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SUMMARY:Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue 11/15/20
DESCRIPTION:Drawing by Charles Erickson \n  \nOpen Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue \n  \nNovember 15\, 2020 \n  \nWelcome to our third meditation and mindfulness dialogue! The numbers below refer to passages from the book Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh. (JS) \n* \n  \nM & M Dialogue Group\, \n  \nI regret that I have not opened my copy of Your True Home to start reading the wisdom within\, nor that I have not written sooner in response to and for the M & M newsletter. As we all know\, things seem to get in the way and/or we make excuses\, but something happened yesterday that moved me to embark on something. I reached my one year mark\, 365 days until I get released\, and so I will read one wisdom each day\, completing the 365 pages of the wisdom within\, realizing “My True Home.” \n  \nIn the book\, I believe I will find that\, as #1 says—“Your True Home is in the here and the now. It is not limited by time\, space\, nationality\, or race”—although I have 365 days until I go home physically\, my true home is not limited by time or space\, those 365 days. My true home is here and now within me. It is also like that saying\, “The home is where the heart is\,” and my heart\, and love\, is within me. As long as I keep love within me\, my home will be in the here and now. \n  \nMy 365 days until release started yesterday\, October 14th\, so I also today read #2\, One Hundred Percent. Although I look forward to reading #365—notice I did not write the heading name\, as I have not looked forward in the book to that final day—I also have thoughts of my life after these 365 days are over\, but I am still in the here and now. “Be there truly. Be there with 100 percent of yourself.” I can only take one day at a time\, it’s all any of us can do. \n  \nI look forward each day to reading a new wisdom from the book\, growing and finding a deeper meaning in life and within myself. With the added benefit of seeing the bookmark move closer to the end of the book\, signifying my physical release home. To all of you reading M & M Dialogue newsletter\, may peace\, love and happiness be with you and within you. \n  \n—Josh Underhill \n* \n  \nResponding to a couple of comments from the October newsletter: Johnny posits two seemingly dichotomous versions of “nirvana.” Either it can be accessed by a few rare souls who practice for many lifetimes; or it is an omnipresent perfect moment that is accessible to anyone who takes a moment to look for it. I wish to endorse a middle ground. Using one of the Buddha’s many definitions of Nirvana (and exercising a certain amount of editing): \n  \n“The practitioner may attain such a concentration…that the practitioner has realized the complete cessation of greed\, hate\, and delusion…Nirvana is realizable even during this lifetime.” \n  \nHistorically\, hundreds of thousands of people achieved Nirvana during the same generation\, and maybe they number in the millions across the generations. So\, not so rare. \n  \nBut to Josh Barnes’ point\, this state of mind seems very elusive. Omnipresent perfect moment though it may be\, we have trained ourselves to see only imperfection. We can thank popular media\, our parents\, their parents for countless generations\, society at large\, and most especially our own selves for our preoccupation with imperfection. But there you have the problem\, we have to untrain some old habits before we can “awaken” to the perfection around us. Venerable Thay describes this at #1\, the namesake passage for YTH. \n  \n—Shad Alexander \n* \n  \nI’m happy that Shad responded to what I wrote about nirvana in the October dialogue. I was hoping that this meditation and mindfulness dialogue would evolve into more of a dialogue as it goes along. Unsurprisingly\, his perspective is a little different than mine. I don’t know. I imagine that the word “nirvana\,” like words tend to do\, means different things to different people. For me\, one of the lovely things about meditation\, is that when we sit in silence\, we leave words aside for a while. When there is inner stillness\, when thought and language fall away\, we have no disagreements—not even friendly ones. For a time that has nothing to do with time\, we have no problems\, no explanations\, no wrong views or right ones. No greed\, hate or delusions. Whatever you call this\, it’s quite a pleasant state of affairs. When we begin the day this way\, the whole day somehow goes better. I think of “mindfulness” as the practice of living in meditation—to the extent we can do this\, which changes over time and even from day to day. This dialogue is a way for us to share our experience and understanding with each other\, and to use words to point to that for which there are no words. \n  \n—Johnny Stallings \n* \n  \nI decided to change the way I am reading my copy of Your True Home. Instead of reading normally\, front to back\, I am going back to front\, because the numbers are a countdown to me being released. Looking at the book\, I will instantly know how many days I have left. \n  \nOn 10/21 I read #358 “So Many Reasons to Be Happy” \n  \nI found it refreshing. I so desire to be one with nature\, to be in the woods\, smell the fresh air and hear only nature. To touch Mother Earth and for her to touch me\, feeling her embrace. It has been way too long for me feeling pure nature\, and reading #358 at first made me feel sad for what I have been missing\, but then I read it again\, seeing that “Whenever she sees us suffering\, she will protect us.” In this moment I am in now\, she is protecting me with the knowledge that soon I will have the chance to feel the woods and her embrace once again. I cannot wait for that day. \n  \nReading #355 “Your Suffering Needs You\,” on 10/24\, reminds me that every aspect of ourselves\, whether good or bad\, needs our attention. All the good or bad within us are the things that make us\, and they all require attention. But then #350 “Goodness Is Always in You” shows us all that\, no matter the bad things we’ve done\, there is goodness within each of us. Then\, on 11/2\, I read #346 “What Separates  Us” and labels are something that hurts every one of us. Society uses labels to dehumanize and to separate us into groups\, and if we can eliminate labels there can be peace in the world. \n  \n—Josh Underhill \n* \n  \nOctober 7\, 2020  THE SUFFERING OF THOSE WE LOVE \n  \nHOLDING AN EMOTIONAL STATE WITH MINDFULNESS—WOW! That’s a lot to “ask.” Having just finished reading For Your Own Good\, I am\, also\, able to see others’ suffering more easily (than my own). Seeing\, holding\, even accepting my own suffering (a response to stimulus) and my own causes of suffering is not “easy\,” especially to do with compassion…. \n  \nMaybe I can…have some compassion for an other\, and for this other (who is the same in suffering as all others)…holding with mindfulness (of the human “condition” we all share)\, a feeling or sensation\, tied to an emotional state\, and allow space to experience the “feelings.” \n  \nOctober 8\, 2020  A LOVE LETTER \n  \nMy first thought: “How wonderful! I’d love to receive one.” In this message he speaks of transformation: first within\, then in another. That real love is required to accomplish such a task is awesome. To mend a broken relationship could take a whole life of time…. Is it so hard? No. I am often just so scared of being rejected\, turned away\, not even seen for my effort…. \n  \nOctober 15\, 2020  SELECTIVE WATERING \n  \n….I find that\, in spite of doubts\, if I maintain certain spiritual practices then I like the person I seem to be and this experience rarely seems fraught with insurmountable challenges. But\, if I let these practices all fall away completely\, even for a few weeks\, then I descend to a dark place where I don’t like “me\,” and everything is a challenge I can barely face\, let alone master; life gets really hard and suffering ensues…. \n  \nMaybe if each of us finds our path to travel on\, and focuses more on the journey—making the most of each moment\, and enjoying each moment (as best as we know and are able in that moment)—instead of any destination\, then\, maybe\, we will end (personal) suffering and enjoy the experience of life more.  \n  \nOctober 16\,  SOVEREIGN OF THE FIVE ELEMENTS \n  \n….I already have all the skills and capacity to live any life I want. I only need to live that life fully\, here\, now….I am sovereign of my existence. No one else on Earth directs this life I live in any way. My thoughts\, feelings\, words\, actions are all “mine”…. Getting still enough to experience my “true self” at the core is my goal for mindfulness practice—to get behind those ego-stories\, to see beyond those limits to reality. \n  \nOctober 19\, 2020  CENTURY OF SPIRITUALITY \n  \n….I am thankful that a spiritual life is no longer the domain of religious elites—selected\, born\, or bought into such a life. Not everyone sees this\, or desires to do so. I feel a gratitude that my life experiences have afforded me opportunity to learn this lesson and apply it in my lifetime….  \n  \nOctober 21\, 2020   THE SEEDS OF HAPPINESS \n  \nThe first paragraph is a personal reminder that I am the one (and only one) responsible for the story I tell “myself” about the experience “I” have of reality as it exists…. \n  \nI like the metaphor of life as a garden where I plant and water seeds\, pull weeds and even work to “transform” my landscaping to be whatever I choose for it to be. I have a level of control over “my” life. How I choose to exercise my control will impact my results (life experiences)…. \n  \nOctober 22\, 2020  THE ART OF MINDFUL LIVING \n  \n….I can practice being mindful at any time\, anywhere\, while doing anything. This is powerful! It is a blessing to be able to do this mindfulness thing…. \n  \nI like the idea of stopping\, from my daily hustle and bustle\, to enjoy breathing. Breathing helps me connect or remember that I am alive…. \n  \nOctober 25\, 2020  THE ENERGY OF LIBERATION from Be Free Where You Are by Thich Nhat Hanh \n  \nWhat first caught me in this talk was that anyone and everyone\, including me\, has the “seed” for mindfulness and concentration…. I don’t need a monastery\, or a special rite\, or a fancy religion. All I need to do is focus on whatever I am doing in this moment\, enjoy the breath I am blessed with\, and let the rest of the whatever drop away…. \n  \nI think that’s awesome! I have always thought it was “easy\,” but never found a way to explain it. Thây does so eloquently—probably all the years of practicing. \n  \nOctober 28\, 2020  NO BEGINNING\, NO END  #30 \n  \nOnce again\, Thây emphasizes that now is all that is and everything I need is already present\, here in and/or with me now. When I go looking out there (outside myself)—to others\, to the past\, to any possible future\, to things to places—I can never find peace\, whatever I am seeking. When I begin to turn inward\, embracing what is within me already\, I find peace\, freedom\, happiness: nirvana. It’s all right there\, just waiting for me to find it\, as it always was. \n  \nNovember 3\, 2020  THOUGHTS FROM 10/15 MINDFULNESS NEWSLETTER \n  \nI agree\, or find personal resonance\, with your thoughts on #247 NIRVANA IS NOW. Since everything I’ve learned from Buddhism is about learning to focus on and live in the “now\,” why should Nirvana be anywhere or anytime other than now? My biggest challenge in life is tied to now presence; paying full attention to the “now” I experience\, well…now. I find it very easy to get lost in past “realities” or future dreams. \n  \nI also resonate with Brandon G’s thoughts about cookie cutter life: seems deeply connected to challenge of now-presence. Before prison\, even inside\, too\, it gets easy to develop a routine (cookie cutter life) and stay in this “rut.” “It’s comfortable\,” I’ll say to self. I once had a counselor point out that a “rut” is only a grave with the ends knocked out. Cookie cutter life\, comfortable life—it’s just happy in a rut! \n  \nMichel Deforge \n* \n  \nThe Secret behind Our Strife  \n  \nI\, so sure of myself\, so ready \nto explain why I am right— \nI live in a body that will die\, and all \nmy brave words be gone to the sky.  \n  \nAnd you\, with your shouted reasons \nI am wrong\, you live in a body \nthat will fall\, be still\, be mourned \nfor the peace you might have found.  \n  \nShall you and I\, knowing this now\, \nset our strife aside\, pause our proclamations \ninto curiosity\, listening to see what we \nmight learn\, one from another? \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nWhat to say about meditation? \n  \nThanks for all the beautiful writing in the last edition! \n  \nEvery month or two I teach beginning meditation for my Zen temple. I love doing it\, but after many years I have a bit of a routine\, so last time I taught\, I thought I would go back to Dogen\, the 13th Century founder of Soto Zen Buddhism in Japan\, and see what he had to say to beginners. In vintage Dogen style\, he starts off by saying that everything is perfect and complete as it is\, so what is the point of doing some kind of practice? The Way is right here and now\, so what is the use of study\, meditation\, and other efforts to “improve”? And yet\, we know that we become distracted\, angry\, confused\, and have the feeling we have lost our way; in a word\, we suffer. We want to be free of our suffering. And we have the example of wise people we admire who practice meditation. Dogen concludes: You should therefore cease from practice based on intellectual understanding\, pursuing words and following after speech\, and learn the backward step that turns your light inwardly to illuminate your self. Body and mind of themselves will drop away\, and your original face will be manifest. If you want to attain suchness\, you should practice suchness without delay.  \n  \nI recently came across a talk by Krishnamurti that was in a similar vein. He was asking his audience\, “Why do you meditate? Why do you do this thing that various teachers from the East have said you should do? Do you have an idea you will have some extraordinary experience? Are you trying to imitate another person? Ask yourself\, why am I meditating? What is my motive?” And then he says\, “When you look deeply into your life\, when you investigate a question you really care about\, you become very quiet and completely still without any effort. Meditation arises spontaneously when you look deeply\, without fear\, without knowing what you will find.” \n  \nMeditation is not self-calming. One idea about meditation is that it came out of hunting culture. When a hunter is waiting for their prey\, they must be awake\, alert\, sensitive\, ready; the mind has to be free of distraction and the body has to be relaxed\, able to move in any direction. I mentioned this to a friend the other day and he started to imitate his cat waiting for a mouse to come out of its hole. His body became graceful\, energetic\, ready to pounce but without any tension. His eyes became focussed on the imaginary mouse-hole. The room vibrated with concentration\, energy\, and stillness. Vegetarians like myself don’t always like this idea\, but there might be something to it. \n  \n—Howard Thoresen \n* \n  \nDear Johnny\, \n  \n….What I have been thinking of a lot lately is birth and death\, rather well known topics. Anyway here are some poems that seem to fit that thinking.  \n  \nlove\, Deb \n  \nInsight \n  \nAfter we die we hover for a while \nat treetop level with the mourners \nbeneath us\, but we are not separate \nfrom them nor they from us. \nThey are singing but the words \ndon’t mean anything in our new language \n  \n—Jim Harrison \n  \nThe Old People \n  \nPantcuffs rolled\, and in old shoes\, \nthey stumble over the rocks and wade out \ninto a cold river of shadows \nfar from the fire\, so far that its warmth \nno longer reaches them. And its light \n(but for the sparks in their eyes \nwhen they chance to look back) \nscarcely brushes their faces. Their ears \nare full of night: rustle of black leaves \nagainst a starless sky. Sometimes \nthey hear us calling\, and sometimes \nthey don’t. They are not searching \nfor anything much\, nor are they much \nin need of finding something new. \nThey are feeling their way out into the night\, \nletting their eyes adjust to the future. \n  \n—Ted Kooser \n  \nIn Memory of Joseph Brodsky \n  \nIt could be said\, even here\, that what remains of the self \nUnwinds into a vanishing light\, and thins like dust\, and heads \nTo a place where knowing and nothing pass into each other\, and through; \nThat it moves\, unwinding still\, beyond the vault of brightness ended\, \nAnd continues to a place which may never be found\, where the unsayable\, \nFinally\, once more is uttered\, but lightly\, quickly\, like random rain \nThat passes in sleep\, that one imagines passes in sleep. \nWhat remains of the self unwinds and unwinds\, for none \nOf the boundaries holds — neither the shapeless one between us\, \nNor the one that falls between your body and your voice. Joseph\, \nDear Joseph\, those sudden reminders of your having been — the places \nAnd times whose greatest life was the one you gave them — now appear \nLike ghosts in your wake. What remains of the self unwinds \nBeyond us\, for whom time is only a measure of meanwhile \nAnd the future no more than et cetera et cetera …but fast and forever. \n  \n—Mark Strand \n  \nThe Hammock \n  \nWhen I lay my head in my mother’s lap \nI think how day hides the stars\, \nthe way I lay hidden once\, waiting \ninside my mother’s singing to herself. And I remember  \nhow she carried me on her back \nbetween home and the kindergarten\, \nonce each morning and once each afternoon. \n  \nI don’t know what my mother’s thinking. \n  \nWhen my son lays his head in my lap\, I wonder: \nDo his father’s kisses keep his father’s worries \nfrom becoming his? I think\, Dear God\, and remember \nthere are stars we haven’t heard from yet: \nThey have so far to arrive. Amen\, \nI think\, and I feel almost comforted. \n  \nI’ve no idea what my child is thinking. \n  \nBetween two unknowns\, I live my life. \nBetween my mother’s hopes\, older than I am \nby coming before me\, and my child’s wishes\, older than I am \nby outliving me. And what’s it like? \nIs it a door\, and good-bye on either side? \nA window\, and eternity on either side? \nYes\, and a little singing between two great rests. \n  \n—Li-Young Lee \n  \nThe Archaic Maker \n  \n          The archaic maker is of course naive. If a man he listens. If a \nwoman she listens. A child is listening. A train passes like an underground river. It enters a story. \n          The river cannot come back. the story goes on. It uses some form \nof representation. It does not really need much by way of gadgets\, apart \nfrom words\, singing\, dancing\, making pictures and objects that resemble \nliving shapes. Things of its own devising. \n          The deafening river carries parents\, children\, entire families waking \nand sleeping homeward. \n          The story passes stone farms on green hillsides at the mouths of valleys \nrunning up into forests full of summer and unheard water. \n           In the story it is already tomorrow. A time of memories incorrect \nbut powerful. Outside the windows is the next of everything. \n          One of each. \n          But here is ancient today \n          itself \n          the air the living air \n          the still water \n  \n—W. S. Merwin \n  \nOpus From Space \n  \nAlmost everything I know is glad \nto be born—not only the desert orangetip\, \non the twist of tansy; shaking \nbirth moisture from its wings\, but also the naked \nwarbler nesting\, head wavering toward the sky\, \nand the honey possum\, the pygmy possum\, \nblind\, hairless thimbles of forward\, \npress and part. \n  \nAlmost everything I’ve seen pushes \ntoward the place of that state as if there were \nno knowing any other—the violent crack \nand seed-propelling shot of each witch hazel pod\, \nthe philosophy implicit in the inside out \nseed-thrust of the wood sorrel. All hairy \nsaltcedar seeds are single-minded \nin their grasping of wind and spinning \nfor luck toward birth by water. \n  \nAnd I’m fairly shocked to consider \nall the bludgeonings and batterings going on \nconinually\, the head-rammings\, wing furors\, \nand beak-crackings\, fighting for release \ninside gelatinous shells\, leather shells\, \ncalcium shells or rough\, horny shells. Legs \nand shoulder\, knees and elbows flail likewise \nagainst their womb walls everywhere\, in pine \nforest niches\, seepage banks and boggy \nprairies\, among savannah grasses\, on woven \nmats and perfumed linen sheets. \n  \nMad zealots\, every one\, even before \nbeginning they are dark dust-congealings \nor pure frenzy to come into light. \n  \nAlmost everything I know rages to be born\, \nthe obsession founding itself explicitly \nin the coming bone harps and ladders\, \nthe heart-thrusts\, vessels and voices \nof all those speeding with clear and total \nfury toward this singular honor. \n  \n—Pattiann Rogers \n  \n—Deborah Buchanan \n* \nNovember 12\, 2020 \nMeditation and Mindfulness \n  \n#9  I Have Arrived \n#44  We Already Have Enough \n#130  Appreciating Simple Joys \n  \nThese three principles express what my heart has followed for most of my life. I have been unaware of ‘wanting more\,’ or ‘needing more\,’ even though there were many lean years when I could have felt that. But here they are! All expressed far more lucidly than I have ever been able to explain them\, or defend them to others\, so I am grateful to Thich Nhat Hanh for that. \n  \nA few examples: When I married my first husband\, we didn’t have a ring\, so I used a friendship ring that a high school girlfriend had given me. She got it in Mexico and it cost about $1.00. I liked it. Bill kept asking when we were going to get a ‘real’ ring. I told him I was fine\, that I liked this ring just fine. He said\, “Boy\, you are low maintenance!” And from then on his nickname for me was\, “LM.” \n  \nExample #2: I had a large piece of art in a gallery exhibit in Portland. The title was\, “Affordable Pleasures.” At the gallery opening\, a man of considerable means was admiring it\, and he chuckled and said\, “Ah\, I get it. You have to have a lot of money to afford this\, right?” In consternation I said\, “Well\, no. It refers to the subject matter; the broken reflection of the moon on the water. Looking at the moon on the water is an affordable pleasure for everyone.” He said\, dismissively\, “Oh well\, whatever. I’ll buy it!” I said\, “No. You won’t.” \n  \nExample #3: My dad assiduously pruned and raked and composted everything. He had half a dozen magnificent compost piles. Fluffy\, friable\, fragrant piles\, each was about 6-8 cu. yds. He named them after composers (not composters). My all-time favorite Christmas present was the W. A. Mozart Memorial Compost Pile. \n  \nMy second favorite Christmas present was from my daughter’s boyfriend; about two dozen cleaned\, washed\, dried\, smoothed out sheets of aluminum foil that he had saved for me from his noontime deli sandwiches. He knew that I used and reused aluminum foil for years\, and this was his very thoughtful gift to me. \n  \nI have never been very big on ‘goals\,’ or ‘progress\,’ or ‘consumption.’ I have simple\, but innumerable pleasures: Raisins on my cereal\, stars in an inkwell black sky\, nuzzling my dog’s fur\, singing\, planting\, smell of fir needles in the sun\, deer munching on my dahlias\, cooking\, Goodwill\, art\, hiking\, the seasons…all of them. \n  \nTo me there is a distinction between pleasures and joy. Pleasure is the ripples of water on the surface. Joy is the deeper down\, abiding current. Pleasure is the hot\, bright\, snappy flame of a fire. Joy is the quiet\, calm but intense\, slowly glowing embers below. \n  \nSo again\, my thanks to Mr. T. N. Hanh (if I may call him that) for helping me express these thoughts. I don’t know if I could have done it without his guidance with these three principles. \n  \n—Jude Russell  \n* \n  \n[See drawing of elephant and sphere at the top.] \n  \nAbstract idea/concrete image. Both at once between sleep and waking. \n  \nI woke and found this present in mind and made a drawing quickly before it faded away. \n  \nThe sphere was\, simply\, everything. The elephant was God. \n  \nWhen I was drinking coffee later\, I added fancy titles from out of my memory: \n“All and Everything\,” title of a favorite book\, for the sphere; \n  \nand “That which is Other than All that Is\,” for the elephant; a memory from  my time at college fifty years ago\, when I read what a theologian had written about God as “radically other.” \n  \n—Charles Erickson \n* \n  \nThank you\, everyone! \n  \nThat’s a wrap for our third Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue. If you enjoyed it\, please send me something for the December 15th issue. You can use Your True Home or anything else for inspiration. Feel free to respond to something that someone wrote in any of our dialogues\, including this one.  Share a poem you wrote\, or a poem that someone else wrote that you like. Or whatever thoughts might be wandering through your mind. \n  \n(If you go to the EVENTS page on this website and click on “Previous Events\,” you can find our September and October dialogues.) \n  \nMay all people be happy. \nMay we live in peace & love. \n  \n—Johnny Stallings
