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SUMMARY:Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue  10/15/21
DESCRIPTION:  \nOpen Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue \n  \n  October 15\, 2021 \n  \nMeditation is Not Solemn #291 \n  \n“Meditation is to be aware of what is going on—- in our body\, in our feelings\, in our mind\, and in the world. Each day\, nine thousand children die of hunger. The superpowers have more than enough nuclear warheads to destroy our planet many times. Yet the sunrise is beautiful\, and the rose that bloomed this morning along the wall is a miracle. Life is both dreadful and wonderful. To practice meditation is to be in touch with both aspects. Please do not think we must be solemn in order to meditate. In fact\, to meditate well\, we have to smile a lot.” –Thich Nhat Hanh\, from Your True Home \n  \nAnd life is not solemn—-at least not all the time. Admittedly\, I spend a fair amount of time worrying about the world—pandemic\, the Taliban\, voter suppression\, Texas\, climate\, wildfire smoke…the neighbors’ barking dogs… \n  \nBut invariably I get caught\, snagged\, by beauty: \n  \nMy dog’s little fur body\, impossibly soft and sweet-smelling. \nThe bouquet of sweet peas\, smelling like my dear grandmother’s garden. \nThe moon gleaming in the black sky. \nErik Satie’s\, Gymnopédie floating up from downstairs. \nGarden tomatoes and golden raspberries heavy on their vines\, red and gold. \n  \nAnd that’s all within a 100’ radius! And all right now\, at this moment! Just think of what’s to come—fall leaves! snow on the mountain! pumpkin pie! \n  \nBeauty must trump pain\, mustn’t it? I believe so. In meditation some of all these aspects of life\, good and bad\, float in and out\, up and down. Just let them be. But beauty rises to the top. \n  \n—Jude Russell  (September 15) \n* \n  \n(Here are some excerpts from Michel’s meditation journal. The numbers refer to meditations from Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh.) \n  \nSeptember 2\, 2021  #171 PRECIOUS GIFTS \n  \nBeing fully present: there was nothing I wanted more\, as a child\, from my father\, but it wasn’t until I became an adult that I learned the language to identify my need. Now\, I’m confined in a box and I always wonder: when will I lose him? I’m scheduled to be released when he is 102⅔…. \n  \nI can do something for myself now—breathe\, and learn to do what he didn’t know then….I can continue to practice the gift of being fully present whenever I get time with others: parents by phone\, or friends in person. \n  \nIt’s odd that as humans we forget how much we value and cherish someone until they are nearly gone. A rare exception\, which I would not advise anyone to pursue\, is the “near-death experience.” Yet\, it is after these moments of being shook awake from our casual stupor in life that\, for many of us\, we finally begin to give our full attention—at least for a while. \n  \nYet\, all it requires of us to give “precious gifts” is to breathe on purpose\, mindfully aware of each passing moment while we are in it. There’s nothing more to do. There’s nothing complicated about breathing. It can help one to practice this skill\, the mindful part at least\, so when the “important” moments do arrive I can be present and aware. They’re all important when we pay attention to them. I just hope that paying attention can help recall the sensation of a past moment with my dad\, mother\, uncle\, or dear friends—when all are gone from my now. It can be nice to visit a moment or two\, before the mind goes. \n  \n(I’m including the next meditation Michel talks about\, because it’s short and sweet.) \n  \n# 175  Let Your Heart Bloom \n  \nIn the Springtime\, thousands of different kinds of flowers bloom. Your heart can also bloom. You can let your heart open up to the world. Love is possible—do not be afraid of it. Love is indispensable to life\, and if in the past you have suffered because of love\, you can learn how to love again.     —Thich Nhat Hanh \n  \nSeptember 22\, 2021  #175 LET YOUR HEART BLOOM \n  \nThis is a challenging proposition in this setting—not impossible\, just a challenge. So maybe the challenge becomes cultivating a safe haven—a garden of sorts. It is still many weeks away—seemingly an eternity—but\, eventually\, the few of us still remaining from Theatre and Dialogue groups will be allowed to assemble once again as a community of friends I rarely\, if ever\, see as I go about my cyclical movements. Once in a while I do see an old friend; we greet and pass along\, as required. It’s pleasing to have those moments. I doubt things are any easier in the “free world.” So\, until we can once again convene in our little haven at TRCI together\, we’ll need to be “open”—letting our hearts bloom where we are—so when we do meet an old friend\, or gather as a group\, we can be ready with a heart open to the possibility of love\, when ever and where ever it may happen upon us. I think I like this idea: being ready for life wherever it may happen.  \n  \nSeptember 30\, 2021  #176 TRAINING FOR HAPPINESS \n  \nThis sounds like a fun training! Happiness is something I’ve learned\, slowly\, to be (mostly) a choice. At first the struggle was to identify when I was happy. It was a tough time for me and this seems to be over-simplified. Another truth about happiness I learned: it’s not dependent on anything or anyone outside of me. Happiness\, (like love)\, when dependent on external causes will cease when the causes evaporate—they always do….I’ve also learned that a happy-sad balance exists along a continuum; also\, that without other “negative” (so-called) emotions the enjoyment of happiness is less\, because of lack of contrast. \n  \n(You may also find value at PositivePsychology.com. It is relevant and related. (M.D.)) \n  \nOnce again\, I suspect\, this training brings me back to recall that I will be of more constant states when I resume deliberate\, daily breathing practices—meditation…. Happiness\, as a practice\, is going to require some practice from me\, if for no other reason than that I will know I’m happy when it happens! This sounds really silly to my mind’s ear\, but I think the breathing practice and\, possibly\, a focus on things I am happy about or happy to see and do. Maybe others have ideas for how to “TRAIN FOR HAPPINESS.” It could be a great value to those of us struggling with finding it. How do you TRAIN FOR HAPPINESS? Do you just prepare to “be” happy? Or is there a deliberate mantra or slogan you practice with? How does one TRAIN FOR HAPPINESS? I’d like to know. \n  \n—Michel Deforge \n* \n  \n(Michael’s last question is a good one to ponder. John Paisley once asked some of his friends to write about happiness. I wrote the poem “Eudæmanology.” It’s not the final or definitive word on the subject\, but might (I hope) provide some clues for our ongoing quest. (J.S.)) \n  \nEudæmonology*  \n  \nwell\, right off I’d better say  \nhappiness is an art\, not a science  \n  \nit helps if you start out deliriously happy  \nsome kids hesitate  \nothers run right at life\, full-speed\, with wide-open arms  \nif they trip and fall flat on their face  \nthey get up and keep charging  \n  \nif you weren’t one of those kids  \nI don’t know what to tell you  \nmaybe you’ll always hesitate  \n  \nand if you were one of those wildly happy ones  \nyou already know the secret  \nlearned it without being taught  \nknew it before you knew you knew it  \nno anamnesis required  \nbecause you never forgot who you are  \n  \nof course between then and now something could have happened  \nsomething relentless like family\, school\, television\, job  \nduties\, obligations\, commitments\, tragedies even  \nthe car accident\, the cancer  \n  \nthere are parts of the world—big parts—where tragedy is the dirty air you can’t avoid breathing \nplaces where food is scarce and machine guns are plentiful  \nif you don’t live in one of those places you’re damn lucky  \n  \nso\, the conclusion so far seems to be that happiness is a matter of luck  \n  \nbut there’s more to it  \n  \nwhere I live many young women could easily go to the store and get food  \nbut instead they get so thin they look scary  \n  \num\, so the question is: what is required for happiness?  \nwell\, it starts with the basics: food\, shelter\, clean water to drink  \nthen\, other stuff comes into it: love\, affection\, friendship  \n  \nand the art of not making yourself miserable  \n  \nthe Buddha said craving is the source of suffering  \nand cessation of craving is liberation  \n  \nbear that in mind  \n  \nI think a big problem is that people forget that thoughts are just thoughts  \nit’s as if all the ideas\, opinions\, beliefs they have accumulated are the world in which they live  \nrather than the filter through which they see the world  \n  \nso\, the secret of happiness?  \nmaybe something like this…  \nseeing through the spell of thought and language  \ncoming again and again  \nwide awake  \nto the silence  \nthat knows  \nnothing  \n  \n* A neglected branch of Philosophy\, the study of happiness.  \n  \n—Johnny Stallings \n* \n  \nWeary of those who come with words\, words but no language\, \nI make my way to the snow-covered island. \nThe untamed has no words. \nIts blank pages spread out in all directions. \nI come across the tracks of some deer in the snow— \nLanguage\, but no words. \n  \n—Tomas Tranströmer   (March\, 1979)\, from Bill Faricy \n* \n  \n#3  Miracles \n  \nLife and all that it is \, is a miracle. Our very decision to take a path can be a miracle\, or it could be a curse\, but even a curse could be a miracle. So many of life’s mishaps or follies turn out to be miracles in disguise. A good one to consider is Prometheus’ plight: he bequeathed the fire of the gods to man. Man got fire and the big bird got his liver for a meal every day. Prometheus will never die. There are three miracles in that story. \n  \nThose of us within the walls of a prison can choose to be miracles to those we love and for those who are lost—because they need love\, too. We can\, with a full heart of humbleness\, help them to find their path. I ask many the same question that a great man once asked me when I needed it most: “Who are you\, really?” \n  \nMost people want to do good and be good and I’ve noticed that most just want to live a simple life—a job\, wife\, home\, car\, etc.