeking clues in many ways,
Solutions to the fears
Accidentally finding answers
Empowering one to tears
Heaven inside realized
In the things somebody famous once said
In the things somebody famous once said.

Chorus
Somebody, somebody, somebody famous
Somebody, somebody, you know what the name is
Famous, famous, somebody famous
Famous, famous, somebody famous once said.

vs 2
Somebody famous once said
Love your neighbor as yourself
Let your light shine, keep it high on the shelf
Treat ev’ryone as you want to be
We are all one big family
In the things somebody famous once said
In the things somebody famous once said.

Bridge
For the poor in spirit, heaven realized
The meek shall inherit, merciful in kind
The pure in heart, see God shall he
Those who mourn, comforted and freed
In the things somebody famous once said
In the things somebody famous once said.

vs 3
Somebody famous once said, find your pearl of great price
My burden is light, come to me as a child
Don’t be a camel stuck in the needle’s eye
Follow me and never die,
In the things somebody famous once said
In the things somebody famous once said.
*

Here’s from a letter Lonnie wrote me on October 13th:

Dear Johnny,

Several things you have written and sent to me lately have spoken to me quite close to my recent thought.

One 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.

On 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….

And 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:

Imagi-
nation never imagined I’d be here today
Lessons learned, tables turned, mistakes along the way
Though I cannot go where my heart longs to go
I gotta bloom where I am, bloom where I’ve landed

The roads I drove, the choices I chose,
the words I spoke and the feelings that grow
Now I cannot go where my heart longs to go
I gotta bloom where I am, bloom where I’ve landed

I’ve travelled through the air to who knows where
I’ve journeyed by water, sometimes wet for hours
I’ve fallen from trees, landing like a nut
Still gotta bloom where I am, bloom where I’ve landed

Standing, crawling, climbing, falling, the winds blew you
Rough or smooth future calling, destination news to you
Help someone like someone helped you
You gotta bloom where you are, bloom where you’ve landed

Bloom like you did in the day when someone cared
Bloom like you did when the way someone clears
Bloom like you’ve done when you felt at home
Bloom where you’re at, bloom where you’ve landed
*

So, that’s what I’m doing, trying to bloom where I’ve landed.

Lonnie
*

On August 20th, Lonnie sent this song:

And They Just Smile

Mentions I hear, someone named Trouble
I try to name the face, but I’m unable
Walk, often-times I hear: here comes Trouble
Taking my chance, turn round really fast…and they just smile

Walk past, sometimes I hear: there goes Trouble
Turning, no one’s there, only empty air
Should I fear that Trouble may be near?
Ask where Trouble went…and they just smile

Chorus
Closed-door community, same faces to see
Seeking notorious version, of this Trouble person
Where can he be found?, not there when I turn around
Please point Trouble out…and they just smile

Chorus repeat

Intense mystery, Trouble passes so nearly
Around and around I go, really do I want to know
Where can he be found?, not there when I turn around
And why, oh why, do they just smile?

Should I be a’worrying, Trouble near concerning?
Where can I go that Trouble cannot follow?
Where can he be found?, not there when I turn around
Really, do I want to know?…and they just smile

Outro (loosely)
And why, oh why, won’t you point him out?
And why, oh why?—come on, help me out
And tell me why, oh why, do they just smile?
And why, oh why, oh why, do you just smile?
*

I 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:

Thanks 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.

It ain’t me

vs 1
Someone squeezed the last toothpaste, left me an empty tube
Someone used the last shampoo…now what am I to do?
I know it was my cellie, I’m gonna give ‘im hell
But…I live in a single cell

Chorus 1
It wasn’t me, it ain’t me—doing things irresponsibly
It ain’t me, it couldn’t be, always leaving me in some fix
My cellie’s gonna catch hell, don’t care I’m in a single cell
‘Cause it wasn’t me

Bridge 1
I know it was him who ate that last cracker
I know it was him who ate that last chip
I know it was him who used that ticket I know I had
I know it was my cellie, gonna give ‘im hell
Regardless, I’m in a single cell

Chorus 2
It wasn’t me; it ain’t me
Like the Family Circus comic strip, it wasn’t me
Don’t watch same TV shows, nor songs on the radio
I’m gonna give ‘im hell for changing that dial
‘Cause I know it wasn’t me

Bridge 2
He hides things so I can’t find ‘em
Knocks over things I’ve been organizin’
Empties things I know without a doubt were full
I know it was my cellie, gonna give ‘im hell
Regardless, I’m in a single cell

With spending so much time in our cells, others can probably relate.

—Lonnie Glinski
*

Well, that’s about it for the Lonnie Glinski Issue. Thanks Lonnie, for bringing smiles to a lot of faces.

May all people be happy.

—Johnny

peace, love, happiness & understanding 11/5/20
2020-11-05 - 2020-11-11
THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

November 5, 2020

Nancy Yeilding sent this excerpt from Love and Blessings, the autobiography of Guru Nitya Chaitanya Yati:

When 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.

At 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.

This 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.

When 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.

Then he asked me, “Are you sincere?”

That 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.

He went on, “You are speaking with conviction?”

“Of course!”

“Do you think I have no conviction about what I say?”

I had never thought of that before. I said, “Yes, you must have conviction.”

“Am I sincere?”

“Maybe….”

“Are you not saying something which is in total contradiction to what I say?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you see the possibility of two people with contradictory views both having full conviction and sincerity?”

“Yes.”

“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?”

I was certainly not prepared, but I didn’t say so.

He 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.”

I 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.

This 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.

—Nitya Chaitanya Yati
*

My 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.

Unconsciously, 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.

In 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.”

Fast 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.

In 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.

No 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.

At 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.

But 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.
*

Mohandas 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.

He 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.

The 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.

In 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.
*

Here are some quotes from Mahatma Gandhi:

If 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.

A man is but a product of his thoughts. What he thinks he becomes.

Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.

A coward is incapable of exhibiting love; it is the prerogative of the brave.

Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.

Freedom is not worth having if it does not include the freedom to make mistakes.

Service which is rendered without joy helps neither the servant nor the served.

If 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.

The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.

In a gentle way, you can shake the world.

If 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.

Hate the sin, not the sinner.

Glory lies in the attempt to reach one’s goal, not in reaching it.

Whenever you are confronted with an opponent, conquer him with love.

Permanent good can never be the outcome of untruth and violence.

The future depends on what you do today.

To give pleasure to a single heart by a single act is better than a thousand heads bowing in prayer.

Earth provides enough to satisfy every man’s needs, but not every man’s greed.

I object to violence because when it appears to do good, the good is only temporary; the evil it does is permanent.

You 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.

It’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.
*

peace & love
Johnny

peace, love, happiness & understanding 10/29/20
2020-10-29 - 2020-11-04
THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

October 29, 2020

Last 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:

Revising Genesis

And God said, Rest here in the garden
where you belong, where now you know
the good from evil, and so the good may be
your calling. Be home here in beauty and bounty,
and by salt sweat of your close devotion, make Earth
your wise guide, each creature teaching miracles of being
in wing and song, in blurred heart of hummingbird
and deep thump of whale, counting nights
in peace and days in blessing, as you
raise your arms in praise.

—Kim Stafford
*

And he recommended this poem by Gary Snyder:

For All

Ah to be alive
on a mid-September morn
fording a stream
barefoot, pants rolled up,
holding boots, pack on,
sunshine, ice in the shallows,
northern rockies.

Rustle and shimmer of icy creek waters
stones turn underfoot, small and hard as toes
cold nose dripping
singing inside
creek music, heart music,
smell of sun on gravel.

I pledge allegiance

I pledge allegiance to the soil
of Turtle Island,
and to the beings who thereon dwell
one ecosystem
in diversity
under the sun
With joyful interpenetration for all.

—Gary Snyder
*

Katie sent this poem of Deborah’s:

The Color of Eyes

The glacier weeps
icicles, weeps shades
of sky and azure sea.

Blue, blue of the waves,
rippling along sand,
coral, and melting ice.

Cornflowers in summer,
blue among the fields
of green and gold.

Flashing blue eyes
beckoning with silence.

Color of a morning,
color of time,
of mourning.

Blue the song of sadness,
smoky grey in the early hours
blue the color of words.

Oh, blue dripping
over ears, into eyes,
water molecules separating,

then vanishing, atoms alone.

—Deborah Buchanan
*

Robin Schauffler wrote:

Hey Johnny,

Thank 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.

And here’s another poem you might want to share:

The 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.

Love,
Robin

Everything is Going to be All Right

How should I not be glad to contemplate
the clouds clearing beyond the dormer window
and a high tide reflected on the ceiling?
There will be dying, there will be dying,
but there is no need to go into that.
The poems flow from the hand unbidden
and the hidden source is the watchful heart.
The sun rises in spite of everything
and the far cities are beautiful and bright.
I lie here in a riot of sunlight
watching the day break and the clouds flying.
Everything is going to be all right.

—Derek Mahon, from Selected Poems
*

I 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:

Inversnaid

This darksome burn, horseback brown,
His rollrock highroad roaring down,
In coop and in comb the fleece of his foam
Flutes and low to the lake falls home.

A windpuff-bonnet of fáwn-fróth
Turns and twindles over the broth
Of a pool so pitchblack, féll-frówning,
It rounds and rounds Despair to drowning.

Degged with dew, dappled with dew
Are the groins of the braes that the brook treads through,
Wiry heathpacks, flitches of fern,
And the beadbonny ash that sits over the burn.

What would the world be, once bereft
Of wet and of wildness? Let them be left,
O let them be left, wildness and wet;
Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.

—Gerard Manley Hopkins

[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.]

This is a charming excerpt from a brief biography on the Gerard Manley Hopkins official website:

He 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.
*

Kim has revised the Gettysburg Address as well as Genesis:

Abe & I

Four 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.

—Kim Stafford
*

Somebody 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:

The Gettysburg Address

Milords and Miladies of the world of people
most restfully and most humbly
and with the deepest reverence
for the great and precious American Saint Abraham Lincoln.
I shall translate in the modern semantic of the hip,
this new zig-zag semantic,
his beloved Gettysburg Address….