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/meditation-mindfulness-dialogue-11-15-20/
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DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20201126
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20201210
DTSTAMP:20260503T102007
CREATED:20201126T183717Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20250718T121541Z
UID:1504-1606348800-1607558399@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  11/26/20
DESCRIPTION:  \n  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nNovember 26\, 2020 \n  \n  \ni thank You God for most this amazing \nday:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees \nand a blue true dream of sky;and for everything \nwich is natural which is infinite which is yes \n(i who have died am alive again today\, \nand this is the sun’s birthday;this is the birth \nday of life and love and wings:and of the gay \ngreat happening illimitably earth) \nhow should tasting touching hearing seeing \nbreathing any-lifted from the no \nof all nothing-human merely being \ndoubt unimaginable You? \n(now the ears of my ears awake and \nnow the eyes of my eyes are opened) \n  \n—e. e. cummings  (1894-1962) \n* \n  \nGiving thanks. There’s nothing more important. It’s the difference between living in Heaven or Hell. Something so simple. And yet\, some people’s brains accidentally got programmed to complain. I usually start the day by noticing the miraculousness of everything\, without exception\, and then…feeling grateful. Every day a day of thanksgiving. \n* \n  \nPoetry \n  \nAnd it was at that age … Poetry arrived \nin search of me. I don’t know\, I don’t know where \nit came from\, from winter or a river. \nI don’t know how or when\, \nno they were not voices\, they were not \nwords\, nor silence\, \nbut from a street I was summoned\, \nfrom the branches of night\, \nabruptly from the others\, \namong violent fires \nor returning alone\, \nthere I was without a face \nand it touched me. \n  \nI did not know what to say\, my mouth \nhad no way \nwith names\, \nmy eyes were blind\, \nand something started in my soul\, \nfever or forgotten wings\, \nand I made my own way\, \ndeciphering \nthat fire\, \nand I wrote the first faint line\, \nfaint\, without substance\, pure \nnonsense\, \npure wisdom \nof someone who knows nothing\, \nand suddenly I saw \nthe heavens \nunfastened \nand open\, \nplanets\, \npalpitating plantations\, \nshadow perforated\, \nriddled \nwith arrows\, fire and flowers\, \nthe winding night\, the universe. \n  \nAnd I\, infinitesimal being\, \ndrunk with the great starry \nvoid\, \nlikeness\, image of \nmystery\, \nfelt myself a pure part \nof the abyss\, \nI wheeled with the stars\, \nmy heart broke loose on the wind.  \n  \n—Pablo Neruda  (Chilean Nobel Prize-winning poet\, 1904-1973) \n* \n  \nKim Stafford sent us an approach to a daily writing practice. And some poems. \n  \nWriting as Ritual: Four Elements of a Daily Writing Page \nA chapter from a work in progress\, Writing for Happiness\, by Kim Stafford \n  \nBe the Eric Snowden of your inner life. \n  \nI had been writing for years\, by fits and starts\, when my father’s death opened a \nnew path for my life as a writer\, and as a seeker. By his last will and testament\, I \ninherited the care of his twenty thousand hand-written pages of daily writing \nfrom the 1950s through the day of his death in 1993. William Stafford’s writing \npractice had been invisible to me when he was alive\, because he rose before \ndawn to write\, and I did not. All through childhood\, I would see the literary \nmagazines where his poems were published appear on the coffee table — Crazyhorse\,  \nPoetry\, Cimarron Review — and every year a book or two would come forth. When people  \nwould ask him\, “Bill\, when is your next book coming out?” he would often answer\, “Which  \none?” \n  \nHow did he do that? Simple: he wrote something every day\, and his books \nwere made from about one day’s writing out of eight that he found worthy. \nA few weeks after my father died\, I started to carry the reams of his scribbling \ndown from the attic\, and leaf through his pages one by one. His scrawl was a \nchallenge\, and I sometimes needed a magnifying glass to examine the tangle of \nferal words to tease the meaning forth. But overall\, I began to see four elements \nin his practice that worked together in a way both practical and mystical. \n  \nI want to consider what my father’s daily writing pages contained\, and how \nthey worked for him — and how something like his approach might work for any \nof us who choose to give such daily writing practice a try. His pages\, which are \nnow housed in the William Stafford Archives at Lewis & Clark College\, exhibit a \nvarying daily mixture of four prevailing elements: \n  \n1. Each page begins with the date. Is that even worth mentioning? Well\, it turns out to be strangely helpful — in the act of writing\, and of course for keeping track of the writings. “Once I write the date on a piece of paper\,” he said once\, “I know I’m okay. I have made it to my writing.” This is the “open sesame” move of the daily writing practice\, for by jotting the date down on a page\, you have accomplished the most difficult first step: you have shown up\, and you have begun. The pen is active before any wisdom is required\, and you have stepped humbly into what William Stafford called “the realm where miracles happen.” \n  \n2. Then\, often\, the page would begin with some prose notes from a recent experience\, a few sentences about a connection with friends\, an account of a dream. This short passage of “throwaway” writing\, it turns out\, is very important\, as it keeps the pen moving and gets the mind sniffing along through ordinary experience. I call this stage “the boring prose.” You are beginning the act of writing without needing to write anything profound. No struggle\, no effort\, no heroic reach. Just writing. \n  \n3. Then there will sometimes be an “aphorism” — a freestanding sentence\, an idea\, a question\, a note about a pattern he perceived\, a puzzle. With the aphorism\, as we call it in his pages\, William Stafford would write a sentence that “lifted off” from daily experience to observe an emblem of thought\, a truth\, an idea\, or a private joke. (“It still takes all kinds to make a world\, but there is an oversupply of some.”) This provisional understanding from daily life begins to raise the writer’s attention out of the mundane into the gently miraculous realm of poetry. It is your own koan. \n  \nThe aphorisms in William Stafford’s daily writing rarely become part of the poem to follow (though a few of his poems are built from a series of such lines). Most often\, they are little wonders left to resonate as private treasure\, threshold\, key. A bell has been struck\, bringing the writer to attention. \n  \n4. Then he would write something like a poem… or notes toward a poem… or just an exploratory set of lines that never became a poem. Sometimes there might be a single line of lyric mystery. But he had taken a few steps up the ladder from silence in the general direction of song. \n  \nTo write the date\, some prose\, an idea\, and then poetic lines beyond prose — this can begin a process for distilling from ordinary experience the extraordinary report of literature. For this day\, again\, you have given yourself a chance to discover worthy things. Nothing stupendous may occur … but if you do not bring yourself to this point\, nothing stupendous will happen for sure … and you are likely to spend the balance of your day in reaction to the imperatives of the outer world — worn down\, buffeted\, diminished\, martyred. \n  \nWilliam Stafford’s use of these four elements is capricious. Many pages\, especially in his later years\, show only the date followed by a poem. His long practice has speeded the process. And even in his early years\, he can go many days without preliminary prose or aphorism—or he can jot a series of aphorisms as if he has been saving them to record in a rush. \n  \nMost of us do an assignment shortly before it is due. (That’s often true for me.) It’s better to begin the project when it’s first assigned\, not when it’s due. And\, I realize\, again and again\, it’s even better to practice self-directed searching\, writing\, thinking on the page — when there is no assignment given. This empowers the free range of mind\, of “hands-on thinking.” By something like this daily practice\, you build up a personal sheaf of riches\, a democracy of inner voices\, an archive you can draw from as needed for work and pleasure over time. \n  \nMy students once said to me\, “You give us a deadline for our writing. But who gives you a deadline?” A terrible sentence came to my mind: “Death is my deadline.” There are myriad latent discoveries in me. Daily\, I must bring them forth. For this reason\, several years ago\, I made a vow to perform this four-part practice every day. What works for me is to do this four-step process first thing\, before daylight. I’ve decided to enlist all four elements each day—the date\, of course. And then there is always something to scribble about from the day before—the boring prose. And then—what now seems an essential element in the process—the aphorism. To wait for a thought\, which always appears\, given time and welcome\, is the prelude to true practice. The aphorism is the hinge that begins to turn memory to thought\, event to idea\, scribbling to design. Then a poem\, something like a poem\, notes for a poem. \n  \nThis four-step process on the page became a more mysterious form of beckoning when I learned an idea from Buddhism while traveling in Bhutan. Each place\, I learned—each experience\, each person\, each dream\, text\, encounter—may offer four ways of knowing: \n  \nthe visible \nthe invisible \nthe secret \nthe deeply secret \n  \nSo there it is again: the date—visible. A scribbled memory from the day before—the invisible\, but palpable. The thought—a secret episode of the Buddhist “unborn.” And then … then whatever mystery may come next\, a secret so deep it will not appear unless you use something like this process to welcome what you didn’t know until you do. \n  \nAs I tell my students\, if you follow this four-step process\, or something like it\, you may not compose something of lasting value every day — but it will be a better day! It will be a day that begins with your own appointment with silence\, with attention\, with welcome. Something like this structure can lift your writing into a realm of episodic discovery reaching beyond a simple journal or diary\, worthy as those habits can be. Gradually\, inexorably\, you will accumulate riches to return to\, an archive of discrete beginnings to nurture on the path of your devotions. \n  \nBased on the legacy of William Stafford\, as explored further in my own practice\, I offer this four-part daily writing ritual as a kind of hands-on meditation. And with this pattern\, I propose a year of daily exploration founded in your own version\, as it evolves\, of this daily practice. What will it be like to experience the kind of