—to accomplish that\, to them would be a miracle. To walk away from the life that put us in prison and reform ourselves is a miracle. To say “no” to addiction and “yes” to life is a miracle. \n  \nSo\, I call you to be the miracle for yourself and then look to your left and to your right and tell each person that they are a miracle too. Hug\, touch\, laugh\, glow in the light of inner love you have. Radiate the light of goodness inside\, for that is the spark that is a beacon to all who need a focal point to see that the miracle of change is real. \n  \n—Rocky Hutchinson \n* \n  \n(Thich Nhat Hanh turned 95 on October 11th. He is known as Thây\, which means “teacher\,” by many people. In 1982\, he established the Plum Village Monastery in the south of France. In November of 2014\, he had a major stroke\, and has been unable to speak since that time. In November of 2018\, he returned to Vietnam. Katie has been to Plum Village many times. She sent us this newsletter\, which I’ve edited a bit:) (J.S.) \n  \nDear Beloved Community\,  \n  \nWarm greetings from Plum Village\, France  \n  \nPeaceful dwelling  \n  \nAs we approach Thầy’s 95th birthday this week\, we would like to share with our international community how Thầy and our sangha at Từ Hiếu Temple in Huế\, Vietnam have been doing…..We are deeply grateful for the love and dedication of the team of people taking care of our teacher.  \n  \nOver the last year\, Thầy’s health has weakened. The autumn rains have always been challenging for Thầy’s lungs and health\, and continue to be so. This spring Thầy was not able to go outside to visit the temple grounds as much as he could last year. Nevertheless\, the sangha was delighted that\, when the Từ Hiếu Temple renovation was finished\, Thầy was well enough to make a tour of the temple to visit the completed works. In recent months\, Thầy has been resting for most of the day with his eyes closed\, yet he is often very alert\, present and at peace. When the weather is fine\, the attendants help Thầy to go out onto the veranda of the Deep Listening Hut to enjoy the sun.   \n  \nWe are here for you  \n  \nWith the great challenges of the Covid-19 pandemic in Vietnam\, both Từ Hiếu Root Temple and our Diệu Trạm nunnery have been mostly closed to visitors. Fortunately\, Huế has been spared the major outbreak that Ho Chi Minh City has endured….Many people in Vietnam have been without food or work. With the help of our international sangha friends\, as part of our Love and Understanding social work program\, our monastics in Vietnam have been doing their best to supply oxygen\, food\, medicine and donations at the roadside food banks helping those most in need.  \n  \nWe are deeply aware that the pandemic has brought great suffering to countless people all around the world. We continue to do our best to practice diligently with stability and compassion\, so we can be a refuge for you all\, now and in the future. It is our deep wish to open Plum Village in France again as soon as possible.  \n  \nNew ways to practice together  \n  \n….Finding ways to support one another as we integrate mindfulness practice more deeply into daily life has been a powerful collective journey.  \n  \nThis month\, a small delegation of monastics representing Thầy will be traveling from Plum Village to Scotland to participate in the TED Countdown conference ahead of the COP26 climate talks. They will be sharing Thầy’s teachings on ethics and awakening with leaders\, scientists\, activists and businesspeople; and they will also teach practices of mindful walking\, mindful breathing\, mindful eating\, and the art of deep listening. Thầy always hoped that mindfulness retreats could be organized ahead of political summits\, and it’s wonderful to have the chance to contribute towards his vision.  \n  \nThe gift of listening  \n  \nFor Thầy’s birthday this year\, we’re inviting our whole community to offer Thầy the gift of our practice: in particular\, the collective practice of deep listening to ourselves\, our loved ones\, and the Earth. Our own practice of mindfulness is the most powerful gift we can offer to continue Thầy’s teachings and legacy in the world.   \n  \nThank you for being there\, and for walking this path with us. We are deeply grateful for your continued support and generosity for our monastic community as we carry Thầy’s legacy forward into the future.  \n  \nWith love\, gratitude\, and trust\,   \n  \nThe Monks and Nuns of Plum Village  \n  \n—Katie Radditz \n* \n  \n72 \n  \nAll my errors made me who I am— \nthat set-back quickened my epiphany\, \nthat detour brought me to the way\, \ncatastrophe was cradle to awakening\, \ndisaster kindled the great shazam. \n  \nYou young folks\, take a lesson \nfrom one humbled by attrition: \nmay you relish revelation born \nof every kink in your intention \nas required by your formation. \n  \nVery Local Weather \n  \nThe forecast is moderate\, but significant— \nat least to me: the little storm my body builds \npassing through this world. Light breezes \nof the breath inhaled become variable winds\, \nenough to stir a drifting feather\, or puff some \nthistledown\, my sigh slight\, but bold\, compared \nto a bird’s whisper stirring a thicket\, or wisplet \nof the butterfly\, flaring wings through golden light. \nA warming trend imbues the damp stump I sit on\, \nthen I disturb the air by stepping the stony path. \nAnd don’t forget the spate of yellow rain spent \nfrom my cloudy soul onto dry leaves. And \ndon’t forget how my habits change the climate\, \nmy light\, my speed\, my hurricane of acquisition \nmelting ice\, raising seas\, burning mountains— \nI and you and all of our tornado transformations. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nToday is a happy day: Josh Underhill got out of prison this morning. Christine Darnell forwarded me a picture from Josh’s mom. He has a big smile on his face. Christine informed me that “he finished off his chicken fried steak\, hash browns and gravy with no problem.” I’m looking forward to having pizza with Josh on Sunday\, in two days. \n  \nI met Josh on a Wednesday evening\, June 3\, 2009\, and spent three hours with him every week for six years. And then\, Nancy and I saw him once a month for five more years. We did a lot of plays together: A Midsummer Night’s Dream\, Twelfth Night\, Twelve Angry Men\, King Lear\, Winter’s Tale\, Hamlet. We have a lot of shared memories\, a lot of the same friends. \n  \nNancy and I had the good fortune to watch Josh grow up—become wiser\, and more self-confident. He has always been very thoughtful of others. A gentle soul. \n  \nYesterday was overcast and rainy. Today the sky is bright blue. I can’t imagine what it must feel like for Josh today—not surrounded by concrete walls\, seeing so much\, experiencing so much\, getting to spend the day with his loved ones. Might be a bit of a “sensory overload\,” and somewhat overwhelming emotionally. There will be challenges ahead\, but he’s going to do well. He’s been on a good trajectory for a long time. I’m grateful to have him as my friend. \n  \nDear Josh:  \nA lot of people love you and wish you well. \n  \n—Johnny Stallings \n* \n  \n(Note to readers: Please contribute to our dialogue as writers as well as readers.)
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/meditation-mindfulness-dialogue-10-15-21/
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BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20211028
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20211111
DTSTAMP:20260427T100107
CREATED:20211028T165259Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20211028T184339Z
UID:2421-1635379200-1636588799@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  10/28/21
DESCRIPTION:  \n \nphotos by Kim Stafford \n  \n  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \n  \n  \nOctober 28\, 2021 \n  \n  \nPoems from the past five days…where do they come from? \n  \nby Kim Stafford \n  \nFor some years now\, I’ve started each day with a walk before dawn\, then sitting with my breath\, then coffee\, then something like a poem—that is\, an exploratory utterance rising from recent experience in the world\, and in thought.  \n     For what it’s worth\, in response to Johnny’s invitation\, here are the most recent five adventures into my realm of scribbling… \n  \n  \n16 October \n  \nAt the coast for my birthday\, we went to the turnout south from Depot Bay to watch a whale out beyond the breakers breach and roll. My poem the next day tried to honor this encounter. As often happens\, though\, I got a little preachy toward the end\, with my “So we must…” conclusion. This is my failing: loving Earth\, hoping for the future\, seeking to honor the miracles that come tug our sleeves… \n  \n  \n  At Rocky Creek We Watch the Whale \n  \nOut beyond the heave and shattered roll of waves \nwe see the puff\, the plume\, breath burst\, the back’s \ndark gleam sliding down into the massive deep. \n  \nThat’s about how much we know of everything— \ndreams of wheeling birds\, the swell and fade of seasons— \na glimpse gone down\, a gasp\, and the rest is guessing. \n  \nPrecious Earth\, leviathan—the visible we see\, and say \nwe know\, while the hidden will be what we need. \n  \n  \n  \n17 October \n  \nAt the coast\, we rose at 5a.m. for low tide to gather mussels from wave-pummeled rocks—the errand of a fool\, or in our case\, the dedicated gourmand. While wrestling in the dark with waves to our knees\, I found myself wondering if there might be a phrase in French to describe a gourmet so dedicated\, no danger was too great in the pursuit of fine flavor. Thus\, this adventure came to the page… \n  \n  \nCampagne Extrême du Gourmet \n  \nAt the darkest episode of night \nwe strode by wave-bashed rocks \nin thunder din of the rising tide \nto address the wall of blue shell \nmussels pried by headlamp flicker \ninto the pail for our planned repast \nwith butter\, lemon\, and white wine\,  \nas the sea surge wrapped our knees \nuntil we shuddered as the dark tug  \nand thrash from out beyond our faint  \nperiphery demanded utter surrender  \nto be swept\, to be stumbled into ocean’s  \nhungry pot\, to be stirred into torn asunder\,  \nto be atomized\, to be distilled  \ninto the flavor salt. \n  \n  \n  \n18 October \n  \nOur daughter knows the sommelière at a local winery\, and he generously invited us to come sip. By the third vintage I was feeling no pain\, and the next morning composed a blessing in his honor and sent it off… \n  \n  \n      A Sip Serene \n  \nUp from stone and earth \nby the vine-root clench \ndrought-flavored rain \nrises into stem\, leaf\, bud\, \nand tendril to spangle in sun \nalong the row hung heavy \nwith fisted clusters to be \ncrushed\, then cherished \ninto wine\, the whole hill \nshimmered in this scent \nthat fills the mind\, and \nthen this sip of honor. \n  \n  \n  \n19 October \n  \nThis really big crow landed on the lintel above our garden gate\, and started strutting back and forth. I enjoyed the spectacle…and then next morning\, writing\, started by trying to describe his imperious presence. But once I had that\, I thought\, “That’s cool\, but so what?” I realized he reminded me of certain Type-A males who lord it over the rest of us (Jeff B.