When dey called old Lanky Linc up to de podium
and he dug all dem cats and kiddies swingin’ on the green sward,
great love look come on his Saint face,
and he put dis issue down to ’em, he say:

Four big hits and seven licks ago,
our before-daddies swung forth upon this sweet groovey land
a jumpin’, wailin’, stompin’, swingin’ new nation,
hip to the cool sweet groove of liberty
and solid sent upon the Ace lick dat all cats and kiddies,
red, white, or blue, is created level in front.
We are now hung with a king size main-day Civil Drag,
soundin’ whether this nation or any up there nation,
so hip and so solid sent can stay with it all the way.
We have stomped out here to the hassle site
of some of the worst jazz blown in the entire issue.
Gettys-mother-burg.
We are here to turn on a small soil stash
of the before-mentioned hassle site
as a final sweet sod pad for those
who laid it down and left it there
so that this jumpin’ happy beat might blow forever-more.
And we all dig that this is the straightest lick.
But diggin’ it harder from afar we cannot mellow,
we cannot put down the stamp of the lord on this sweet sod
because the strong non-stop studs,
both diggin’ it and dug under it, who hassled here
have mellowed it with such a wild mad beat
that we can hear it, but we can’t touch it.
Now the world cats will short dig nor long stash in their wigs
what we are beatin’ our chops around here,
but it never can successively shade what they vanced here.
It is for us the swingin’ to pick up the dues
of these fine studs who cut out from here
and fly it through to Endsville.
It is hipper for us to be signifyin’ to the glorious gig
that we can’t miss with all these bulgin’ eyes,
that from all these A-stamp studs we double our love kick, too,
that righteous line for which these hard cats sounded
the last nth bone of the beat of the bell.
That we here want it stuck up straight for all to dig
that these departed studs shall not have split in vain,
and that this nation under the great swingin’ Lord
shall swing up a whopper of endless Mardi Gras,
and that the big law by you straights,
from you cats,
and for you kiddies,
shall not be scratched from the big race.

—Richard “Lord” Buckley (1906-1960)
*

Here’s a link to a performance by Lord Buckley:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VuQ-Xt-pDbk
*

I guess while we’re at it, we should include the original:

Four 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.

Now 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.

But, 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.

—Abraham Lincoln
November 19, 1863

peace & love, y’all
Johnny

peace, love, happiness & understanding 10/22/20
2020-10-22 - 2020-10-28
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)

THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

October 22, 2020

My 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:

For Papatūānuku – Mother Earth

Rest now, e Papatūānuku
Breathe easy and settle
Right here where you are
We’ll not move upon you
For awhile

We’ll stop, we’ll cease
We’ll slow down and stay home

Draw each other close and be kind
Kinder than we’ve ever been.
I wish we could say we were doing it for you
as much as ourselves

But hei aha

We’re doing it anyway

It’s right. It’s time.
Time to return
Time to remember
Time to listen and forgive
Time to withhold judgment
Time to cry
Time to think

About others

Remove our shoes
Press hands to soil
Sift grains between fingers

Gentle palms

Time to plant
Time to wait
Time to notice
To whom we belong

For now it’s just you
And the wind
And the forests and the oceans and the sky full of rain

Finally, it’s raining!

Ka turuturu te wai kamo o Rangi ki runga i a koe

Embrace it

This sacrifice of solitude we have carved out for you

He iti noaiho – a small offering
People always said it wasn’t possible
To ground flights and stay home and stop our habits of consumption

But it was
It always was.

We were just afraid of how much it was going to hurt
—and it IS hurting and it will hurt and continue to hurt—
But not as much as you have been hurt.

So be still now

Wrap your hills around our absence
Loosen the concrete belt cinched tight at your waist

Rest.
Breathe.
Recover.
Heal—

And we will do the same.

—Nadine Anne Hura, 23 March 2020

A note of gratitude from Nadine:

Thank 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…

Papatūānuku – Mother Earth (the addition of the “e” in front signals the words are addressed or spoken directly to her.)

Ka 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.

Hei aha – This can be translated in many ways, but I meant it like the English “oh well, whatever”

He 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.

Thank you so much for the support.

—Nadine Anne Hura
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Here’s a link, (also sent by Mark Alter), to an essay by Nadine Anne Hura, “I’m Reclaiming the Name I Lost”:

https://e-tangata.co.nz/reflections/nadine-anne-hura-im-reclaiming-the-name-i-lost/

(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!)

I’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.
*

I…peruse manifold objects, no two alike and every one good,
The earth good and the stars good, and their adjuncts all good.

—Walt Whitman (1819-1892), from “Song of Myself”
*

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting—
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

—Mary Oliver (1935-2019)
*

Earth Dweller

It was all the clods at once become
precious; it was the barn, and the shed,
and the windmill, my hands, the crack
Arlie made in the ax handle: oh, let me stay
here humbly, forgotten, to rejoice in it all;
let the sun casually rise and set.
If I have not found the right place,
teach me; for somewhere inside, the clods are
vaulted mansions, lines through the barn sing
for the saints forever, the shed and windmill
rear so glorious the sun shudders like a gong.

Now I know why people worship, carry around
magic emblems, wake up talking dreams
they teach to their children: the world speaks.
The world speaks everything to us.
It is our only friend.

—William Stafford (1914-1993)

Here’s a link to an audio recording of William Stafford reading the poem:

https://voetica.com/voetica.php?collection=2&poet=827&poem=7251

*

This poem must be read aloud:

Pied Beauty

Glory be to God for dappled things –
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough;
And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.

—Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889)
*

Bill Faricy sent this poem:

Weary of those who come with words, words but no language
I make my way to the snow-covered island.
The untamed has no words.
The unwritten pages spread out on every side!
I come upon the tracks of deer in the snow.
Language but no words.

—Tomas Tranströmer (1931-2015)
*

Katie Radditz also thought of Mary Oliver:

My Work is Loving the World

My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird –
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young and still not half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all ingredients are here,

Which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever.

–Mary Oliver

As the bumper sticker with a picture of our planet says:

LOVE YOUR MOTHER

–Johnny

Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue 10/15/20
2020-10-15 - 2020-11-14
Open Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue

October 15, 2020

Welcome to our second meditation and mindfulness dialogue! The numbers below refer to passages from the book Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh. (JS)
*
Hello 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.
Today 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.
A 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.
In 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.
—Joshua Tyler Barnes
PS…All the meditation writings I read in your last newsletter Rocked! Thanks.
*
Thank 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…
The Suffering of Those We Love #23
How 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?
—Jeff Kuehner
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#75 Your True Nature & #247 Nirvana Is Now
In 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.
—Johnny Stallings
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#305 Sit With Your Fear
When 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.
There 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!
Johnny, 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!
—Cody Dalton
*
Today’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.
The 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.
—Shad Alexander
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#365
“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.
Let’s start the revolution.
Thanks Johnny.
—Brandon Gillespie
*
Dear Johnny,
As 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.
I 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.
Then 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).
Thanks, Johnny, this filled my tank.
Love, Ken
—Ken Margolis
*
“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.”
—quote by an unknown author from Josh Underhill
*
Yesterday [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.
I 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.
That’s my thought for the day.
—Howard Thoresen
*
Dear Johnny,
Some 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
the opportunity to read the book in more depth and realized how much of your
prison work is discussed. Voodoo Doughnut’s contribution is discussed, as well as that of the Smith Foundation.
However 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.
Zen 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.
Peace and Love,
—Jerry Smith
*
Michel Deforge has been meditating deeply on Your True Home, and keeping an (almost) daily journal. Below are just a few of his meditations. (JS)
AIMLESSNESS
What 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).
*
I AM HERE FOR YOU
I 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…
*
FOUNDATION OF LOVE
I 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!
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EMBRACE THEM WITH GREAT TENDERNESS
….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!
—Michel Deforge
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Katie sent a letter from Thich Nhat Hanh and a poem by Juan Felipe Herrera. (JS)
Tomorrow [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.

A LETTER TO THE EARTH

Dear Mother Earth

Every 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.

Walking in this spirit, I can experience awakening, I can awaken to the fact that I am alive and that life is a precious miracle.
I 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.

Dear 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.

Thich Nhat Hanh
*

Basho & Mandela

As Basho has said—
it is a narrow road to the Deep North—as Mandela has said
the haphazard segregation later became a well-orchestrated
segregation
—as Basho has said the journey began with an attained
awareness
that at any moment you can become a weather-exposed skeleton
—think of us in this manner
these are notes for your nourishment—hold them
as bowls of kindness
from journeys of bravery
the will to seek & find the sudden turning rivers & the dawn-eyed
freedom

—Juan Felipe Herrera

—Katie Radditz
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Within 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.
First 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.).
Next 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.
Finally start filling the frame, putting into the window what you see, and that can be either physically or emotionally what you see.
Maybe start with words—a haiku, a short poem, or just the most vivid and necessary words. Then jump to a short story.
Or try drawing in cartoon images. Then maybe a drawing that is as detailed as you can make it.
After 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.
This 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.
Maybe 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.
Enjoy.
—Deborah Buchanan
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“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.”
—from Walden by Henry David Thoreau (quote sent by Jake Green)
*
I 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.
Love 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.
I 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.
—Aaron Gilbert
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#53 When You Argue with the One You Love
In 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.
—Rocky Hutchinson
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Well, that’s a wrap for our second Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue. Lovely!
The 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.

May all people be happy.
May we live in love.

—Johnny Stallings

peace, love & pollyanna 10/15/20
2020-10-15 - 2020-10-21
THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

October 15, 2020

I WANT TO BE MORE LIKE POLLYANNA

Pollyanna: noun an excessively cheerful or optimistic person.

In 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?!!!

I 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.

As 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).