sustained and sustaining life of writing you have long imagined? \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nWhile many have been locked down at home\, what’s it like to be homeless\, to watch the already fragile future dissolve\, your landmarks of support and certainty vanish? Here’s a poem for anyone feeling adrift in the face of change. I hope you can support programs that help those currently living outside… \n  \nMy Sheltering Sky \n  \nWhen I was born\, when I was helpless\, there were stars \nAbove me blue in their midnight galaxy. \nWhen I was hurt\, there were scars no one could see. \nWhen I was growing\, the sun was dimmed for me \nBy killing silence where there should have been a song. \n  \nDid you hear a song when you were young\, \nA chorus that sang your name with love? \nHow many little ways were you reminded of \nYour worth\, your chance\, your path to rise above \nYour struggles\, a way to feel that you belong? \n  \nOne night by the river when I couldn’t sleep \nFor streetlights glittering the water dark\, \nI looked above my troubles where I saw a spark\, \nAnother world\, a guide\, a star to mark \nMy destination far beyond my pain. \n  \nOn that shore I felt there was fatal door \nI could step through into waters cold \nTo quench my life before I got too old \nIn sorrows\, hard tomorrows\, I could fold \nMy arms and plunge into the deep. \n  \nBut then I looked above it all and saw \nMy shelter\, my sky where stars were calling \nAnd I felt that I was falling up instead of down\, \nAnd I wore some kind of crown \nThat gave me my ticket to the dawn. \n  \nNow I find there’s work\, and worth\, and wonder. \nThough I know my sorrows won’t be completely gone\, \nSomeone helped me carry on and find \nA wealth in heart and mind \nThat helps me know I finally belong. \n  \nFor I looked above it all and saw \nMy shelter\, my sky where stars were calling \nAnd I felt that I was falling up instead of down\, \nAnd I wore some kind of crown \nThat gave me my ticket to the dawn. \n  \n  \n Poetry Doctor \n  \nHow do you feel? \nHow\, exactly\, have you \nlearned to feel — to be  \ntouched\, to apprehend? \nThese twinges you have —  \nof compassion\, empathy\, pain —  \nhow long have you had them? \nHave they grown more intense \nwith age? Do they manifest at  \nsunset? At dawn? In the presence \nof beauty? Of suffering? \nDoes your heart ever skip? \nDo you ever feel dizzy \nwith delight or shame? Has  \nthe grace of a few right words  \never blurred your vision? Caught \nyour breath? Has your heart \never become a drum when  \na song’s words told you \nwho you are in secret?  \n  \nI’m afraid my diagnosis  \nmust remain incomplete  \nwithout further tests:  \nNeruda\, Dickinson\, Basho. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \n“Peace\, love\, happiness & understanding” will be bi-weekly from now on. The next one will come out on December 10th. See you then! \n  \npeace\, love & gratitude \n  \nJohnny
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-11-26-20/
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DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20201201
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20201215
DTSTAMP:20260503T102007
CREATED:20201202T222744Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20250426T170243Z
UID:1526-1606780800-1607990399@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:Hsin Hsin Ming by Seng Ts'an
DESCRIPTION:hsin hsin ming \nby seng ts’an \n  \nthe great way is not difficult \nit has no preferences \n  \nwhen love and hate are absent \nall becomes clear \n  \nmake the smallest distinction \nand heaven and earth are far apart \n  \nif you want to experience it \ndon’t be for or against anything \n  \nconflict between liking and not liking \nis the disease of the mind \n  \nif its deep meaning is not understood \nwe strive in vain to quiet the mind \n  \nit is perfect like vast space  \nnothing lacking\, nothing left over \n  \naccepting and rejecting \nwe can’t see the essence \n  \ndon’t get entangled in outer things \nor abide in inner emptiness \n  \nwhen the mind is still \nall views disappear \n  \ntrying to quiet the mind \nis just more activity \n  \ncaught in duality \nhow can you know oneness? \n  \nwhen unity is not understood \nboth activity and quietude are failures \n  \nif you deny the reality of things\, all things are lost \npursue emptiness and you stray even further from it \n  \nthe more talking and thinking \nthe farther you go from what is \n  \nstop talking and thinking \nand there’s nothing you can’t understand \n  \nreturn to the root and find meaning \nfollow appearances and lose the source \n  \nlook within for just a moment \nand go beyond appearance and emptiness \n  \nchanging appearances in this empty world \nseem real due to ignorance \n  \ndon’t seek truth \njust let go of your views \n  \ndon’t remain in duality \ntake care never to go that way \n  \nchoosing this or that \nthe mind is lost in confusion \n  \nduality comes from the one \nbut don’t be attached to the one \n  \nwhen the mind is still \nthe ten thousand things do not offend \n  \nwhen things don’t affect you\, they cease to exist \nno thought\, no mind \n  \nwithout an object of thought\, there can be no thinking subject \nwithout a thinker\, there are no things \n  \nthings are things because of the mind \nthe mind is the mind because of things \n  \nif you want to understand mind and world \nsee them as ultimately one emptiness \n  \nin this emptiness the two are one \nit contains everything \n  \ndon’t distinguish between coarse and refined \nand you won’t be for this or against that \n  \nthe great way is vast \nto live in accord with it is neither easy nor hard \n  \nthose with narrow views are full of doubt and fear \nthe more they hurry\, the slower they go \n  \nclinging has no limit \nwe go down the wrong path \n  \nin accord with nature \nnothing comes or goes \n  \nfollowing our nature\, we are in harmony with the way \nwandering freely\, without a care \n  \nfixed ideas can’t encompass what is true \nthey sink into darkness\, become unhealthy \n  \ndon’t trouble your mind \nwhy shun this and desire that? \n  \nif you want to take the one vehicle \ndon’t reject mental or sensory experience \n  \nto accept everything  \nis to be enlightened \n  \nthe wise man does nothing \nthe fool shackles himself \n  \nthe dharma has no distinctions \nthey come from our foolish attachments \n  \nseeking the mind with the mind \nisn’t that a big mistake? \n  \nillusion creates concepts like tranquil and disordered \nillumination destroys liking and disliking \n  \nall pairs of opposites \nare created by our ignorance \n  \ndreams\, illusions\, flowers in the air \nwhy bother trying to grasp them? \n  \nprofit and loss\, right and wrong \nget rid of them once and for all \n  \nif the eyes don’t close in sleep \nall dreaming ceases naturally \n  \nif the mind makes no discriminations \nthe ten thousand things have one essence \n  \nunderstanding the mystery of one suchness \ndifficulties are forgotten \n  \nsee all things as equal \nand all will return to naturalness \n  \nno descriptions or analogies are possible \nof this state where relations have come to an end \n  \narrest motion\, and motion ceases \nmove stillness and stillness is gone \n  \nwhen dualities are abolished \nhow can there be one? \n  \nin the end\, things are ultimately \nnot subject to law \n  \nfor the unified mind in harmony with the way \nall striving ceases \n  \nall doubts are cleared up \nestablished in right intuition \n  \nnothing remains \nthere’s nothing to remember \n  \nempty\, clear\, your light shines \nwithout mental effort \n  \nthought can’t reach this \nbeyond knowing\, imagining\, feeling \n  \nin the realm of things as they are \nthere is no self or other \n  \nif you want to approach and enter it \njust say “not two” \n  \nwhere there are not two\, all is the same \nthere is nothing that is not included \n  \nthe wise of all times and places \nenter into this source \n  \ntruth cannot be increased or decreased \none moment\, ten thousand years \n  \nno here\, no there \nthe whole world right before our eyes \n  \nthe tiny is as large as the vast \nwhen boundaries are gone \n  \nthe vast is as small as the tiny \nwhen there are no limits \n  \nwhat is\, is not \nwhat is not\, is \n  \nany other view \nmust be abandoned \n  \none thing is all things \nall things are one thing \n  \nwhen you’ve understood this \nthere’s no need to worry about not being perfect \n  \nthe stable mind is nondual \nintuition and mind are not two \n  \nbeyond words \nno past\, no future\, no now \n  \n  \n–version by johnny stallings \n  \nsome notes: \nThe Hsin Hsin Ming is the earliest known Zen writing. Seng Ts’an is the Third Zen Patriarch. He lived in China from 529 to 606 AD. The First Zen Patriarch was Bodhidharma\, who lived in the 5th or 6th Century\, and is credited with bringing Zen (or Chan) Buddhism to China from India. \nThe origin of Zen Buddhism is the Buddha’s Flower Sermon. One day the Buddha held up a white flower. Mahākāśyapa realized enlightenment\, and smiled. \nThe first Zen text comes a thousand years later. \nThe “great way” referred to in the opening verse is the Chinese word “tao\,” which also stands for ultimate reality in Taoism. The “it” in verses 4\, 6\, 7 & 14\, also refers to the Tao. \nTranslating Chinese is problematic. I am not a scholar of classical Chinese. I’ve made this version as accurate and clear as I can by consulting many English translations. \nI hope you find it helpful in your meditation and mindfulness practice. \n  \nMay all people be happy. \nMay we live in peace & love. \n  \n–Johnny \n 
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/hsin-hsin-ming-by-seng-tsan/
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BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20201203
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20210131
DTSTAMP:20260503T102007
CREATED:20201202T231009Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20201205T193845Z
UID:1541-1606953600-1612051199@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:COLLISION REPAIR: Jake Scharbach at Froelick Gallery
DESCRIPTION:Sisyphus\, Titian 1548\, painting by Jake Scharbach\, oil on canvas\, 60″ x 48″\n  \nDear Friends of the Open Road \n  \nNancy’s nephew\, Jake Scharbach\, has a show at the Froelick Gallery from December 1\, 2020 – January 30\, 2012. \nHere’s a link to the exhibit: \n  \nhttps://privateviews.artlogic.net/2/1cdd977e49691fb0c6d57e/ \n  \nIf you live in the Portland area\, be sure to see the show! Froelick Gallery is open by appointment\, Tuesday – Saturday\, from 11 am to 5:30 pm. \n  \nHere is a link to a conversation with Jake about his art: \n  \nhttps://youtu.be/cbVVcRRxU2A \n  \npeace & love \nJohnny
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/collision-repair-jake-scharbach-at-froelick-gallery/
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BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;TZID=America/Los_Angeles:20201206T150000
DTEND;TZID=America/Los_Angeles:20201206T170000
DTSTAMP:20260503T102007
CREATED:20201205T190417Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20201205T191037Z
UID:1550-1607266800-1607274000@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:Bibliophiles Unanimous! MYTHOLOGY with Will Hornyak  12/6/20
DESCRIPTION:On Sunday\, December 6th\, storyteller Will Hornyak will lead a lively Zoom conversation about MYTHOLOGY at 3 pm. Don’t miss this!!! Here’s the link: \n  \nhttps://us02web.zoom.us/j/82169567543 \n  \nInto the Mythic! \n     The world’s oldest stories are like venerable ancestors whose voices still speak\, offering insights and strategies for dealing with  contemporary issues and predicaments. Because myths describe great times of upheaval and change\, they are especially relevant to us during times of radical change in our own world.  Storyteller Will Hornyak will consider some ideas from mythologists Lewis Hyde\, Joseph Campbell\, Martin Shaw and Michael Meade about the vital nature of mythology and a “mythic sensitivity” to the world.  We’ll discuss how various myths have shaped our lives and our own personal connection to mythology.