\, Elon M.\, Mark Z.)\, and so they got into the opening lines… \n  \n  \n                         King Crow \nWhen some fat cat\, filthy rich\, swaggers  \nand proclaims—you know\, the ones with \nyachts\, trophy homes\, and bizarre opinions\,  \nthe ones who clearly never learned to practice  \nbasic human etiquette—I see our king crow\,  \nthe heavy one swooping low to settle and command  \nthe lintel board above the gate\, to strut and brag\,  \nhis bead black eyes glinting dire fire\, his seesaw  \nrocking tossing shouts to the sky\, flexing his sheen  \nof rainbow black\, burning the air with sheer bravado  \nas he disdains his craven clan below\, all small crows  \nbowing and scraping\, thrusting their beaks for pickings. \n  \nAbove it all\, his highness pivots\, shrugs\, and shouts:  \nShow me something worth my time—then it’s mine. \n  \n  \n  \n20 October \n  \nI’ve been going through old letters\, and as I work my way back into the 1970s I come to the time I was preparing\, foolishly\, to become a scholar. I compiled vast bibliographies\, and worked my way through a slew of books chosen—not because they were good\, but because they were essential to my chosen field of study. Then I remembered the scholarly exercise of the “Abstract\,” that paragraph at the head of a formal article\, distilling the import of what was to follow. Then out of nowhere—my favorite source for writing—I thought of the phrase “It takes one to know one…\,” and I started wondering who first said that…and soon I was back to our primitive forebears. Then I started having fun… \n  \n  \nInnocent Words of Ancient Import \nby Hector Persimian\, Ph.D.\, DMD\, ABC\, DVD \n  \nAbstract: This paper charts new ground in phase archeology—as a complement to genetic investigations into the origin of human species—through an examination of indicator phrases like “you scratch my back\, I scratch yours\,” a clear reference to primordial grooming rituals (Baker\, 1987); “takes one to know one\,” a key to solidarity among rival Homo dejectus hunting bands (Spice\, 1993); and “one may smile and smile and yet may be a villain\,” a phrase long attributed to a particular writer\, but clearly originating in the confrontational grin display of our simian forebears (Jekyll and Hyde\, 2001). We will conclude with a close study of the phrase “Yes and no\,” a tantalizing remnant of our ancestors’ philosophical struggle with their existential conundrum: should we come down from the trees? \n  \n  \n  \n21 October \n  \nYesterday\, our son told us of the disastrous new computer system at work\, causing all kinds of disruption and despair. On my morning walk\, I got to thinking about other kinds of dysfunction. Both Capitalism and the avoidance of Climate Crisis came to mind. In my walking meditation\, the words “glitch” and “triage’ came to mind\, and I had to write the poem to find out what these two words might want to say to one another. \n  \n  \n       Remedy for Glitch \nWhen things go crazy haywire— \ncomputer crash\, capitalism cheats\, oil  \nburns us all—it’s time for triage. So\, \n  \nchoose one: (1) How did this happen?… \nor (2) Whose fault is this?…or \n(3) What’s to be done? \n  \nScreen in my face\, money in hand\, \nand a hard look at my habits: \nreboot…learn thrift…simplify. \n  \n  \n  \nI can make no claim for the value\, the “success\,” of these humble poems. But I do believe in the practice of making them. By sitting each morning with my thoughts\, wonderings\, intuitions\, struggles\, and obsessions\, I write in order to honor our perennial opportunity when faced with trouble: There might be another way. \n  \n—Kim Stafford
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-10-28-21/
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BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20211031
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20211114
DTSTAMP:20260427T100107
CREATED:20211028T190945Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20211103T015210Z
UID:2431-1635638400-1636847999@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:Bibliophiles Unanimous!  10/31/21
DESCRIPTION:  \nBeloved Bibliophiles \n  \n(Apologies Everyone. I’m having problems with the formatting on this page. Everything below is squashed together. I’ll see if some tech support people can help me get this fixed soon.) \n  \nJude recommended NATURE as the topic Bibliophiles Unanimous! on Sunday\, October 31st. Here’s her recap\, with a few things added by Johnny at the end: \n  \n  \n\n\nHi Johnny\,\n\n\n\nHere are some notes on our very fun BiblioUn. yesterday:\n\n\n\nFirst of all\, the Japanese term I couldn’t dredge up was ‘shinrin yoku\,’ or ‘forest bathing.’ My friend\, Yasuko\, and I are glad that our belief that ‘bathing in nature’ is actually beneficial is now validated by the Japanese term\, ‘shinrin yoku.’ It means ‘making contact with and taking in the atmosphere of the forest\,’ and it is something the Japanese take seriously (as do I!). And remember I said that this not-so-common term and its meaning were inscribed on a large reader board at the not-so-prominent Little Zigzag Falls near Zigzag and Government Camp\, OR. What are the chances of that?!?!