Pollyanna 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:

“But, say, we better hurry. I’ve got ter get them dishes done, ye know.”
“I’ll help,” promised Pollyanna, promptly.
“Oh, Miss Pollyanna!” demurred Nancy.
For a moment there was silence. The sky was darkening fast. Pollyanna took a firmer hold of her friend’s arm.
“I reckon I’m glad, after all, that you DID get scared—a little, ’cause then you came after me,” she shivered.
“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.”
“But I couldn’t. I was up here.”
“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.”
“Oh, I’m not. I’m glad.”
“Glad! Why?”
“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.”
“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.
Pollyanna laughed softly.
“Well, that’s the game, you know, anyway.”
“The—GAME?”
“Yes; the ‘just being glad’ game.”
“Whatever in the world are you talkin’ about?”
“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.”
“What is it? I ain’t much on games, though.”
Pollyanna laughed again, but she sighed, too; and in the gathering twilight her face looked thin and wistful.
“Why, we began it on some crutches that came in a missionary barrel.”
“CRUTCHES!”
“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.”
“Well, I must say I can’t see any game about that,” declared Nancy, almost irritably.
“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.”
“Well, goodness me! I can’t see anythin’ ter be glad about—gettin’ a pair of crutches when you wanted a doll!”
Pollyanna clapped her hands.
“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.”
“Well, then, suppose YOU tell ME,” almost snapped Nancy.
“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!”
“Well, of all the queer doin’s!” breathed Nancy, regarding Pollyanna with almost fearful eyes.
“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.”
“Yes, or when you’re put in a snippy little room ‘way at the top of the house with nothin’ in it,” growled Nancy.
Pollyanna sighed.
“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.”
“Humph!” choked Nancy, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.
“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.
“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!”
“Oh, Nancy!” exulted Pollyanna, giving her a rapturous hug. “That’ll be splendid! Won’t we have fun?”
“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.
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.
“Have you had your supper, Pollyanna?”
“Yes, Aunt Polly.”
“I’m very sorry, Pollyanna, to have been obliged so soon to send you into the kitchen to eat bread and milk.”
“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.”
Aunt Polly sat suddenly a little more erect in her chair.
“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.”
Quite as a matter of course, Pollyanna came straight to her aunt’s side and gave her an affectionate hug.
“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.
“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.
Fifteen minutes later, in the attic room, a lonely little girl sobbed into the tightly-clutched sheet:
“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!”
Down-stairs in the kitchen, Nancy, hurrying with her belated work, jabbed her dish-mop into the milk pitcher, and muttered jerkily:
“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!”

Mrs. 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:

“They didn’t tell me you were so pretty!”
“Me!—pretty!” scoffed the woman, bitterly.
“Why, yes. Didn’t you know it?” cried Pollyanna.
“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….
“Oh, I love black hair! I should be so glad if I only had it,” sighed Pollyanna.
Mrs. Snow dropped the mirror and turned irritably.
“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!”
Pollyanna bent her brows in a thoughtful frown.
“Why, ‘twould be kind of hard—to do it then, wouldn’t it?” she mused aloud.
“Do what?”
“Be glad about things.”
“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!”
To Mrs. Snow’s unbounded amazement, Pollyanna sprang to her feet and clapped her hands.
“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.

Pollyanna returns a couple days later.

“I’ve thought it up, Mrs. Snow—what you can be glad about.”
“GLAD about! What do you mean?”
“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.”
“Oh!” scoffed the woman. “THAT? Yes, I remember that; but I didn’t suppose you were in earnest any more than I was.”
“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.”
“Did you, really? Well, what is it?” Mrs. Snow’s voice was sarcastically polite.
Pollyanna drew a long breath.
“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.
*

Cheerful 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?

The 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.

Surely 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.

Last 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:

https://reasonstobecheerful.world

I recommended books by David Korten and Charles Eisenstein. There are a lot of their talks on YouTube. Here are a couple links:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SRYEHOStmss&t=3211s

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YKYqbNzAav4

Someone 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:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NJ9UtuWfs3U

I 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:

Our Next Big Thing

The deal-maker is in denial, Mr. Kentucky
on a tear, the zigzag death toll seeks the sky,
someone gets shot asking for a mask, a naming
party sparks another outbreak, the news is
mega fires and hurricanes, and our fears
come true like wishes turned to curses
that prey upon our foolishness.

So why does the wren still sing? Why
did I see a child skip, a mail clerk grin
in that moment she adjusted her mask?
Why the uptick in random kindnesses?
Dogs don’t stop wagging, or flowers
opening their secrets. We must be
getting ready for the next big thing.

—Kim Stafford
*

When 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.”

May all people be happy.
May we live in love.

—Johnny

peace, love, happiness & understanding 10/8/20
2020-10-08 - 2020-10-14
THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

October 8, 2020

I 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):

THE GOLDEN WORLD

where is the golden world?
it’s right here

what is it?
it’s a place of quiet joy
a place where everything is miraculous

i know i’m in the golden world
when there is nowhere i would rather be

the golden world is paradise
not the paradise that existed long ago

or the paradise that is yet to come

but this one

to get to the golden world
one thing that sometimes helps
is to slow down

rushing around
trying to get somewhere else
we fail to appreciate where we are

when this ordinary world is alive for us
with beauty, with joy, with love, with peace
we are in the golden world

this ordinary world is the golden world
transformed by a shift in the way we see it
or feel it

one of the most astonishing things about us
is our ability to take things for granted
we get used to trees, to the sky, to birds
to each other
to ourselves
to life as we live it

we are just here a little while
we better wake up right now

we are always in the golden world
but when we imagine it is somewhere else
we feel that we are in exile

hoping we will somehow improve
wishing things were different
we miss the blessings we have
the blessings of who we are

a goldfinch doesn’t imagine that it can improve

there is suffering within us and around us
the remedy for the suffering within us is close at hand

as for the big world
it is always simultaneously full of great suffering
and great beauty

if we do not live in quiet joy
in beauty, in truth
in freedom, in love—
what i am calling the golden world—
we cannot transform the suffering

of course, some suffering is built into the world
we are mortal creatures
disease and death are inevitable

but there is gratuitous suffering
we create through our ignorance,
our hatred, our anger, our fear

if we imagine we have an enemy
we are always at war

our inner conflict is the source of much outer conflict
wars begin in the minds of men

there is a stillness
in which there is no conflict
we can live there
or here
in the golden world

the peace which passeth understanding
is our birthright
maybe we forgot
got lost

it’s time to remember
to come home
to the golden world

we are born into the golden world
we learn to understand and to speak a language
it’s an astonishing thing!
we create an identity, a story about who we are
we create a mythos, a story about the world in which we live
these are fantastic achievements!

but, alas!, these stories become the prisons in which we live
we take everything new and turn it into something old

we don’t live in the world
we live inside our descriptions of the world

we are fictional characters
living in fictional worlds

the golden world is this ordinary world
not mediated by thought or language

we touch it all the time
whenever we take a sip of tea
and are not doing anything but taking a sip of tea
we are in the golden world

a quiet setting makes it easier for us to experience the golden world
but when the stillness is strong within us
the whole noisy world is golden

when thought and language are our tools
rather than our masters
they are a blessing
not a curse

when meditation is not just something we do for half-an-hour in the morning
when we live in meditation
we live in the golden world

we are always in the golden world
whether we know it or not
the place we’ve always wanted to get to
is where we are

that which is not born
and does not die
is who we are

in the golden world
there is nothing to strive for

no regret

all our sins are washed away

the golden world is not an imaginary place
the world described in the newspaper is an imaginary place

the golden world is never somewhere else
it is always right now where we are
or not at all

when you are in it
you are not

when you can’t see it
you are blind

when the poet said
“each moment and whatever happens thrills me with joy”
he was in it
and when he said
“Divine am I inside and out,
and I make holy whatever I touch
or am touch’d from”

when another poet felt that he “was blessed
and could bless”
he was in it

another poet clarified the matter when she said:
“The Infinite a sudden Guest
Has been assumed to be–
But how can that stupendous come
Which never went away?”

you can’t get to the golden world by trying to go there
when you are not trying to go somewhere
not trying to do something
not trying to be someone
you might find that you are in the golden world

when i’m in it, i think
“this is my home
i must never allow myself to lose this
even for a moment”

then, later, it’s gone
did i leave the golden world?
or did it leave me?

i find myself in exile
and want to return

i know that that wanting condemns me to exile
and so i seek to find my way home by a kind of indirection
instead of doing something
i do nothing

when the mind is quiet and alert
it doesn’t matter whether “i” am in the golden world or not
the question doesn’t arise
or if it does
it is seen for what it is

the squirrel outside, sitting on a branch
has no ideas about a golden world
and so it lives in the golden world

“the golden world” is a name i give to something
that has no name

to have an identity is to be in exile

am i in the golden world?
or is the golden world in me?

behind each person’s mask
shines a radiant, glorious, perfect being

beneath who we pretend to be
is who we are

at those moments when we see through everyone’s mask
we are in the golden world

when we see through someone’s mask
it is impossible not to love them

for this to be paradise
we have to love everyone
without love, it isn’t paradise

when where we are
and where we want to be
are the same place
we are in the golden world

the seer sees the golden world
the seeker seeks the golden world
the seeker asks: where is it?
the seer replies: where isn’t it?

this is it

you want a miracle?
the poet said:
“a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions of infidels”
if that is so
where can you find something that is not miraculous?

there has never been
is not now
and will never be
anything more perfect
more beautiful
more miraculous
than a glass of water

there are miracles everywhere you look
the eyes with which you see
are miraculous
our brains, nervous systems
our heart’s pumping blood
miracles!

that we are alive
and aware
in this world of marvels
is a great blessing

—Johnny Stallings

Beginner's Mind by Shunryū Suzuki
2020-10-01 - 2020-10-14
Beginner’s Mind

People 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.

In 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.

For 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.

If 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.

In 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.

So 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.

—Shunryū Suzuki, the Prologue to Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind (1970)

peace, love, happiness & understanding 10/1/20
2020-10-01 - 2020-10-07
THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

October 1, 2020

On 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:

Holy Smokes

Downwind from where the forest burns
we inhale the cindered souls of trees
that in a whoosh became particulate
and rode the wind to enter us. With
this breath take in the spirit whisker
of a mouse, incinerate wren’s cry
clenched and tumbled from the sky,
moss that leaped from green to nothing,
flailing leaf that in a fiery gasp
rushed through charcoal into dust
inside the billow flame that roiled and—
holy, holy, holy became the smoke-smudge
pall that smuggled mountains into us.

Now freighted for life with dusky mist,
even as we help sustain our neighbors
who lost everything but life, we survivors
are the walking shrine of little lives. We are them,
are earth mind suddenly, to weigh by human choice
what’s best for upward yearning seed of cedar,
footfall of mouse, wingbeat of wren.