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/bibliophiles-unanimous-mythology-with-will-hornyak-12-6-20/
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BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20201210
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20201224
DTSTAMP:20260503T102007
CREATED:20201210T215757Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20250718T122134Z
UID:1565-1607558400-1608767999@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  12/10/20
DESCRIPTION:  \n  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nDecember 10\, 2020 \n  \n  \n  \n \nAristotle and Phyllis by Rick Bartow \n  \n  \n \nCharles Erickson \n  \n  \n \nAndrew Larkin \n  \n  \n \nHugo Anaya \n  \n  \n \nfrom Jake Scharbach’s sketchbook \n  \n  \npeace & love \n  \nJohnny \n  \n  \n  \n  \n 
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-12-10-20/
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BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20201215
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20210115
DTSTAMP:20260503T102007
CREATED:20201216T011440Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20201216T011440Z
UID:1614-1607990400-1610668799@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue 12/15/20
DESCRIPTION:Open Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue \n  \nDecember 15\, 2020 \n  \nWelcome to our fourth meditation and mindfulness dialogue! The numbers below refer to passages from the book Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh. (JS) \n* \n  \nDear M & M Dialogue\, \n  \nGreetings to all the mindful ones and those learning the art of being mindful. And don’t worry if you are new to mindfulness\, even the ones who have been practicing mindfulness for awhile are still learning to be mindful. \n  \nI am no expert in mindfulness\, but reading a message a day from Your True Home has been a wonderful experience and ritual\, which in itself has brought me joy and mindfulness. Then Johnny suggested that I journal my thoughts\, feelings and whatnot on my daily reads\, so I have started doing just that\, which has brought me a new level of mindfulness and joy. \n  \nAt first I thought I would have little to say\, if anything at all\, for most of the daily messages\, but I have found that to be a wrong assumption. Some of them are only one or two lines\, although I try to keep them short in order to be sure I get my point across and so that others can understand what I’m saying. Anyway\, here are a few excerpts from my journal: \n  \n10/25/20  #354 The Energy of Love: Love yourself! Without that first\, there can be no true love in your life. You cannot love another\, nor they love you without truly loving yourself first. This reminds me of a saying I found that takes today’s love and yesterday’s suffering (10/24/20  #355 Your Suffering Needs You) and puts them together. \n  \n“To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering\, one must not love. But then\, one suffers from not loving. Therefore\, to love is to suffer; not to love is to suffer; to suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love. To be happy\, then\, is to suffer\, but suffering makes one unhappy. Therefore\, to be happy\, one must love or love to suffer\, or suffer from too much happiness.” (By unknown.) \n  \nOnce you have mastered self-love\, love of another will find you and satisfy your need to be loved. To master that will make not only them happy\, but you will be happy too. I’d rather suffer with love than suffer without love\, and suffering from too much happiness sounds wonderful to me. \n  \n10/27/20  #352 No Enemy\, No Savior: I honestly struggle with the meaning of the words “self” and “nonself.” Does it mean self is like yourself and nonself is like other people? I that is the case\, I think of neither. We are all part of humanity. There is no self or nonself\, there is one. One planet\, one society\, one humanity\, one human race\, and one love which is love for all. \n  \nThat is it for me this month. I could write more\, but Johnny said he can’t publish all my journal entries\, as he has to leave room for others. Upon my release\, I plan to loan my journal to Johnny to read and publish the entries he sees merit in. Peace\, love and happiness to you all. \n  \n—Josh Underhill \n* \n  \n(Michel is keeping a meditation journal on an almost daily basis. He sent a treasure trove of meditations. Here are the first three of twenty. Hopefully\, we’ll be able to do a special edition of the Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue that features more of Michel’s meditations.) (JS) \n  \nNovember 5  AWARENESS OF BODY \n  \nThây spoke first of sitting meditation; which reminds me of Zen—always the “sitting\,” “just sitting” (shikantaza). I’ve been told that this act of simply sitting (or sitting simply?) is the foundation of all mindfulness practice. While this may be true\, I found value and calm from sitting. In the Zen class here at TRCI\, pre-COVID\, that is what I experienced: sitting for no reason but to just sit (simply). I often struggle to make time for this in-cell. A book\, recently gifted to me\, talks about healing past traumas through several steps; the first involves an awareness of body. The author’s idea is that one effect of childhood trauma (no matter the intensity/severity) is the disconnect from body awareness. There are times when I would rather not be so aware of this body’s goings on. There are other times when I wish I could be more tuned-in to what is happening with my body. I guess I’ll be thankful for the times I am aware—pay more attention—and learn to “lean in” to the less aware times: hoping that paying attention when I’m more aware will leak over and affect the not-so-aware times. The body is always present. It is easy to become numb or ignore whatever is being experienced as common. I think by not being mindful of the “common” it is more challenging to become (or be) mindful for the extra-ordinary. It looks like I access the parts of life I think I’m missing out by paying better attention to the ordinary ones. \n  \nNovember 6  CONSTANT TRANSFORMATION \n  \nIMPERMANENCE: Thây’s first word today. Ouch! One of my biggest life challenges has been accepting the reality of change—nothing in my world can conquer impermanence\, it’s all subject to change at some point in some way (even if it is just how I “see” it). I used to hate change. I still am not very fond of it; changes have often caught me unawares and have seemed to my small mind like “BIG” upheavals and trauma in life. \n  \nAs I review my history: the problem was my efforts to fight for permanence\, resisting entropy. Maybe\, one day\, there will occur a major change\, where we all get nirvana\, paradise\, heaven\, or whatever\, and this place of “perfection” might be permanent. I am beginning to wonder if that would be “good.” I recall a saying Jake and Sara used with us last year on Julius Caesar: “‘Perfection’ is boring.” It’s true. For my experience to be “alive” it has to be imperfect\, mutable\, transient\, “impermanent.” The alternative is a kind of “Groundhog Day” sort of life\, where it is always the same\, predictable\, “Boring!” It is hard for me to not desire to be “safe.” Predictable is safe. Reliable seems safe. Change is not\, because I may not know something\, or how to do something. So\, I’m weak. I’m vulnerable. I’m not safe. That place can be scary and difficult to live in\, without some level of fear (“concern”). \n  \nLearning to be comfortable with “me” and what I can do helps\, as I learn to be comfortable with IMPERMANENCE. Thây had two more words which stood out for me today. Within each\, separately or together\, I may find an answer: SELFLESSNESS\, INTERDEPENDENCE. (hmmm….) \n  \nNovember 9   THE GREAT INSIGHT \n  \nI like\, and I’m even attracted to the idea that we all can become a buddha—fully enlightened being. Further\, while “becoming\,” we are all already Bodhisattvas on the journey; aiding and benefitting others’ journey. I am also aware\, and like the idea\, that we are all already buddhas and have only to discover the buddha within. Both of these line up in agreement\, as the second describes what I see/understand as the journey. Isn’t that always the challenge?: Getting out of the way of reality as it is\, not as ego (“I”) tells a story to convince the self that reality is something totally different. I see ego as the source of duality and suffering—the idea of a separate “self” identity. I don’t have confirmation (complete)\, but this seems to be a portion of the truth. \n  \n—Michel Deforge \n* \n  \n“Teaching is not done by  teaching alone. It is done by how you live your life My life is my teaching. My life is my message.”  Thich Nhat Hanh \n  \nThis is not in the book Your True Home\, but it is by TNH\, and when I read it I thought of my parents.  \n  \nMy parents lived the life they loved. They hiked and backpacked and climbed mountains; they played the violin\, viola\, piano and harpsichord\, and welcomed twice weekly chamber music gatherings in our home. They read for hours everyday; the library and bookstores were constant haunts. And art\, all the time. They were nerds. They caused me constant embarrassment as a teenager. \n  \nOver dozens of years my mother took in friends of theirs and friends of ours who were struggling in life – for weeks\, months\, sometimes years. This was often to our young and selfish consternation: “Why do the Jacksons have to come again for Thanksgiving? Their kids always have snotty noses!”  \n  \nEvery two months\, my mom and dad donated blood. “Why in Heaven’s name wouldn’t we?” my puzzled mother mused.  \n  \nThere were vegetable gardens and flower gardens and small tree farms. I smacked my lips waiting for blueberry pie\, then watched as my mom picked and gave away our entire crop most years. “What about your own family’s needs?” we whined. Dad joined in on that one\, but he also grew and gave away every fir seedling he nurtured to Christmas tree size. One year he said\, “Don’t worry\, I’m planting a new crop and I’ll make sure to save you one.” Good luck\, he was 90 years old at the time. \n  \nSo their lives were their teaching. There was no didactic teaching\, no conscious ‘modeling’ to achieve ‘results’ in their daughters. They just lived life with passion and dedication.  \n  \nOf course now I donate blood every two months\, and am hitting 150+ units drained from my system\, having started when I was 18 yrs. old. (“Why in Heaven’s name wouldn’t I?” when someone asks me why.) And hiking\, backpacking and wildflowers are my passion. I have huge gardens so I can give away baskets of golden raspberries and strawberries\, and yes\, blueberries. I grow way too many peonies and iris so I can cut huge bouquets to give away. I read\, read\, read\, and do art\, art\, art.  \n  \nAnd if I’m not mentoring\, tutoring\, or otherwise being engaged in connection with others not like me\, I am at a loss for meaning in my life. \n  \n—Jude Russell \n* \n  \n138   I Think\, Therefore… \n  \nThis insightful page has inspired my Yoga routines lately! When I do this form of Yoga\, I treat it like meditation. For me\, it’s been a struggle my whole life to just “sit there” and not “be” with so many things constantly on my mind. It’s been nice to just be in the moment and focus on form\, breathing and not everything else. For me to truly be there in that moment I cease all those fleeting thoughts for those 30 minutes every other day. Then\, when I’m done\, I enjoy the practice so much I begin doing stretches while practicing mindfulness. This has become my favorite part of my days lately\, and it’s very peaceful. I encourage everyone to\, at the very least\, stretch and practice just being. \n  \n—Jeff Kuehner \n* \n  \nWandering Thoughts \n  \nMy friends\, I must be honest. I have written this paper six times over! \n  \nI started out writing about good and evil\, page 156. Setting out\, I had in mind an ideal of vanquishing good\, evil and the universal duality….But I lost! \n  \nDuality has successfully wriggled its little fingers into every last nook and cranny; it won’t be going anywhere soon. And after thwarting my attempts at the highest level\, it opened my eyes. \n  \nI’ve realized my “Not Sowing Karma” theme is wrong. Let me elaborate; we all were born upon a set of scales that started to tip in one direction or the other since our birth. There will come a time when we all will make a choice to either live with balance\, or not. Without balance you can only tilt in one direction\, until eventually you fall. With balance you will never fall\, you only have to get there. Only then is there a chance of escape. Escape. Everyone seems to think there are a variety of ways to escape\, but true escape is when you live in every moment and every thing is balanced. \n  \nDuality seems to offer a reasonable solution\, and offers the key to any that seek. \n  \nCould co-existing be the harmony we seek\, could it shine light on the hidden path? The wonder of wonders keeps me wondering still… \n  \nWell guys\, those are this month’s thoughts. Let me apologize if it seems a little screwy. To be honest\, I didn’t think something that seemed so simple would really be complex. Maybe it’s both! \n  \nAhhhh\, I’ll sign off now\, before I have to re-write it all. \n  \npeace & love & everything else \n  \n—Joshua Barnes \n* \n  \nFrom Thich Nhat Hanh’s book Be Free Where You Are\, pages 37-40. \n  \nBeing able to practice mindful breathing under duress\, in an emotional state\, or any unhealthy mindset. This is most likely a life long journey of practice and patience. “An emotion is only and emotion\, we are much more than an emotion.” If we can recognize an emotion before it gets us on to becoming a wreck\, then we can put it under a mindful breathing exercise and meditate on it\, “you will see that you are strong—strong enough to withstand the storm.” \n  \nBut\, “don’t wait until you have a strong emotion to practice. If you do\, you will not remember how to practice. You have to practice now\, today\, while you are feeling fine.” \n  \nI will speak for myself. So often when an emotion arises that I don’t want to have I bury it. But what happens when there is no more room for them? \n  \nThis practice of mindful breathing to calm the storm or just wait it out without incident is the key\, for me\, to getting through many a bad day. \n  \nThere are many forms of breathing. The point I am trying to make is: let’s just take a look at what is going on in the inside of us\, grab ahold of it and examine it under a practice of mindfulness\, calm breathing\, and then maybe we can get a better understanding of what it is that makes us tick…or get ticked off. \n  \nThanks to everyone who writes in the M & M dialogue. This is fun. \n  \n—Brandon Gillespie \n* \n  \n#89 An Invitation from the Buddha \n  \nMr. Underhill\, I am really glad to hear you have started your countdown. I think that reading a passage a day is a good way to finish your set. I know you as a very good\, caring guy and I wish you all the success in the future. Never forget all you have learned these last years and the good people you have met along the way \n  \nThe first line of this—“We live in a time when everyone is too caught up in the preoccupations of everyday life\,…”—how true this is for this year! It seems everywhere we turn there is nothing but blame for this or that\, or: you don’t believe the things I believe\, so I hate you. I believe our differences should be the thing that makes us love and understand each other all the more. Our uniqueness is one of the most special gifts we have. \n  \nI think taking the time to discover who we are\, really down deep\, is the true essence of life. When we start to understand ourselves more deeply\, we can then open our eyes to the way others feel and have compassion for their ideas. We must remember that we are all brothers and sisters on this earth. It doesn’t matter what geographical location you come from\, or the shade of your skin. These things have nothing to do with a person’s character. If we could stop and tell someone hello\, give them an honest smile when we see they have a frown on their face\, or\, if you have to\, tell a corny joke. I am sure\, if the response isn’t immediate\, that they will think about it later and hopefully have a moment of joy—that some stranger would say something so stupid to them. These little things we can do for one another to me are the true nature of life. \n  \n—Aaron Gilbert \n* \n  \nThanks to everyone who wrote last month. It is very moving to read about your experience of meditation and of Thich Nhat Hanh’s writing.  \n  \nJohnny asked if I might write about some of my experiences hearing Thich Nhat Hanh speak. I have heard him several times\, but the only time I remember the content of the talk was the first time\, on the eve of the first Iraq war in 2003. He began by saying\, “Bodhisattva George Bush and Bodhisattva Sadham Hussein had a quarrel.” And in my heart I did a little bow and thought\, “You’re a better man than I am!” He explained that a Bodhisattva is responsible for many beings\, which\, certainly\, Bush and Hussein were. Thây (that’s what his students call him) said that the United States had barely begun to recover from the psychic damage of the Vietnam war\, and there we were embarking on another. He spoke about the young men\, the soldiers in both countries\, whose lives would be wounded by their experiences\, and the pain this would inflict on both countries after the war had ended. I don’t suppose he could have foreseen all the little wars to come\, including Afghanistan\, the longest war in our history; twice as long as the Vietnam war\, and counting. The other night I heard that Trump’s vaunted withdrawal of troops on the ground in Afghanistan only means that there will be more bombing\, hence less targeted violence\, hence more civilian casualties. Thây said\, “I have not practiced enough\, I have not practiced deeply enough…” and then he began a kind of litany: “you who are a teacher\, you who are a student\, you have to practice with us; you who are an artist\, you who are a filmmaker\, you have to practice with us…”and so on. This wasn’t really his talk\, which he also gave… it was his response to the news of the day.  \n  \nThây suggested that each one of us in the audience could adopt a veteran\, a young person who had been damaged by their experience of war and who could be helped to heal by being befriended. We could invite them into our homes\, break bread with them\, become real friends. I haven’t done this\, I confess\, although I have attempted to “adopt” some people who have been hurt by other circumstances of life. I’ve talked with many veterans who are on the streets\, and\, of course\, the healing is mutual. It’s not a question of one helping the other–if a connection is made one can be a friend\, even if the encounter is only for a few minutes. Johnny has embodied this approach to life as fellowship.  \n  \nThere were many other things in this talk–a lot of the breathing exercises in his book The Blooming of a Lotus were given that night. He told a story about his own war experience as a monk in Vietnam\, counting bodies of bombing victims and the song they sang about the beauty of the sky and earth to keep themselves in remembrance of the gifts of life. He talked about someone bringing him food and he said\, “I got enlightened” which is to say it awakened him to the blessing of preparing food\, serving it\, enjoying taste\, even in these circumstances. He said\, “Enlightenment is always about something. Buddhist enlightenment is about the nature of the self.” \n  \nSo what is the nature of the self? If you practice with Thich Nhat Hanh and sit quietly you see that the self is always changing. It has no permanent identity. In the image of Suzuki Roshi\, “I” is like a swinging door that comes in and goes out with the breath. A swinging door is not a fortress. It has a relative amount of importance\, but not much; certainly not enough to start a war over.   \n  \nAs I look over what I have written\, one thing that I notice is the absence of self-cultivation. Meditation is not about getting better. “Meditation” has been co-opted by the American religion of self-enhancement: we want to be better\, thinner\, stronger\, more beautiful\, wealthier\, and we also want to be smarter and calmer and wiser\, and we think of these properties as products that we can purchase for money or time. The meditation salespeople tell us that “practice” is a good tool to put in our shopping basket along with face cream and exercise and vegan or paleo diet and vitamins\, eight glasses of water\, and all the rest of it. But in Thây’s “Buddhist enlightenment” we meditate to end suffering\, to see clearly\, to meet life in all its beauty and horror as it is\, to get over ourselves and befriend our fellow creatures. We don’t need years of practice and we don’t need to cultivate special psychological states; right now in this very moment\, breathing in and breathing out\,  looking into the eyes of the veteran\, or the neighbor (who well may be a veteran) or the cashier or our partner\, we can be present\, awakened\, kind. I have arrived! says Thich Nhat Hanh; we have already arrived in our own true home.  \n  \n—Howard Thoresen \n* \n  \nMy homework for today: study my distress and dissatisfaction. Doctors\, nurses\, and therapists use this format to diagnose physical/mental ailments\, the SOAP format. Bhikkhu Analayo recommends applying the same format to our distress. Identify the problem by its (S) subjective and (O) objective components\, (A) assess the cause\, and then make a (P) plan. My problem today and every day is that I WANT THINGS TO BE DIFFERENT than they actually are. That person shouldn’t be rude. The rules shouldn’t be so arbitrary. The soup should not be so hot\, and it definitely should never be cold. The subjective is my experience of distress/dissatisfaction/discontentment. The objective\, the cause of my distress\, is my desire for things to be different. (Notice the cause is NOT the “errant” situation!) The assessment is that I really need to learn how to accept things as they are OR be more effective in making necessary changes (complaining is not changing). The plan\, using the jargon of this meditation tradition\, is the Eightfold Path\, or learning to behave differently\, shift my mental focus\, and learn to understand how the world actually works\, as opposed to how I fantasize it works. YTH #7\, 19\, and 317 relate to this. \n  \n—Shad Alexander \n* \n  \nAs I sat still this morning at my writing desk\, before turning on the light\, in the darkness and silence the weather in my mind began to clear from yesterday’s worries and conundrums\, something began to come into focus. In time\, I turned on the light\, and wrote down this thought:  \n  \nA loss is first a pang\, then a memory. Then \, by writing or telling\, it may become a story. Then\, if told with curiosity and courage\, the sorrow becomes a possession\, an element of identity\, and finally a treasure\, a smudge of wisdom. \n  \nThen\, as my habit each morning early\, I explored this thought by shaping it into something like a poem: \n  \n               Schooling Sorrow  \n  \nWhen a sorrow’s young\, it’s pure—stunned  \npang at breakup\, betrayal\, failure\, death.  \nYou weep\, rant\, brood\, slump. And then   \n  \nin the morning\, sorrow starts its epic  \njourney into memory\, becomes an island  \nin your archipelago of sufferings.  \n  \nThen\, if you are strong\, and lucky to have  \na listener—you begin to apprehend its quirks\,  \nto tell it\, shape it\, watch it grow into a story.  \n  \nAnd if you tell your story well\, with curiosity \nand courage\, it then becomes a possession\, \nand in time a treasure\, a smudge of wisdom.  \n  \nThis can be your gift\, your offering—but \nif you don’t school your sorrow into story \nit can never be your friend. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nDear Johnny \n  \nThank you for your continued support and love through all you do. I have very much enjoyed (and do continue to enjoy) your recent newsletters. Funny thing\, to me at least\, is I keep feeling like I want (almost to a need) to give you something profoundly insightful to share and lately felt at a loss\, as I’ve read so many things (in your publications) that seem to already say what I would say. So I keep trying to think of something new and exciting—still\, to no avail. Then\, recently (last week)\, not trying to think of anything\, a concept occurred to me on the subject of fate and “predestiny.” \n  \nThroughout my life I’ve pondered fate\, choice and destiny. There have been many times in my life when I’ve wondered about the “what ifs.” What if I had made a different choice at any number of crossroads in my life? Would I still be the same person with the same resolve? At times the “could have beens” seem whelming\, at best. Recently\, the idea occurred to me that maybe both fate\, that you make choice\, and predestiny both exist simultaneously. The example\, or visualization\, that came to me is that maybe life\, our experience\, is like a long\, vast river filled with twists\, turns\, smooth parts\, rapids\, falls\, obstacles\, and that our “fateful” choices steer us around or into these\, yet we still eventually arrive at the same “pre”destination\, no matter what course we take in this river. \n  \nAnyway\, it’s a concept I’ve been mulling over lately. \n  \n—Joseph Opyd \n* \n  \nI’m interested in co-creating “culture that nurtures” with you\, my friends. In #214\, “I Don’t Need These Things\,” Thich Nhat Hanh says: “…negative forces are everywhere. When you turn on the television\, for instance\, you run the risk of ingesting harmful things\, such as violence\, despair\, or fear.” Elsewhere\, he talks about “mental junk food”—ideas and images which don’t nurture us. \n  \nIt’s not possible to avoid mental junk food\, but it’s unhealthy as a regular diet. Where is healthy food to be found? Everyone gets to figure this out for themselves. I’m prejudiced\, but I think our monthly meditation and mindfulness dialogue is healthy food. Many of the people participating in this dialogue are currently living in prison—an environment which has a lot of negativity in it. Whether we are living inside or outside of prison walls\, it’s important to choose wisely what we read\, what we think about\, how we spend our time. Life is short. Each day is precious. \n  \nBecause most television fare feels unwholesome to me\, I’m trying to create my own culture\, my own world—one I want to live in. I make an effort to create an inner world that is rich in meaning\, that makes me happy\, broadens my understanding\, nurtures peace and love in my heart. For me\, certain writers are very reliable in this regard. And I’m always on the lookout for the next book that will teach me something new\, delight me\, give me a fresh perspective\, open my mind and heart. \n  \n—Johnny Stallings \n* \n  \nTo: The Open Road & all its Travelers! \n  \nHsin Hsin Ming is fantastic. It’s odd\, your choice of subject\, as this is exactly what I’ve been thinking about. \n  \nIt’s funny\, because while I’ve been trying to untangle my own gordian knot\, the answers I sought were in front of me the whole time; but\, unlike the hero in the story\, I used a different way of slicing through my knot. Though I will admit\, the process was much the same. \n  \nI believe one purpose of that story was to show that when we conform to a certain belief\, or thought process\, we are limiting ourselves\, and in doing so will only fail. \n  \nI have been limiting myself for a very long time\, but\, thankfully\, we all can change! \n  \nAs I said in my last letter\, I’ve come to the conclusion that indifference will never do. Balance\, on the other hand\, is a very different story. When using both the positive and the negative\, you allow them to cancel each other out. The same goes for weights and counterweights. This\, when done correctly\, would leave you floating happily in between\, neither drifting to one side or the other\, but in the middle…Balanced. \n  \nThe Hsing Hsin Ming said: “…Make the smallest distinction and heaven and earth are far apart…” and “…If you want to experience it\, don’t be for or against anything…” \n  \nThe only way I can see this working is by achieving balance\, and\, like I said before\, there is only one way to balance the scales. \n  \nThis led me to my next thought and another very helpful piece: “…Caught in duality\, how can you know oneness?” \n  \nYou know\, I puzzled over this for a long time\, and then\, when reading the next line\, found a wonderful answer staring up at me from the page….Unity and understanding. Two beautiful words. Unity is balance and understanding is realizing there can be no balance when striving towards any one thing alone. \n  \nI don’t think the texts are about condemning duality or escaping it\, I believe they speak of duality being the weight and counterweight\, the true keys to achieving balance\, “oneness\,” in order to escape the samsara. We are caught in duality and must make it work. Duality is in man’s nature for a reason\, and like the wise words on page three say: “…following our nature\, we are in harmony with the way\, wandering freely\, without a care…” \n  \nAnd here is where I’ll make my last stand with a final quote: “…to accept everything is to be enlightened…” \n  \nPeace & love \n  \n—Joshua Barnes \n* \n  \nToday\, December 13\, is Bodhi Day\, the Buddhist holiday that commemorates the day that the historical Buddha\, Siddhartha Gautama\, experienced enlightenment. In Thailand\, where my youngest son has lived for the past eight years\, there are numerous temples that display the key moments in the Buddha’s life in a frieze that goes around the inner walls. So that we might step into the scene along with his disciples and remember the teachings.  \n  \nI thought it would be a good time to tell the story of the Buddha’s awakening and the happiness derived from following his teachings. It may be familiar to most of you but worth hearing over and over. I have studied with Thich Nhat Hanh for many years and taught classes with Rev. Bob Schaibly. These teachings are for all; there is no reason to be a Buddhist or practice Buddhism as a religion. But it is good to know the essence of what we are talking about and to honor the original source.   \n  \nBodhi Day is observed in the Buddhist traditions in Asia from India and Japan to Thailand and Vietnam. Bodhi Day serves as a reminder of the wisdom that is naturally available to us all\, the wisdom that comes from looking deeply in the present moment\, of cultivating our minds\, and recognizing that everything is interconnected.   \n  \nSiddhartha\, was born around 530 BC. He grew up in India\, as a Prince born and raised into a wealthy family\, who lived surrounded by beautiful gardens in a spacious palace.  When he was born his parents were told that their son’s destiny was to be a great warrior or he would become a great spiritual teacher. His parents wanted him to carry on with their established life\, they wanted a warrior. Like all parents they also wanted their son to be safe and grow up satisfied. So they tried to isolate and protect him from the world and meet his every need and desire. But as he grew into his teenage years and adulthood he felt like he was imprisoned. Sound familiar!? \n  \nOne night Siddhartha and a servant went out of the palace gates into the surrounding villages.  \n  \nThey first came upon an old man who was stooped over\, using a walking stick\,  and balding.  \n  \nSiddhartha asked\, what does this mean?  His servant explained that this is Old Age.   \n  \nThey went on and came upon an ill person with sores who was in terrible discomfort.  The servant explained to Siddhartha again\, this is Illness.   \n  \nThey then came to a corpse in the road.  And Siddhartha was shocked and asked again.  \n  \nAnd his servant said\, All living things pay a price for life and this is Death.  Siddhartha was frightened by all this suffering. \n  \nThen they came upon a simple ascetic carrying a begging bowl\, who did not want anything to do with commerce and the travails of the modern world.   We too recognize this.  \n  \nSiddhartha soon decided to leave the palace and follow the path of the ascetic to see if he can find release from his fears and this suffering.   He went out into the world dressed in his servant’s clothes\, an 18 year old young man. He went in search of knowledge with this group of poor and dedicated ascetics.   He fasts to the point of exhaustion and realizes ultimately that this will not work for him.    \n  \nThe life of hedonism in a palace as a prince and a life of starvation are not giving him any more understanding about the world.  So he adopts what is called The Middle Way.    \n  \nHe sits\, determined to pay attention to what is happening.   He sits under the Bodhi tree\, meditating until he comes to some wisdom.   He overcomes all temptations after a period like 40 days and 40 nights.   He realizes enlightenment and in the moment of touching the earth he takes it as his witness.   He finds that concentrating on our breath we can be happy in the present moment.  One of his most important teachings is about calming the mind so that we are not overwhelmed by our emotions of fear and anger.  From that day on he started teaching the eight-fold path to inner peace.  \n  \nCompassion and understanding are what comes from mindfulness and meditation  and the practice of looking deeply at our and others’ suffering.  Compassion then can come about and one can move from being to acting without being overcome.  Without compassion fatigue.  This story is related to the western story of the Good Samaritan who helped another without worrying about the consequences from the rules of his religion or culture.   \n  \nThe Buddha in his enlightenment came up with an eight-fold path to follow for living with awareness and happiness for ourselves and others. The essence of the teachings are based on the  five remembrances of the human condition that is a reality for each of us:  \n\nI am of the nature to grow old.\n\nOh how we try in vain to keep our youthful looks.  We even find it hard to believe we are not still our younger selves when we look in the mirror.  Even in our seventies we can feel close to those young adult years.   \n\nI am of the nature to become ill.  \n\nIf we live a healthy life we often feel it is not fair if we get sick\, as though it was a justice issue. We all will become ill as life goes on. \n\nI am of the nature to die.     \n\nThis is something live most of our lives in denial about.  In our culture especially we keep death hidden away.  \n\nEverything that I care about will pass away.\nThis is the teaching of impermanence. Everything changes. We will lose those we love\, and our possessions\, and even our ideas and ideals.\nOnly my deeds will survive me.   \n\nMay I act well to make a world that is lovely and loving. What we do\, and how we do thing things makes a difference.  This is the secret of  peace and happiness and freedom.   \n  \nRemember to pass it on\, pay it forward\, even with a smile\, but especially with our stories. \n  \nI’m so glad you all are enjoying our monthly sharing of Mindfulness and Meditation!  \n  \nPeace and love\, I miss everyone in person. Be well.     \n  \n—Katie Radditz