\n\n\n\nWhew!  one or two sentence summary of the books I mentioned:\n\n\n\nThe Overstory – Richard Powers – A novel with 9 main characters about our treatment of and relationship with the environment\, specifically trees\, forests…Nine very different characters and nine very different stories\, but all pulled together in the end.\n\n\n\nUnderland– Robert MacFarlane – Nonfiction telling of explorations under the earth’s surface. MacFarlane studies the fungi that create a cooperative system below forest floors\, with the plant scientist\, Merlin Sheldrake. (I had totally forgotten his romp with Sheldrake the whole time I was later reading Entangled Life by..Merlin Sheldrake!) The book also looks at burial and darkness and deep time…\n\n\n\nThe Lost Words-Robert MacFarlane – Beautiful art in a large book depicting one hundred words in middle schoolers’ dictionaries that have been deemed obsolescent and have been replaced\, mostly by computer related terms (byte\, etc.). Because most children no longer get out in nature much anymore (hence the nauseating term ‘Nature Deficit Disorder’)\, most or all of the words are related to nature: wren\, bramble\, dandelion\, weasel\, etc. MacFarlane writes a poem for each lost word\, and each is accompanied by a gorgeous watercolor.\n\n\n\nThe Invention of Nature – Andrea Wulf – Story of Alexander von Humboldt\, early to mid-19th century Prussian explorer and naturalist who understood nature as an interconnected global force. He discovered the similarities in climate zones across the world at different elevations and different latitudes\, and also predicted human-caused climate change.\n\n\n\nThe Brother Gardeners – Andrea Wulf – In the 18th century\, wealthy estate owners in England sought to expand their properties from the rigid\, formal privet/lawn/columnar conifer forms to include exotic\, floriferous plants from around the world. Captain Cook\, Captain Bligh\,Erasmus Darwin (grandad of Chuck)\, Benjamin Franklin and others figure into this plant frenzy.\n\n\n\nThe Wild Trees – Richard Preston – About the scaling and mapping of the tallest trees in the world (350′-400′!) \, found in the California Redwoods. The discovery of another plant world\, hundreds of feet up in the trees\, figures into this; compacted soil\, ferns\, moss\, huckleberry bushes\, even crustaceans live and thrive in this ‘deep canopy.’ You can walk around up there. Wow!\n\n\n\nBraiding Sweetgrass – Robin Wall Kimmerer – Author is a professor of botany and of Potawatomi heritage. She ‘braids’ together indigenous wisdom and scientific knowledge and gives equal importance to each. She convinced me.\n\n\n\n\nThe Botany of Desire – Michael Pollan – Author picks four plants (potato\, marijuana\, tulip and apple) to show how plants create desire in humans\, thereby assuring (in very different ways) their (continued) survival. The potato (control)\, marijuana (intoxication)\, tulip (beauty)\, and apple (sweetness). He posits that plants control us  rather than us controlling plants.\n\n\n\nThanks for yesterday and all other Biblio days!\n\n\n\n\n\nJude\n\n\n\n\nJude also held up a copy of The Entangled Web by Merlin Sheldrake.\n\n\n\nMartha talked about A World on the Wingby Scott Weidensaul.\n\n\n\nJohnny Scharbach spoke of The Secret Life of Trees by Peter Wohlleben and mentioned  Chris Maser\, who wrote many books\, including Forest Primeval. He also talked about a book he’s reading titled The Web of Meaning.\n\n\n\nKatie told us a little about what her son Abel and his wife Tao are doing. They are both ecologists\, and are currently helping teach a Permaculture course through Oregon State University. Katie: please remind me what books you talked about.\n\n\n\nTodd talked about the New England Transcendentalists and read this poem that he wrote:\n\n\n\n\n\n\n  \nHalf Dome\, Autumn \n  \nI can never get over the notion \nthat fall trees are old ladies and gents \nstrutting across the green: \nladies\, in their elaborate turn-of-the-century hats \nfloppy brims and trailing dresses \nmen\, all spiffy in top hats and spats \npin-striped pants\, tails lopping in the breeze. \n  \nAll through the winter \nthey reach into bare sky \ntheir feathers banished by stripping winds; \nstopped like dancers on a music box. \nRain lashes their trunks black \nthen quietly encases them in silver and glass. \n  \nBut suddenly\, the miracle of spring. \nTheir glass shells shatter to the ground. \nGreen emerges and reaches from their bodies. \nAll summer it reaches out to the edge of shadow. \n\n  \nBut\, like I say\, \n\nit’s in the fall these ladies and gents start their promenade \nand they keep walking right up to the last feather. \n\n  \n–Todd Oleson \n  \n\n\n\n\nI mentioned a couple books by David Abram: The Spell of the Sensuous & Becoming Animal. And a couple films: “Fantastic Fungi” and “Winged Migration.”\n\n\n\n\n\n\npeace & love\n\n\n\n\nJohnny\n\n\n \n\n\n\n\n\n 
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/bibliophiles-unanimous-10-31-21/
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BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20211111
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20211125
DTSTAMP:20260427T100107
CREATED:20211111T172737Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20230921T172258Z