—Kim Stafford
*

And now…

FOUR CHANGES

I. POPULATION

The Condition

Position: 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.
Situation: 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.
Goal: The goal would be half of the present world population, or less.

Action

Social/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.
In 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.
The 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.
Our 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.

II. POLLUTION

The Condition

Position: 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.
Situation: 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.
Goal: 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.

Action

Social/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.
Stop 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.
The 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.
Our 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.”

III. CONSUMPTION

The Condition

Position: 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.
Situation: 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.
Goal: 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.

Action

Social/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.
The 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.
(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.
Our 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.”

IV. TRANSFORMATION

The Condition

Position: 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.”
Situation: 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.
Goal: 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:

A healthy and spare population of all races, much less in number than today.
Cultural and individual pluralism, unified by a type of world tribal council. Division by natural and cultural boundaries rather than arbitrary political boundaries.
A 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.
A 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.
Women totally free and equal. A new kind of family — responsible, but more festive and relaxed is implicit.

Action

Social/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.
The 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.
Our 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.”
Knowing that nothing need be done is the place from which we begin to move.

—Gary Snyder (Summer of 1969)
*

Here’s a link to an audio recording of Gary Snyder reading “Four Changes”:

https://www.garynabhan.com/news/2020/04/four-changes-by-gary-snyder/

peace, love & ecology

Johnny

peace, love, happiness & understanding 9/24/20
2020-09-24 - 2020-09-30
THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

September 24, 2020

HOW HIPPIES MAY STILL SAVE THE WORLD

Shortly 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.

The 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.

It 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.

The 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?

It 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.”

I 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.

Hippies 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).

Hippies 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.

“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.

I 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.

My 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.

This subject is too big for this kind of short essay. Here are the most important hippie ideas:

Nature is Sacred
Money isn’t Everything; (Money and Wealth are not the same thing)
Local Organic Agriculture
Local Economics
Community
Peace & Nonviolence
Children raised to be free, rather than obedient
Meditation & Mindfulness
Live the life you love; (Do your own thing)
Love Everyone!

I 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.

One 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.

If 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.)

Meditation 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.

We 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:

One love!
One heart!

I’ll close this issue of peace, love, happiness & understanding with some Good Vibes:

Love’s In Need Of Love Today

(Spoken.) “When you say that you kill in the
Name of God or in the name of Allah,
You are truly cursing God, for that is not of God.
When you say that you hate in the name of God or Allah,
You are lying to God, for that is not of our Father.
Let us pray that we see the light.”

Good morn or evening friends
Here’s your friendly announcer
I have serious news to pass on to everybody
What I’m about to say
Could mean the world’s disaster
Could change your joy and laughter to tears and pain

It’s that
Love’s in need of love today
Don’t delay
Send your’s in right away
Hate’s goin’ round
Breaking many hearts
Stop it please
Before it’s gone too far

—Stevie Wonder
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=paZEqzrrO-4)
*

What the World Needs Now

What the world needs now is love, sweet love
It’s the only thing that there’s just too little of
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
No, not just for some, but for everyone

—Burt Bacharach
(sung by Dionne Warwick: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FfHAs9cdTqg)
*

All You Need Is Love

Love, love, love
Love, love, love
Love, love, love

There’s nothing you can do that can’t be done
Nothing you can sing that can’t be sung
Nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game
It’s easy

Nothing you can make that can’t be made
No one you can save that can’t be saved
Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time
It’s easy

[chorus] All you need is love
All you need is love
All you need is love, love
Love is all you need

[repeat] Love, love, love…

[chorus]

Nothing you can know that isn’t known
Nothing you can see that isn’t shown
Nowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be
It’s easy

All you need is love
All you need is love
All you need is love, love
Love is all you need

—John Lennon
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_7xMfIp-irg)
*

Get Together

Love is but a song we sing
Fear’s the way we die
You can make the mountains ring
Or make the angels cry
Though the bird is on the wing
And you may not know why
[Chorus] Come on people now
Smile on your brother
Everybody get together
Try to love one another right now
Some may come and some may go
We will surely pass
When the one that left us here
Returns for us at last
We are but a moment’s sunlight
Fading in the grass
[Chorus]

If you hear the song I sing
You will understand (listen!)
You hold the key to love and fear
All in your trembling hand
Just one key unlocks them both
It’s there at your command

[Chorus] Come on people now
Smile on your brother
Everybody get together
Try to love one another right now

—Chet Powers (recorded by The Kingston Trio and by The Youngbloods)
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=deW7_D5qems)
*

And a hippie classic:

San Francisco

If you’re going to San Francisco
Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair
If you’re going to San Francisco
You’re gonna meet some gentle people there

For those who come to San Francisco
Summertime will be a love-in there
In the streets of San Francisco
Gentle people with flowers in their hair

All across the nation
Such a strange vibration
People in motion

There’s a whole generation
With a new explanation
People in motion
People in motion

For those who come to San Francisco
Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair
If you come to San Francisco
Summertime will be a love-in there

—written by John Phillips of the Mamas and the Papas (performed Scott McKenzie)
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7I0vkKy504U)

peace & love
Johnny

Bibliophiles Unanimous!: PRISON THEATRE Book Tour with Ashley Lucas
2020-09-20 15:00 - 17:00 (America/Los_Angeles)
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.

The fourth Shakespeare in Prisons Conference is highlighting Ashley’s book. Here are some links:

Ashley being interviewed about her Prison Theatre book:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=76dfvyk_bB0&t=6s
Ashley talking with returned citizens who have performed in plays in prison:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=28mGM-3t30g
Conversation between Ashley and prison theatre directors. (Note. I’m in this one (JS)):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vGYQEqUIUdQ

peace, love, happiness & understanding 9/17/20
2020-09-17 - 2020-09-23
The Platters

THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

September 17, 2020

It’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.

Aaron Gilbert wrote that he has been fighting fires. Kim Stafford sent me an email on Monday:

This morning early, reading about inmates on the fire lines, it came to this.

Inmate Fights Fire

When it gets really bad, they want me out—out there
on that fire-line, sweating sparks, staring down flames
I look up to as I dig like some fiend. Dollar an hour
to be a crispy critter to save somebody’s home. Yeah, they
figure the same jinx of brave and stupid got me convicted
might make me right to stand my ground for fire.

Like these boots? Like this hickory handle I flick
back and forth so my shovel slashes dirt, leaves
no food fire can eat? I like leaning back to see
that red sun staring through these skeleton trees
like bars in my cellblock window. And the wind
brings me smoke for free. Free?

When my sentence ends, you think I’ll walk free?
You think they’ll look at me to say, “He’s good”?
They plot their own fire-line to keep me on the dark side.
Got it? Like my face tattoo says “Bad Man. Don’t Hire.”
You can walk out the prison gate, but try walking through
the reputation wall to freedom after they call you felon.

I served my time. Serious good behavior. And after?
Give me a chance. Or shall I say, I’ve been burned.

—Kim Stafford
*

Part 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:

It says here you’re from Houston
And you’re certified to drive a truck
But it doesn’t say what you’ve been doin’
For the last five years
Then he watched his eyes keep readin’
Then he watched his eyes look up
And he watched another job he needed just disappear

‘Cause when they get to the line
Have you been convicted of a crime
They say thanks for comin’ and they don’t call you back
I ain’t askin’ for every job under the sun
I just want one
Second chance

On August 22nd
Little Jacob’s turnin’ nine
But his momma moved him
A half a state away
I left another message
On her phone at home last night
And she finally had her lawyer
Call today

She knows he can’t afford
To take this thing to court
And I’m tryin’ hard to make her understand
I’m not askin’ for every weekend of every month
I just want one
Second chance

I was young and I was stupid
I regret it everyday
I ain’t saying I didn’t do it
But I’ve paid for my mistakes
It’s a lost and empty feeling when they don’t want you around
I’ve finally got my freedom but what good is it now

There’s some day’s when it feels like it’s been a 100 years
Sometimes it seems like only yesterday
We were painting Jacob’s nursery
Counting days until he was here
Next thing I knew I’d thrown it all away
Now I know I can’t go back
To the life I used to have
When I still held the whole world in my hands
I had a job I had a wife I had a son
Now I just want one
Second chance

—Randall Brown
*
Randall says:

I’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.
When 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.
*

Thinking about smoke and fires, I naturally thought of Gary Snyder’s “Smokey the Bear Sutra”:

SMOKEY THE BEAR SUTRA

Once 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.
“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.”
“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.”
And he showed himself in his true form of
SMOKEY THE BEAR
A handsome smokey-colored brown bear standing on his hind legs, showing that he is aroused and watchful.
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;
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;
Wearing the blue work overalls symbolic of slaves and laborers, the countless men oppressed by a civilization that claims to save but often destroys;
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—
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;
Round-bellied to show his kind nature and that the great earth has food enough for everyone who loves her and trusts her;
Trampling underfoot wasteful freeways and needless suburbs, smashing the worms of capitalism and totalitarianism;
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.
Wrathful but calm. Austere but Comic. Smokey the Bear will Illuminate those who would help him; but for those who would hinder or slander him…
HE WILL PUT THEM OUT.
Thus his great Mantra:
Namah samanta vajranam chanda maharoshana
Sphataya hum traka ham mam
“I DEDICATE MYSELF TO THE UNIVERSAL DIAMOND
BE THIS RAGING FURY DESTROYED”
And 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:
And if anyone is threatened by advertising, air pollution, television, or the police, they should chant SMOKEY THE BEAR’S WAR SPELL:
DROWN THEIR BUTTS
CRUSH THEIR BUTTS
DROWN THEIR BUTTS
CRUSH THEIR BUTTS
And SMOKEY THE BEAR will surely appear to put the enemy out with his vajra-shovel.
Now 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.

Will help save the planet Earth from total oil slick.
Will enter the age of harmony of man and nature.
Will win the tender love and caresses of men, women, and beasts.
Will always have ripened blackberries to eat and a sunny spot under a pine tree to sit at.

AND IN THE END WILL WIN HIGHEST PERFECT ENLIGHTENMENT
thus we have heard.