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/meditation-mindfulness-dialogue-12-15-20/
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SUMMARY:Bibliophiles Unanimous!: Poetry's Task with Kim Stafford  12/20/20
DESCRIPTION:  \nDear Bibliophiles! \n  \nOn December 20th\, at 3 pm\, our Zoom gathering will be hosted by Kim Stafford\, who recently completed two years as Oregon’s Poet Laureate. Here’s the (new) link: \n  \nhttps://us02web.zoom.us/j/81054571039 \n  \nDecember 12\, 2020 \n  \nAs I sat still this morning at my writing desk\, before turning on the light\, in the darkness and silence the weather in my mind began to clear from yesterday’s worries and conundrums\, something began to come into focus. In time\, I turned on the light\, and wrote down this thought:  \n  \nA loss is first a pang\, then a memory. Then \, by writing or telling\, it may become a story. Then\, if told with curiosity and courage\, the sorrow becomes a possession\, an element of identity\, and finally a treasure\, a smudge of wisdom. \n  \nThen\, as my habit each morning early\, I explored this thought by shaping it into something like a poem: \n  \n               Schooling Sorrow  \n  \nWhen a sorrow’s young\, it’s pure—stunned  \npang at breakup\, betrayal\, failure\, death.  \nYou weep\, rant\, brood\, slump. And then   \n  \nin the morning\, sorrow starts its epic  \njourney into memory\, becomes an island  \nin your archipelago of sufferings.  \n  \nThen\, if you are strong\, and lucky to have  \na listener—you begin to apprehend its quirks\,  \nto tell it\, shape it\, watch it grow into a story.  \n  \nAnd if you tell your story well\, with curiosity \nand courage\, it then becomes a possession\, \nand in time a treasure\, a smudge of wisdom.  \n  \nThis can be your gift\, your offering—but \nif you don’t school your sorrow into story \nit can never be your friend. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n 
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/bibliophiles-unanimous-poetrys-task-with-kim-stafford-12-20-20/
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DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20201224
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20210107
DTSTAMP:20260503T102007
CREATED:20201224T181622Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20250718T122403Z
UID:1620-1608768000-1609977599@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  12/24/20
DESCRIPTION:  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nDecember 24\, 2020 \n  \nI believe the soggy clods shall become lovers and lamps… \n  \n—Walt Whitman\, from Song of Myself \n* \n  \nSince water still flows\, though we cut it with swords\, \nAnd sorrow returns\, though we drown it with wine\, \nSince the world can in no way satisfy our cravings\, \nLet us loosen our hair tomorrow and go fishing. \n  \n—Li Po  (701-762 A.D.) \n* \n  \nFound Kin \n  \nArdent champions of comradery\, \nour found kin hold a cherished place \ninside the chest cavity. \nStumble into our lives when we \nneed you most. \nBattle back the self-doubt with \nDeeds\, Words\, Actions\, Presence. \nBlood being equally without consequence \nor measured sacred. \nEmbrace me found kin with gentle \nacts of friendship. \nKeep the wolves at bay\, my hearth fire \nheart stoked. \nAgainst the oppressing laden storm of \nBreathing upon this mortal stage \nFound kin\, I love you. \n  \n—Jeff Kuehner \n* \n  \nElemental Thoughts \n  \nStorm grey clouds frequent windy days\, \nShedding their sadness on the land \nBefore moving on. \nI watch them through my window pane\, \nWishing they would stay awhile \nor maybe take me with them; \nFor a storm grey cloud at heart I’ve become\, \nIn need of a good wind to push me— \nUntil I too shed my sadness. \n  \n—Joshua Barnes \n* \n  \nTHE MEANING OF THIS \n  \nWe are a feather \nmade of wings made of birds \n  \nNo boos \ncheers or other \ninterruptions \n  \nOn our way up \n  \nYes our body has fallen \napart \n  \nBut finally we are floating \n  \nLike this & this \nis what we wished for \nrelishing in our not \nexpecting it \n  \nHere is the inverted valley \n& every blade \nof grass on the godhead asking \n  \nWhat are you \n& who is your name \n  \n—Alex Tretbar \n* \n  \nI do hope you enjoyed my depressing poem. Here is another attached to this letter. It’s a piece I’m working on\, but it has been hiding from my attempts at trying to bring it to paper. Where do all these words hide\, anyway? Maybe it really is in between the blank spaces of every page and sentence. I wish I knew! \n  \nHindsight (2020) \n  \nHold your breath a little while \nThe reaper’s hounds are on the loose\, \nTrailing along their invisible chains \nExtinguishing life like a hangman’s noose. \n  \nHindsight: Speaking of history\, history’s made \nThough the irony remains in man’s surprise; \nFor we’ve opened the door to find again \nA trojan horse in a man disguise. \n  \nThe questions now—Will we learn? \nWill these lessons keep and pass? \nOr will the hounds come again \nWhen comfort blinds us of our past? \n  \nBut worry not\, just hold your breaths\, \nFor now just try to dodge the noose; \nAnd watch the hounds’ chains grow taut \nWhen pharma bears its golden goose. \n  \n—Joshua Barnes \n* \n  \nThink Twice \n  \nIf you think once\, that’s good— \nyou’re ahead of the game. But do \nyourself a favor\, and think again. \n  \nThink for yourself\, for number 1. \nThen think for others\, and see \nhow you are woven into we. \n  \nThink for today\, necessity. \nThen think for what comes soon\, \nand after\, all that rich unfolding. \n  \nThink for your allies\, then for “enemies.” \nThink for the human\, then for Earth. \nThink for comfort\, then for deepening spirit. \n  \nWhen anyone demands an answer\, say\, \n“I am of two minds. Give me a moment.” \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n  \nYour Sovereignty \n  \nBy law\, your house is your castle—unless they have \na warrant to enter\, sift through your stuff\, is your \nfortress\, unless the bank holds the deed\, or you rent \nat a landlord’s whim\, unless it’s a tent by the river \nwaiting for the sweep\, a doorway with a blanket\, \na place to stand by the road with your sign\, a park \nbench bed claimed at dusk\, unless you are an inmate \nin solitary concrete cell with stories behind closed eyes \nyour treasure\, unless you flee\, a refugee running by night \nwith only your coat and muttered clutch of words for \nwater\, please\, bread\, prayer\, brother\, sister\, home\, \nunless you are a tribe\, your usual and accustomed places \ntorn away by someone’s treaty\, one who never saw \ndawn come over a prairie\, forest\, camas meadow\, \nunless you are a wren\, your home thickets \nskinned\, plowed\, paved\, and you are made \nto move\, adapt\, or die\, so just before you fly\, \non a wire you sing a last ravishing run\, \nthe song your shred of sovereignty. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nWinter Feet \n  \nEarly morning walk \nDown Broadway \nInner city sidewalk \nStill dark \nStill cold \n  \nEzra\, a man I’ve come to know\, \nSleeps in a doorway \nHis blue tennis shoes neatly placed \nNext to his head \n  \nHis bare feet \nExtend out from the heavy blanket \n  \nI walk on \nThen turn around \nGently pull the blanket over his feet \n  \nEzra whispers a sleepy thank you \nI start to leave \nHe kicks the blanket off \n  \nFeet once again bare \nTo the bitter cold \nLife as he lives it \nExposed \n  \n—Esther Elizabeth \n  \nDaily Bread \n  \nAnother Vet with little means \nhas found ways to appreciate slices of life \nHe goes by many names \nI call him Joseph \nHe waits outside the café in his \nelectric wheel chair \nwith his dog Buffy snuggling on his lap\, \nfour stuffed animals in the basket behind him— \ntwo dogs\, one monkey\, one cat \nOn each side two \ndecorative colorful wind whirls \n  \nI leave the café with leftovers \nWhat do you have for me today \nHash browns\, chicken sausage\, \nwhole wheat toast \n  \nThis is better than last week’s donut\, \nlaughs Joseph \nThis is a real feast\, thank you \nNow let me offer you a blessing \nbefore you walk on \n  \nI weep now remembering his words\, the \nsincerity with which they were spoken \n  \nDear God as I know you \nBless this servant— \nAs she offers me this day my daily bread \nI ask you to offer her whatever she needs\, \nfor we are all in these troubling times together \nserving one another in love \nAmen \n  \nAmen Joseph \nAmen indeed \n  \n—Esther Elizabeth\, two poems from Encounter: Poems of Engagement \n  \nEsther asked me to include her email address. Here it is: \n  \nestherwelizabeth@gmail.com \n* \n  \nWhat Issa Heard \n  \nTwo hundred years ago Issa heard the morning birds \nsinging sutras to this suffering world. \n  \nI heard them too\, this morning\, which must mean\, \n  \nsince we will always have a suffering world\, \nwe must also always have song. \n  \n—David Budbill \n* \n  \nI hope these poems keep you warm. \n  \nMay all people be happy. \nMay we live in peace & love. \n  \nJohnny \n 
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-12-24-20/
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BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20201225
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20201226
DTSTAMP:20260503T102007
CREATED:20201225T194243Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20201225T194315Z
UID:1633-1608854400-1608940799@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:Yes\, Virginia\, there is a Santa Claus
DESCRIPTION:DEAR EDITOR:  \nI am 8 years old.\nSome of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.\nPapa says\, ‘If you see it in THE SUN it’s so.’\nPlease tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus? \n  \nVIRGINIA O’HANLON.\n115 WEST NINETY-FIFTH STREET. \n  \n  \nVIRGINIA\, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds\, Virginia\, whether they be men’s or children’s\, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect\, an ant\, in his intellect\, as compared with the boundless world about him\, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge. \n  \nYes\, VIRGINIA\, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist\, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then\, no poetry\, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment\, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished. \n  \nNot believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus\, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down\, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus\, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not\, but that’s no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world. \n  \nYou may tear apart the baby’s rattle and see what makes the noise inside\, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man\, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived\, could tear apart. Only faith\, fancy\, poetry\, love\, romance\, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah\, VIRGINIA\, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding. \n  \nNo Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives\, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now\, Virginia\, nay\, ten times ten thousand years from now\, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood. \n  \n—Francis Pharcellus Church\, Editor of The Sun\, September 21\, 1897
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/yes-virginian-there-is-a-santa-claus/
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