UID:2454-1636588800-1637798399@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  11/11/21
DESCRIPTION:  \n \n \n \nFour bodhisattvas!: Brenda Erickson\, Dick Willis\, Jude Russell & Jack Baird \n  \n  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nNovember 11\, 2021 \n  \nBeginning My Studies \n  \nBeginning my studies the first step pleas’d me so much\, \nThe mere fact consciousness\, these forms\, the power of motion\, \nThe least insect or animal\, the senses\, eyesight\, love\, \nThe first step I say awed me and pleas’d me so much\, \nI have hardly gone and hardly wish’d to go any farther\, \nBut stop and loiter all the time to sing it in ecstatic songs. \n  \n—Walt Whitman \n  \n  \nMy Recipe for Living a Life Rich in Meaning \n  \nWhat I would like to do in this essay is to provide some clues as to how to find your way to the Golden World\, and live there. This is my recipe. You have to create your own. That’s part of the fun. Make the most of the fact that there has never been and will never be another you.  \n  \nTo live a life rich in meaning\, the first thing is to have that as an aspiration. A much more common goal in our society is simply to get rich. Rich in money and rich in meaning are not the same thing. My basic idea is: Since life is short and each day is precious\, I want to BLESS THIS DAY.  \n  \nThere is not some other day to be happy. Today is the day. \n  \nSome of the ingredients that make my life rich in meaning include: love\, silence\, books\, friends\, creativity\, gratitude and being helpful to others. \n  \nWe all need to love and be loved. One of my constant aspirations is to become a more loving person. We learn to love by loving and being loved. I have the extreme good fortune to be living with Nancy\, who loves me and who I love. We’ve been living together for 15 years. We’re nuts about each other. Every day together is a good day.  \n  \nNancy and I got together when I was 55 years old. Since I was single at the time\, it means that all of my previous efforts to be in a loving relationship had not worked out\, and yet I learned a lot about loving from each of them. \n  \nThere is also Big Love—unconditional love for everyone and everything. Being in a loving relationship is one aspect of living in love. It nurtures and strengthens the bigger project of loving everyone\, of loving life. I don’t know exactly how or why it worked out this way\, but having a three-hour meaning-of-life dialogue every week for many years with a dozen or more friends in prison did a lot to open my heart. It made me softer. I cry more than most men do. In those prison circles\, we opened ourselves to each other. This gave everyone in the circle many blessings. We humans need each other more than we know. Our potential for loving has no limit. \n  \nPeace is something that is not given much attention in our society. By “peace” I mean here “inner peace”—what the Bible calls “the peace which passeth understanding.” My introduction to peace as a value to aspire to came from Indian yogis. First from books by J. Krishnamurti and Paramanhansa Yogananda\, then from spending time with two teachers I had when I was in my twenties\, Nataraja Guru and Nitya Chaitanya Yati. \n  \nMeditation and mindfulness are essential ingredients in my recipe for living a life rich in meaning—the most essential. I can’t imagine what my life would be like without them. More miserable\, for sure. They provide the foundation for whatever peace and love and happiness and freedom I have. It feels to me like I have a lot of those things. Every day of my life is filled with blessings. As I look around\, everything appears miraculous to me. I am thankful for my human life on earth. \n  \nMy Paradise is a library. I live surrounded by books. Each one is a world. Some of the authors and even some of the fictional characters are among my closest friends. I love Walt Whitman and Alice\, who has adventures in Wonderland and through the Looking-Glass. I hated school. As soon as I dropped out of college\, I began to read whatever I wanted to. I read widely\, going from subject to subject and author to author as the mood strikes me. I get endless pleasure from this. As for living a life rich in meaning\, there is no building more packed with meaning\, from floor to ceiling\, than a library. My own library contains a lot of books by people who are especially good on the subject of living a meaningful life. Some of my favorites\, to whom\, I return again and again\, include: Thich Nhat Hanh\, Susan Griffin\, Joseph Campbell\, Wendell Berry\, Walt Whitman\, J. Krishnamurti\, Alan Watts\, Hafiz\, William Shakespeare\, Ramana Maharshi\, Shunryu Suzuki\, Lao Tzu\, Thomas Traherne\, Ralph Waldo Emerson and Han Shan. It’s a much longer list\, but these are some of the people whose writings most reliably enrich my life. \n  \nFriends enrich my life. If I look at my life\, it appears that my vocation is gathering people together. For many years\, I would make waffles at my house (or apartment) every Sunday and have somewhere around 2o people come over. For thirteen years I had a weekly dialogue group at a prison with around 16 people sitting in a circle and talking about—guess what!