(may be reproduced free forever)

—Gary Snyder
*
That reminds me of a joke…

What do Alexander the Great and Smokey the Bear have in common?
Same middle name.

And now it’s time to sing along to the Smokey the Bear Song with Eddy Arnold:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Myz93sXW66Y

peace & love

—Johnny

Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue
2020-09-15 - 2020-10-14
Open Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue

September 15, 2020

Welcome to our first meditation and mindfulness dialogue! The numbers below refer to passages from the book Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh. (JS)

#159 A Healing Mantra
Although 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.
—Rocky Hutchinson
*
#49 – What is a leaf?
Is 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.
Thank 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!
Peace Love Happiness
—Jake Green
*
Originally, 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:

I am the good man.
I am the good decisions that I make.
I am compassion, I do not fake.
I am kindness, I am love.
I am by choice, not by chance.
I am intent, not happenstance.
I am in servitude of good.
I am alive and I am living.
I am grateful I am.

—Joseph Opyd
*
#6 Concentration
Concentration 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.
There 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.
My 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.”
—Cody Dalton
*
I 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.
Now 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.

#191 Love is Understanding
When 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.
—Rocky Hutchinson
*
#4 Ambassador of the Cosmos
I 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.
—Johnny Stallings
*
What 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.

What Do I Know?

Closing my eyes,
a silent darkness,
light
at the edges.
My breath moves
up and down,
holding each moment,
inhalation
then release.
The human heart
is quixotic,
malleable,
almost like a berry
in the palm of my hand.
In my ears,
a deeper space
that stretches out,
a disappearing
reverberation.
We touch nothingness.

—Deborah Buchanan, from Layers of Sediment
*
When 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)
Even 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?
If 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.
The 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.

—from That Alone: The Core of Wisdom by Nitya Chaitanya Yati pp. 140-141
*Narayana Guru (1856-1928). This book is a long commentary inspired by a philosophical poem by Narayana Guru, Ātmopadeśa Shatakam.
—Scott Teitsworth
*
#7 Why we suffer
Thich 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:

Call me the scruffy hermit of willow islands.
Call me the skipping stone eager to squander all
for a few joyful episodes of buoyancy. I could be
counting money? I could be a hero of fame?
Call me one lost to water’s wonders, far gone
down a back channel gaping at water beads
dripping brilliant from the paddle’s blade.

—Kim Stafford
*
I 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.
—Shad Alexander
*
Spaciousness
It 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.
I 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.”
Don’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.
Duet. 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.
Spaciousness allows my mind to remember things like this. My mind can rest or wander; either way, it awakens refreshed, mindful.
—Jude Russell
*
Reading 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.
—Howard Thoresen
*
I’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.
After 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.
—Bill Faricy
*
78 The Wounded Child
I 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.
I 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.
I 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.
I 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.
I 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.
—Aaron Gilbert
*
Your 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.
In 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.
Even 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.
—Michel Deforge
*
This is one of my favorite guided meditations from Thich Nhat Hanh.
It begins with his signature meditation on being aware of our most basic source of life.
Take three deep breaths then breathing normally, gently, follow someone saying to you the following, or say to yourself:

“Breathing in I am aware that I am breathing in. Breathing out I am aware of breathing out.”
In, out. . . . . in, out . . . .
In, out. . . . . in, out . . . .
In, out. . . . . in, out . . . .

Breathing in, I see myself as a flower.
Breathing out, I feel fresh.
Flower/Fresh (say this to yourself, for three in and out breaths)

Breathing in, I see myself as a mountain.
Breathing out, I feel solid.
Mountain/Solid

Breathing in, I see myself as a mountain lake.
Breathing out, I reflect things as they are.
Water/Reflecting

Breathing in, I see myself as the sky or space.
Breathing out, I feel free.
Space/Free.

Some of my reflections on this practice.
On being a flower:
When 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.
Later, 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.
On being a mountain:
Moving 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.
On being a mountain lake:
The 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.
On being the sky :
The 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.
This 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.
There 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.
I hope you will find some peace, be well.
A plum blossom to you, Katie
(I wish I could send you some plums that are growing now on the plum tree)
—Katie Radditz
*
Our dialogue begins. Thank you. We’re off to a good start!
Today, 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.
May all people be happy.
May we live in peace and love.

—Johnny

peace, love, happiness & understanding 9/10/20
2020-09-10 - 2020-09-16
THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

September 10, 2020

The Paradise of Books

Cervantes 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.
Since June 7th, I have been hosting a Zoom gathering on Sunday afternoons at 3 pm, Bibliophiles Unanimous!

(https://openroadpdx.com/event/bibliophiles-unanimous/).

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!)

Our 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.

Our 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.

Things I read are constantly changing my inner landscape. Want to see the world in a new way? Try this:

In the Celestial Emporium of Benevolent Knowledge, it is written that animals are divided into:

those that belong to the Emperor,
embalmed ones,
those that are trained,
suckling pigs,
mermaids,
fabulous ones,
stray dogs,
those included in the present classification,
those that tremble as if they were mad,
innumerable ones,
those drawn with a very fine camelhair brush,
others,
those that have just broken a flower vase,
those that from a long way off look like flies.

—from Other Inquisitions, by Jorge Luis Borges
*

As 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.

And 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.

I 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.)

For 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.
*

Some poems came my way this week. Josh Barnes sent me this sonnet:

Sonnet #1

Each snowdrift piles higher than the last,
The ground’s surface has long frozen over;
A frigid picture—Nature’s wild past
That beckons the heart—taunting, Come closer;
But as times change the beauty is melted,
Leaving a dreadful Silence in its stead,
For the ones that would’ve truly felt it
Are lying inside their graves, long dead;
But beauty shed need not mean beauty lost,
And life has many a surprise in store,
Like rivers that spring from ‘neath the frost,
Then freely flow from the glaciers to pour;
Endless the stream of life in its beauty,
The circle of life doing its duty.

—Joshua Barnes
*

Doug 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:

Sheltering in Place #12

The crows are freaking out about the mask.
We’re not speaking.

Now they squawk
and flee me when they see me coming up the walk
in my orange and yellow
tie-dye pandemic disguise.

I can’t blame them.
They can’t see what I’m hiding from
and neither can I.
They don’t know the real me anymore
and neither do I.

I don’t ask why, I just don’t want to die.

How explain four million
nine hundred and eighteen thousand
four hundred and twenty
down,

or one hundred and sixty thousand
two hundred and ninety
gone.

Their world isn’t falling apart right now.
The spider webs are still holding.

Flashbacks of the old life come at me
like phantom reds and blues
in the mind of a man five months blind.

Some humans freak out about the mask too
and would as soon kill you as wear one.

I can’t explain anything to them either.
The death look in their eyes terrifies me.

When I see one coming I squawk
and cross the street.

Welcome to the masquerade.
You are on your own.

—Doug Marx
*

Dear Readers:

Please 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.
We’ll end this issue with a poem that Nick Eldredge wrote. It hangs on his wall as a reminder…

¡Gracias!

Juanito

YARD SALE
sat & sun 9 to 4
everything I know
must go
slightly used certainties
preowned philosophies
refurbished realities
bargains galore

peace, love, happiness & understanding 9/3/20
2020-09-03 - 2020-09-09
After The Winter’s Tale at Two Rivers prison in 2014: Ashley Lucas and Jeffrey Sanders.
THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

September 3, 2020

Interview with Ashley Lucas

Johnny 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?

Ashley 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.

The 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.

Johnny. 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?

Ashley. 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.

Johnny. 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?

Ashley. 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).

I 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.

I 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.

Johnny. 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?

Ashley. 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.

Johnny. 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?

Ashley. 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.

My 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!
You can also order directly from the publisher’s website: https://www.bloomsbury.com/us/prison-theatre-and-the-global-crisis-of-incarceration-9781472508416/.

Note 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:

https://us02web.zoom.us/j/82169567543

I hope you’ll join us!

And 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.

I 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.

peace & love

—Johnny

peace, love, happiness & understanding 8/27/20
2020-08-27 - 2020-09-02
THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding
August 27, 2020

Meditation & Mindfulness

And 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:
Neither shall they say, Lo here! or, lo there! for, behold, the kingdom of God is within you.

—Luke 17: 20-21, King James Version
*

The 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.
*

“…Our blessedness, like His, is infinite.
His glory endless is and doth surround
And fill all worlds without or end or bound.
What hinders then but we in Heaven may be
Even here on Earth did we but rightly see?”

—Thomas Traherne (1636-1674), from “Thoughts—IV”
*

To 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.
*

Going 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.

—Pico Iyer, from The Art of Stillness
*

Walt Whitman spoke to his friend Ellen O’Connor of his ability to stop thinking at will, and to make his brain “negative”:

There is that in me—I do not know what it is—but I know it is in me….
I do not know it—it is without name—it is a word unsaid,
It is not in any dictionary, utterance, symbol.

—Walt Whitman, from “Song of Myself”
*

I 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:

when you see how simple it is to be happy
you’ll kick yourself
for spending so much time being miserable

—Johnny Stallings, from everything I touch
*

Nautilus 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”:

Early Morning Hours

From the house silence flows
to the ebony lawn
glittering like a river.
A small candle flickers,
mirroring the moon
sliding down night’s curve.
Fir branches stand against the sky,
the hours’ tall sentinels,
and the hum inside silence
fills each shadowed crevice,
the world inundated.

—Deborah Buchanan
*

The 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.
*

Ask the world to reveal its quietude—
not the silence of machines when they are still,
but the true quiet by which birdsongs,
trees, bellworts, snails, clouds, storms
become what they are, and are nothing else.

—Wendell Berry from Given
*

Why 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:

Unrestrained 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.

—Aldous Huxley, from The Perennial Philosophy
*

What is mindfulness? Thich Nhat Hanh says:

Mindfulness 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.

—Thich Nhat Hanh, from Your True Home, #218

He’s fond of saying: “The present moment is a wonderful moment.”
*
Kim Stafford sent this:

Finding Deep Calm

I 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.
I 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.
But 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:

عظيمٌ 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 ..”
— غوتة

I 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:

Great 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.
– Goethe

I 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.

—Kim Stafford
*

People who live in prison who want to participate in the Open Road Meditation and Mindfulness Project can write to me at this address:

Johnny Stallings
The Open Road
PMB 268
4110 SE Hawthorne Blvd.
Portland, OR 97214

People 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).
*

Meditation and mindfulness can be very simple. Hafiz says:

And at times, when we really need to know
something about perfection

the movement of your breath might do, or the
beating of our hearts.

—Hafiz (1320-1389), version by Daniel Ladinsky
*

Seng Ts’an says:

when the mind is still
all views disappear

and

empty, clear, your light shines
without mental effort

–Sent Ts’an (529-606 A.d.)

peace, love, happiness & understanding 8/20/20
2020-08-20 - 2020-08-26
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.

THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

August 20, 2020

Kim 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:

Practical Illusions

When I lose track of time, I feel free
for a little while. And when I feel free,
I can tackle the impossible. I can break
a miracle down to a series of steps,
so magic begins to enter, beauty intrudes,
then I’m in thrall to curiosity and wonder,
friendship with the future returns, and all
my regrets fill a basket of quirky souvenirs.

I’ve lived in exile from joy, daunted by
mortality, taking what they call a realistic view
by counting up my hours and days of failure.
There’s no shortage there, and I’m expert
on musing, dwelling, brooding on my losses.
But then the turning comes as I lean close in
to creation, something out of nothing. It begins
with surrender to anything I love to do.

—Kim Stafford
*

Last year, about this time, I wrote this poem:

Kim Stafford, Ace Reporter

he carries a tiny notebook around with him
ever on the alert
looking, listening
words are spoken, inspiration strikes, events unfold
he takes out his little notebook, jots things down
he’s collecting all the latest news
later, he will file his next report—
What’s Going On Here On Planet Earth

–Johnny Stallings
*

Katie responded to Aaron Gilbert’s letter in last week’s issue of “peace, love, happiness & understanding”:

This 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.

—Katie Radditz
*

On 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:

september 8, 2019

¡howardito!

nancy is with her mom this weekend, so i went out to two rivers by myself yesterday
i 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
then i told them that october 5th will be my last day facilitating the dialogue group
carl alsup (brutus) told me what a big impact i have had on the lives of many men there
then stuart morton (cassius) got the bright idea that we should go around the circle and everyone should say something to me
(this is a thing we’ve done a few times
i got the idea from jack kornfield
the chosen person listens while everyone says what they most admire, etc., about him
i think it can be a kind of medicine for people who are suffering from feelings of worthlessness, et cetera)
anyhow, they really gave me the full treatment
when you were here you said that you can’t take a compliment
i don’t know, but i think 40 minutes of something like this would overcome your resistance and do something to you
just thinking about the experience is making me cry
it 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
to feel loved and to love
for many of the men, and for me, this represents a profound change in the way we experience our human life on earth
it’s a gift we have given to each other
well, that’s about it for now

jake merriman is coming over shortly
the men report that during the final performance he cried through the whole play
which gladdens my heart

peace, love & happiness
juanito
*

Walt Whitman said:

This minute that comes to me over the past decillions,
There is no better than it and now.
*

I 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:

Who wishes to walk with me?

The 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.

Thomas Traherne (1636-1674) said this about a defect in his university education:

“There was never a tutor that did professly teach Felicity, though that be the mistress of all other sciences.”

(Thomas Traherne, from Centuries of Meditations, Third Century, number 37)
*

May all people be happy.
May we live in peace & love.

—Johnny

peace, love, happiness & understanding 8/13/20
2020-08-13 - 2020-08-19
Aaron Gilbert as Sir Toby Belch in Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night (Two Rivers prison, 2011)

THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

My mind started to blossom…

August 13, 2020

Recently I suggested to Aaron Gilbert that he might write about what he’s learned about love while in prison. This is what he wrote:

July 26, 2020
Dear Johnny

….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.

Before 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.

I 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.

For 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.

The 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.

This 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.

I 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?

Maybe 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….

Love & Respect
Aaron G.
*

Aaron 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.)

It 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.”

Kim taught a poetry class at Coffee Creek prison. And wrote a poem about it:

Poetry Class
at the Women’s Prison

Put chairs in a circle. “Where
is everyone?” “Oh, they’re all
watching ‘Love after Lock-Up.’
It’s fake, but addicting.”

On every chair, put a notebook
and a pen. “You know what?
In this class I’m not an inmate,
I’m a person.” “Every time

that door opens, and another
joins our circle, we’re stronger.”
“It’s not so much what we write —
it’s how we listen.” Finally, the show

over, the room resonant,
we are the full twelve writing
in a ring, as onto scribbled pages
we bow to pray hard stories.

—Kim Stafford
*

Here’s a poem that Katie Radditz shared:

A Blessing

Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl’s wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.

—James Wright

peace, love, happiness & understanding 8/6/20
2020-08-06 - 2020-08-12
THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

August 6, 2020

Some Thoughts On Culture That Nurtures

All 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.

If 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.

There 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.

Sometimes we need consolation:

Consolation

Darwin.
They say he read novels to relax,
But only certain kinds:
nothing that ended unhappily.
If anything like that turned up,
enraged, he flung the book into the fire.

True or not,
I’m ready to believe it.

Scanning in his mind so many times and places,
he’d had enough of dying species,
the triumphs of the strong over the weak,
the endless struggles to survive,
all doomed sooner or later.
He’d earned the right to happy endings,
at least in fiction
with its diminutions.

Hence the indispensable
silver lining,
the lovers reunited, the families reconciled,
the doubts dispelled, fidelity rewarded,
fortunes regained, treasures uncovered,
stiff-necked neighbors mending their ways,
good names restored, greed daunted,
old maids married off to worthy parsons,
troublemakers banished to other hemispheres,
forgers of documents tossed down the stairs,
seducers scurrying to the altar,
orphans sheltered, widows comforted,
pride humbled, wounds healed over,
prodigal sons summoned home,
cups of sorrow thrown into the ocean,
hankies drenched with tears of reconciliation,
general merriment and celebration,
and the dog Fido,
gone astray in the first chapter,
turns up barking gladly
in the last.

—Wisłowa Szymborska
*

I 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.

Kirk Bromley shared this poem with Howard Thoresen, who sends it to all of us:

The Tuft of Flowers

I went to turn the grass once after one
Who mowed it in the dew before the sun.

The dew was gone that made his blade so keen
Before I came to view the levelled scene.

I looked for him behind an isle of trees;
I listened for his whetstone on the breeze.

But he had gone his way, the grass all mown,
And I must be, as he had been,—alone,

‘As all must be,’ I said within my heart,
‘Whether they work together or apart.’

But as I said it, swift there passed me by
On noiseless wing a ‘wildered butterfly,

Seeking with memories grown dim o’er night
Some resting flower of yesterday’s delight.

And once I marked his flight go round and round,
As where some flower lay withering on the ground.

And then he flew as far as eye could see,
And then on tremulous wing came back to me.

I thought of questions that have no reply,
And would have turned to toss the grass to dry;

But he turned first, and led my eye to look
At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook,

A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared
Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared.

I left my place to know them by their name,
Finding them butterfly weed when I came.

The mower in the dew had loved them thus,
By leaving them to flourish, not for us,

Nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him.
But from sheer morning gladness at the brim.

The butterfly and I had lit upon,
Nevertheless, a message from the dawn,

That made me hear the wakening birds around,
And hear his long scythe whispering to the ground,

And feel a spirit kindred to my own;
So that henceforth I worked no more alone;

But glad with him, I worked as with his aid,
And weary, sought at noon with him the shade;

And dreaming, as it were, held brotherly speech
With one whose thought I had not hoped to reach.

‘Men work together,’ I told him from the heart,
‘Whether they work together or apart.’

—Robert Frost
*

Here’s a poem Kim Stafford sent our way:

The Fact of Forgiveness

It is a given you have failed.
It goes without saying you were hurt
and so you hurt some others.
Of course you alone could have saved someone
or something you did not.
The midnight court of the sleepless mind
has reached its verdict: Life Sentence.
Life will be long and hard, but also mysterious
in how you are condemned to live
by beauty all the same.
Through the bars of your cell, you must watch
the moon grow full and generous.
A tune made for others will arrive at evening,
smuggled into your mind as if for you.
The world can’t keep its treasures from you—
no matter how little you deserve,
you have it all:
Moon, Sun, Sleep, Waking, Water, Air—
a bird dancing away out of sight
leaving the print of its flight
and a filament of song
for you.

—Kim Stafford
*

Kim’s poem reminded me of this passage from Shakespeare:

Hamlet: What have you, my good friends, deserved at the hands of Fortune that she sends you to prison hither?
Guildenstern: Prison, my lord?
Hamlet: Denmark’s a prison.
Rosencrantz: Then is the world one.
Hamlet: A goodly one, in which there are many confines, wards and dungeons. Denmark being one o’ th’ worst.
Rosencrantz: We think not so, my lord.
Hamlet: 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.
Rosencrantz: Why then your own ambition makes it one; ‘tis too narrow for your mind.
Hamlet: 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.

That’s it for now.

May all people be happy.
May we live in love.

–Johnny

peace, love, happiness & understanding 7/30/20
2020-07-30 - 2020-08-05
Cartoon by Gary Larson

THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

Oh no! Not another Humor Issue!

July 30, 2020

A three-legged dog walks into a bar and says: “I’m lookin for the man who shot my paw.”

Why did the hipster burn his mouth?
He drank his coffee before it was cool.

I told my wife she was drawing her eyebrows too high.
She looked at me surprised.

I got my daughter a fridge for her birthday.
I can’t wait to see her face light up when she opens it.

What did the pirate say when he became an octogenarian?
Aye matey.

A sandwich walks into a bar. The bartender says, “Sorry, we don’t serve food here.”

Why did the yogurt go to the art exhibition?
Because it was cultured.

How do you throw a space party?
You planet.

What did one hat say to the other?
You stay here. I’ll go on ahead.

A 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.
*
A 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.”
The 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.
“What did I tell you?” said the barber. “That kid never learns!”
Later, 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?”
The boy licked his cone and replied: “Because the day I take the dollar the game is over!”
*
An 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.
The businessman then asked, “But what do you do with the rest of your time?”
The 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.”
The 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.”
The fisherman asked, “But how long will this all take?”
To which the businessman replied, “Fifteen or 20 years.”
“But what then?”
The 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.”
“Millions? Then what?”
The 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.”
*
A guy said to God, “God, is it true that to you a billion years is like a second?”
God said, “Yes.”
The guy said, “God, is it true that to you a billion dollars is like a penny?”
God said, “Yes.”
The guy said, “God, can I have a penny?”
God said, “Sure, just a second.”
*
A string bean took his friend, an eggplant, to the hospital.
String Bean: How is he, Doc? Can you save his life?
Doctor: 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.
*
Two young salmon are swimming along one day. As they do, they are passed by a wiser, older fish coming the other way.
The wiser fish greets the two as he passes, saying, “Morning, boys! How’s the water?”
The other two continue to swim in silence for a little while, until the first one turns to the other and asks, “What’s water?”

—“Borrowed” from the Internet and joke books by Johnny Stallings
*
One 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.
She read, “…. and so Chicken Little went up to the farmer and said, “The sky is falling, the sky is falling!”
The teacher paused, then asked the class, “And what do you think that farmer said?”
One little girl raised her hand and said, “I think he said: ‘I’ll be darned! A talking chicken!’”
—Will Weigler
*

For 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.):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PQmrmVs10X8

May all people be happy!

Johnny

peace, love, happiness & understanding 7/23/20
2020-07-23 - 2020-07-29
THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

July 23, 2020

“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.”

(The Journals of Ralph Waldo Emerson, edited by Linscott, pp. 197-198, (1841))
*

Battle or Picnic?

Life 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.

The 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.

We 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.

I 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!”

And 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.”

It’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.

Since 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?

In the UNESCO Constitution, signed in November of 1945, it says: “…wars begin in the minds of men…” We should choose our metaphors wisely.

—Johnny Stallings (11/14/19)
*

Naomi Shihab Nye really goes to town with metaphors in this poem:

Sifter

When our English teacher gave
our first writing assignment of the year,
Become a kitchen implement
in 2 descriptive paragraphs, I did not think
butcher knife or frying pan,
I thought immediately
of soft flour sifting through the little holes
of the sifter and the sifter’s pleasing circular
swishing sound, and wrote it down.
Rhoda became a teaspoon,
Roberto a funnel,
Jim a muffin tin
and Forrest a soup pot.
We read our paragraphs out loud.
Abby was a blender. Everyone laughed
and acted giddy, but the more we thought about it,
we were all everything in the whole kitchen,
drawers and drainers,
singing teapot and grapefruit spoon
with serrated edges, we were all the
empty cup, the tray.
This, said our teacher, is the beauty of metaphor.
It opens doors.
What I could not know then
was how being a sifter
would help me all year long.
When bad days came
I would close my eyes and feel them passing
through the tiny holes.
When good days came
I would try to contain them gently
the way flour remains
in the sifter until you turn the handle.
Time, time. I was a sweet sifter in time
and no one ever knew.

—Naomi Shihab Nye
*

Howard Thoresen has often recommended to me the book Metaphors We Live By by George Lakoff and Mark Johnson.

Jeff Kuehner sent a couple poems:

The Panther

His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars; and behind the bars, no world.

As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.

Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
lifts quietly—. An image enters in,
rushes down through the tensed, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone.

—Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926), translated from the German by Stephen Mitchell
*

There Will Come Soft Rains

(War Time)

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white,

Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree
If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

—Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
*

Here’s a link to a short (12 minutes) film on “Sacred Economics” featuring Charles Eisenstein:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EEZkQv25uEs

That’s it for this issue of “peace, love, happiness & understanding.” Tune in next week for another exciting episode.

—Johnny Stallings

peace, love, happiness & understanding 7/16/20
2020-07-16 - 2020-07-22
Three amigos bringing in the New Year at Alma del Sol in Guanajuato, Mexico: Johnny Stallings, Hugo Anaya & Kim Stafford.

THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

July 16, 2020

I 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.”
*

To Be a Better Person
My 100 poetry events as Oregon’s 9th Poet Laureate

When 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.”

That’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.

I 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.”

As 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.

The 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.

Now 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.

In 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:

Dew & Honey
Sip by sip in thimble cup
the meadow bees will drink it up
then ferry home to bounty’s hive
by flowers’ flavor hum and thrive
to show us how through word and song
by gesture small and patience long
in spite of our old foolish ways
we may fashion better days.

So, my friend, come sip and savor
syllables as crumbs of pleasure.
By sunrise, in our conversations,
we begin a better nation.

—Kim Stafford
*
Before 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:

Two Rivers

One river flows above ground—
everyone can see it shining
across the land, following the valley
and shaping the valley, never at rest.

And some people say, I know who
you are…I know what you’ve done…
what you lost…where you came from…
where you are going. I know.

But what do they know of you, really?
For another river flows below all that,
invisible, at the speed of a dream
inside you—intuitive, curious, innocent.

And you say, I know who I want to be…
I know what I’ve learned…I know what I love…
I need to know who I really am. So you remember,
you wonder, you write, you shape story,

and you say to yourself on the page,
Hidden river, spill your secrets
at the wellspring. I hold forth
my cup no one else can see.

—Kim Stafford
*

The ending of his poem reminds me of this brief quote from Sylvia Plath:

So 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.

—Sylvia Plath
*

In the spirit of Kim’s essay, here’s some life advice from Walt Whitman:

This 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.

from the preface to the 1855 edition of Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman
*

Recently, 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:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aekb3ppKm5w&t=480s

I 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:

It is the poet’s job to turn fact into food, loss into learning, and pain into song.

The poet’s work is to be the Eric Snowden of the inner life: All shall be revealed.

All a writer can do is compose clues to what can never be spoken, footnotes to the inexpressible.

A poet’s remedy for myriad troubles: Cook up a feast of words, and see what you learn.

Like a bird lifting from a twig, the poet steps away from all freight. Even as you plod the road, your soul is in flight.

A poet’s work is to compose a filmed parade of images with a sound track of percussive words.

Poetry is the moonlight of the interior life—waxing and waning, causing the soul to flood and ebb.

Everyone 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.

—Kim Stafford
*

And he sent some quotes from other poets:

The 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.

—Jane Kenyon
*

Poetry 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.

—Mary Oliver
*

Want to take workshop from Kim? Go to his website, click on workshops, and sign up for one. Here’s the link:

www.kimstaffordpoet.com
*

I 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:

Everything 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.

—Susan Griffin
*
That’s it for now, y’all. Until next time…

—Johnny

peace, love, happiness & understanding 7/9/20
2020-07-09 - 2020-07-15
THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

July 9, 2020

love is a place
& through this place of
love move
(with brightness of peace)
all places

yes is a world
& in this world of
yes live
(skilfully curled)
all worlds

—e.e. cummings
*

Can I see another’s woe,
And not be in sorrow too?
Can I see another’s grief,
And not seek for kind relief?

Can I see a falling tear,
And not feel my sorrow’s share?
Can a father see his child
Weep, nor be with sorrow filled?

Can a mother sit and hear
An infant groan, an infant fear?
No, no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!…

—from “On Another’s Sorrow” by William Blake
*

Lonnie 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:

Dear Johnny

In 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.
He 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.
We 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.
With 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.
While 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.
I 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.
Although 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.
Lee 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.
Then 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.

—Lonnie Glinski
*

I 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:

Consoletti, 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.

I 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.”

But 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.

Nick 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.

His 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!

In 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.

Inspired 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.

—Johnny Stallings

peace, love, happiness & understanding 7/2/20
2020-07-02 - 2020-07-08
THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

July 2, 2020

This is a simple story I tell myself about our human life on Earth. We start out as perfect innocent beings. Then something happens to us. We become “adulterated.” We learn to think and talk. We learn and co-create stories about who we are and about the world in which we live and our relation to it. We become grownups. Which is great. But. We are now stuck with our stories, which we repeat over and over. We have lost much of the spontaneous joy and wonder we had when we were very small. And the maps we have made of the world, though useful and even necessary, are an extreme over-simplification—(like this one)—of our life.

But that is not the end of the story. Once we have achieved something like “well-adjusted normal,” we want more. We want a life rich in meaning. We want happiness! Love! We want to live in such a way that we bless each day, that our life gets better and better as it goes along, until we are amazed at what a miracle it all is.

Here are two of William Blake’s poems of innocence:

Infant Joy

“I have no name:
I am but two days old.”
What shall I call thee?
“I happy am,
Joy is my name.”
Sweet joy befall thee!

Pretty joy!
Sweet joy but two days old,
Sweet joy I call thee:
Thou dost smile,
I sing the while,
Sweet joy befall thee
*

Laughing Song

When the green hills laugh with the voice of joy,
And the dimpling stream runs laughing by;
When the air does laugh with our merry wit,
And the green hill laughs with the noise of it;

When the meadows laugh with lively green,
And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene,
When Mary and Susan and Emily
With their sweet round mouths sing “Ha, Ha, He!”

When the painted birds laugh in the shade,
Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread,
Come live & be merry, and join with me,
To sing the sweet chorus of “Ha, Ha, He!”
*

But then something happens to these innocent children:

The School Boy

I love to rise in a summer morn
When the birds sing on every tree;
The distant huntsman winds his horn,
And the sky-lark sings with me.
O! what sweet company.

But to go to school in a summer morn,
O! it drives all joy away;
Under a cruel eye outworn,
The little ones spend the day
In sighing and dismay.

Ah! then at times I drooping sit,
And spend many an anxious hour,
Nor in my book can I take delight,
Nor sit in learning’s bower,
Worn thro’ with the dreary shower.

How can the bird that is born for joy
Sit in a cage and sing?
How can a child, when fears annoy,
But droop his tender wing,
And forget his youthful spring?

O! father & mother, if buds are nip’d
And blossoms blown away,
And if the tender plants are strip’d
Of their joy in the springing day,
By sorrow and care’s dismay,

How shall the summer arise in joy,
Or the summer fruits appear?
Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy,
Or bless the mellowing year,
When the blasts of winter appear?
*

The GARDEN of LOVE

I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen:
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
And “Thou shalt not” writ over the door;
So I turn’d to the Garden of Love
That so many sweet flowers bore;

And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tomb-stones where flowers should be;
And Priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys & desires.
*

Here’s William Wordsworth’s account:

Ode on Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore;—
Turn wheresoe’er I may,
By night or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
The rainbow comes and goes,
And lovely is the rose;
The moon doth with delight
Look round her when the heavens are bare;
Waters on a starry night
Are beautiful and fair;
The sunshine is a glorious birth;
But yet I know, where’er I go,
That there hath past away a glory from the earth.
Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
And while the young lambs bound
As to the tabor’s sound,
To me alone there came a thought of grief:
A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
And I again am strong.
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep,—
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong:
I hear the echoes through the mountains throng.
The winds come to me from the fields of sleep,
And all the earth is gay;
Land and sea
Give themselves up to jollity,
And with the heart of May
Doth every beast keep holiday;—
Thou child of joy,
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy
Shepherd-boy!
Ye blesséd Creatures, I have heard the call
Ye to each other make; I see
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
My heart is at your festival,
My head hath its coronal,
The fulness of your bliss, I feel—I feel it all.
O evil day! if I were sullen
While Earth herself is adorning
This sweet May-morning;
And the children are culling
On every side
In a thousand valleys far and wide
Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
And the babe leaps up on his mother’s arm:—
I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
—But there’s a tree, of many, one,
A single field which I have look’d upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone:
The pansy at my feet
Doth the same tale repeat:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting;
The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting
And cometh from afar;
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing Boy,
But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,
He sees it in his joy;
The Youth, who daily farther from the east
Must travel, still is Nature’s priest,
And by the vision splendid
Is on his way attended;
At length the Man perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of common day…
*

This is about the first third of Wordsworth’s poem. For the complete poem, click this link:

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45536/ode-intimations-of-immortality-from-recollections-of-early-childhood

He is sad that he has lost something that he vividly remembers having as a child: “There hath past away a glory from the earth.” William Blake and Thomas Traherne were able to find it, or something like it, in the later part of their lives. Here is Thomas Traherne’s poem “Innocence,” along with a link:

Innocence

But that which most I wonder at, which most
I did esteem my bliss, which most I boast,
And ever shall enjoy, is that within
I felt no stain, nor spot of sin.

No darkness then did overshade,
But all within was pure and bright,
No guilt did crush, nor fear invade
But all my soul was full of light.

A joyful sense and purity
Is all I can remember;
The very night to me was bright,
’Twas summer in December.

A serious meditation did employ
My soul within, which taken up with joy
Did seem no outward thing to note, but fly
All objects that do feed the eye.

While it those very objects did
Admire, and prize, and praise, and love,
Which in their glory most are hid,
Which presence only doth remove.

Their constant daily presence I
Rejoicing at, did see;
And that which takes them from the eye
Of others, offer’d them to me.

No inward inclination did I feel
To avarice or pride: my soul did kneel
In admiration all the day. No lust, nor strife,
Polluted then my infant life.

No fraud nor anger in me mov’d,
No malice, jealousy, or spite;
All that I saw I truly lov’d.
Contentment only and delight

Were in my soul. O Heav’n! what bliss
Did I enjoy and feel!
What powerful delight did this
Inspire! for this I daily kneel.

Whether it be that nature is so pure,
And custom only vicious; or that sure
God did by miracle the guilt remove,
And make my soul to feel his love

So early: or that ’twas one day,
Wherein this happiness I found;
Whose strength and brightness so do ray,
That still it seems me to surround;

What ere it is, it is a light
So endless unto me
That I a world of true delight
Did then and to this day do see.

That prospect was the gate of Heav’n, that day
The ancient light of Eden did convey
Into my soul: I was an Adam there
A little Adam in a sphere

Of joys! O there my ravish’d sense
Was entertain’d in Paradise,
And had a sight of innocence
Which was beyond all bound and price.

An antepast of Heaven sure!
I on the earth did reign;
Within, without me, all was pure;
I must become a child again.

–Thomas Traherne

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45414/innocence.)

Here’s what Hamlet had to say. I’ve used it in a previous newsletter (4/23/20), but, hey!, some things are worth reading more than once. Hamlet knows intellectually that the world is beautiful and people are glorious, but he just can’t feel it:

Hamlet.
I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth, foregone all custom of exercises, and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame the earth seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o’erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire—why it appears nothing to me but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors. What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god, the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals—and yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me. No, nor woman, neither.
*

I have the nutty idea that every child is an incarnation of the Divine. Recently, I had the good fortune to meet Zak and Rina’s daughter Nina, who was born on May 6th. She proved once again—(like every baby I’ve ever met)—that Augustine was wrong. We are born in innocence, not in sin. Our job is to welcome each new arrival on this planet and to co-create a culture that nurtures their well-being.

—Johnny

peace, love, happiness & understanding 6/25/20
2020-06-25 - 2020-07-01
THE OPEN ROAD
peace, love, happiness & understanding

June 25, 2020

Jon Roush sent this poem:

If I can stop one Heart from breaking
I shall not live in vain
If I can ease one Life the Aching
Or cool one Pain

Or help one fainting Robin
Unto his Nest again
I shall not live in Vain.

—Emily Dickinson
*

A short time after I got the poem from Jon, I got a letter from Josh Underhill (5/30/20). He seems to be thinking along the same lines as Emily. After some preliminaries, here’s what he had to say:

I am not sure if I agree with your words “I don’t feel like I have much influence on the world, but I create my world…” I do however agree each of us lives and creates our world from moment to moment and we choose whether or not to live in hell or paradise. Because I believe that, and you seem to also, our own moment to moments, and our own choice in living in hell or paradise I believe influences the world. Everything we do from moment to moment, our hell or paradise, all has a ripple effect in the world. Even a smile to someone passing on the sidewalk may transform their day, causing them to not flip-off the car that cuts them off that would have ended up in a road rage and loss of life. You can not say you haven’t changed our lives in Group Dialogue, changed our world, and in that changed the way we address the world, in turn changing the world of those around us, our friends and families. The ripple effect. I have something on this subject that I’ll see if I can find to include with this letter, which maybe you can put in an upcoming newsletter. We all on this world are connected, interdependent of one another and without others around us changing the world, our world withers and dies. So see, everything you do influences the world.
The thing that scares me about this belief is those things done in wrong or hurt, what many of us are guilty of, and has sent some to prison for. Those things we each have done, what ripple effect did it have on the world? That is something I will not get into right now, and in some ways don’t want to think about. Guess that’s the choice of living in hell or paradise.

Josh appended this quote to his letter:

The life that I touch for good or ill will touch another life, and that in turn another, until who knows where the trembling stops or in what far place and time my touch will be felt.

—Frederick Buechner
*

After reading Josh’s letter, I wondered what exactly I had written to him (4/20/20). Here are a few excerpts:

It’s a beautiful Spring day today. We have bright yellow goldfinches and bright red house finches flying around our back yard. I enjoyed your quote from Mr. Shin about being present to what you are doing in the moment. Moments are important. We are so busy thinking about the past and imagining the future that we need to be reminded to pay attention to where we are and to what’s happening within us and around us….
For me, meditation and mindfulness have been very helpful for my well-being. My mind is not as noisy as it once was. I can easily find my way to what I call “The Golden World….”
Have you finished reading Ishmael yet? The stories we tell ourselves shape the world in which we live. This is true individually and collectively. When we change our stories, we change our world—and to some extent we even change the world. I don’t feel like I have much influence on “the world,” but I create “my world” from moment to moment, and whether I live in a paradise or in a hell is more-or-less up to me. Outside factors impinge on my happiness, but how I process my experience and knowledge makes a big difference in whether I am enjoying my life or am miserable.
Ishmael is about the stories we have been telling ourselves collectively that have brought us to a situation where we are destroying the ecological health of our beautiful planet. In order to live in ways that are not so destructive, we will need new stories.
William Blake said: “every thing that lives is Holy.” That’s a good start.
May all people be happy.
May we be peaceful and at ease.
May we be well in body and mind.
May we live in love.
*
When I wrote to Josh to ask his permission to publish excerpts from our exchange of letters in this newsletter, he said “yes,” and asked me to also include some things I wrote (6/9/20) in reply to his letter. I’m including a couple sentences in square brackets, although Josh, who is modest, didn’t ask me to :

Everything has a ripple effect—good things and bad things. The Big World—what I was calling “the world”—has a LOT of forces in play. I think there are way more good deeds than bad deeds being done right now everywhere in the world. Basically, people are good and want to be helpful to each other. The good deeds are often subtle, like the example you gave, of smiling at someone as you pass on the sidewalk. But the wrong and hurtful things that you mention in your letter sometimes create more of a wave than a ripple….
A man in our dialogue group who was serving a life sentence once said that he could never undo the deed or make amends to the loved ones of the person he killed. He said he hoped that by living a good life, he would be able to help so many people that in the balance, at the end of his life, the good would outweigh the bad….
I think it is wise of you not to dwell on the negative ripples that went out from what you’ve done in the past…. Shame and guilt don’t help you or anyone else….
[You have nurtured and strengthened what is best in you—your kindness and generosity, your thoughtfulness toward others. You are living the life of a good man, and that not only benefits others with a ripple effect, it benefits you every hour of every day of your life….]
Be kind to yourself. Don’t engage in negative self-talk. Don’t put yourself down or belittle yourself. Don’t engage with shame or guilt. Don’t dwell in the past. Love everyone!—including Josh Underhill. That beautiful innocent person you were when you were three years old is still who you are in essence. You are worthy to love and be loved.
Yes, there are ripple effects that result from our negative thoughts and actions. But your job and my job is to:
Accentuate the positive,
Eliminate the negative,
Latch on to the affirmative,
And don’t mess with Mr. In-Between!
*

(Note: Josh and I and other actors sang this Johnny Mercer song together after one of the plays we did at Two Rivers prison.)

Let’s close with more Emily:

A letter is a joy of Earth —
It is denied the Gods —

&

The Infinite a sudden Guest
Has been assumed to be —
But how can that stupendous come
Which never went away?

—This issue was co-edited by Josh Underhill & Johnny Stallings