—how to live a life rich in meaning. The original title of the dialogue group was: The Stories We Tell Ourselves: How Our Thinking Shapes Our Lives. I love this kind of deep dialogue. I like to get together with friends for coffee or tea—often one-on-one—and talk about everything under the sun\, but especially about what is most important\, or essential\, or meaningful to us in that moment. During the current pandemic\, when it has been harder to get together with others\, I’ve done a lot of videoconferencing on Zoom. \n  \nThere are well-worn roads of religious belief and practice that one might go down\, but the only way I know through first-hand experience\, is to create your own path by following your heart’s desire. I suspect that even if one chooses one of those well-travelled roads\, each person must find their own unique way of knowing\, believing and practicing that tradition. \n  \nIn addition to religious belief and practice\, some people live lives rich in meaning by devoting themselves to Art: theater\, music\, poetry\, dance\, painting—not to mention other arts\, like gardening\, cooking\, woodworking\, knitting\, filmmaking\, et cetera. My friend Abe goes hiking\, skiing and camping in the Montana wilderness. He takes beautiful photos of some of the things he sees. He reports that his journeys give him great joy. \n  \nCreativity enriches our lives in mysterious ways. Theater is a realm in which I have had many adventures\, as an actor and director. I haven’t given myself fully to an art form in the way that some of my art heroes have: Bill T. Jones\, Ushio Amagatsu\, Peter Schumann\, Wes Anderson\, Tom Waits\, Susan Griffin\, Rick Bartow—to name a few. One of my current role models is the fictional character Ted Lasso. I want to be more like him! \n  \nI’ve done some writing\, and would like to do more. I’ve written some essays\, poems\, short stories and theater pieces. I’ve kept a journal for fifty years. The journal has helped me to better understand my life journey. I also use it as a tool to help me find my way to the Golden World every morning. \n  \nHelping others is another thing that enriches our life and gives meaning to it. Life is short. It often seems to me that the world’s problems are large\, I am puny\, and whatever I do won’t make much of a difference in the Big Picture. One of the things I tell myself when I’m having those thoughts\, is that one kind act makes a whole life worthwhile. Everyone enjoys being helpful\, when an opportunity arises. I know some people who don’t wait—they are always finding ways to help someone. I’m thinking of Brenda Erickson\, Dick Willis\, Jude Russell and Jack Baird. Bodhisattvas all! \n  \nFollowing your heart’s desire may sound selfish\, but it’s important to distinguish between selfishness and self-care. I have often reminded my friends in prison that self-care is Job One. I remind them of this when they get out of prison\, for there are many challenges outside prison walls as well. Because our life is short and each day is precious\, we should be able to bless each day—to be thankful that we have a human life on earth. That’s another not-so-secret ingredient in my recipe for living a life rich in meaning: gratitude. At the most basic level\, the difference between complaining and giving thanks is the difference between Hell and Heaven. \n  \nWhich brings me to another important thing that I wanted to include in my recipe—coming to understand that every day\, from moment to moment\, we create the world in which we live. The stories we tell ourselves are our world. It’s important to distinguish between the world and my world\, as Wittgenstein pointed out long ago. The world includes everything that has ever happened\, and everything that is happening right now. It is beyond our ken\, not only because it is so vast\, but because it is changing from moment to moment. My world is the world as I experience it and understand it and know it and feel it\, from moment to moment. At times\, I may feel powerless to change the world\, but I can be sovereign of my inner world and how I process my experience. A happy person lives in a friendly world. An angry person lives in a world full of assholes. A person who lives in love\, lives in love. \n  \nThis is not to deny or minimize\, even for a moment\, the vast amount of injustice and suffering that is always going on in the world. Right now\, there are many places in our world where food is scarce and machine guns are plentiful. This is not acceptable\, since all children are our children. Each of us must do what we can to make this world a better place for all our human\, animal and plant friends\, for all the rivers and forests and ecologies of every kind.  \n  \nPeace and love and joy and freedom and gratitude and beauty and wisdom are all intrinsically good for us. Where self-care comes in is by nurturing these qualities in ourselves\, so that we can bring them to every encounter we have with each other\, with all beings and with our Mother Earth. \n  \nWell\, that’s about what I’ve got this morning as far as a recipe goes for living a life rich in meaning. I have a very limited repertoire. Apologies to pen pals\, readers of this journal\, and other friends who have heard me say all this before. \n  \n—Johnny Stallings
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-11-11-21/
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DTSTART;TZID=America/Los_Angeles:20211113T190000
DTEND;TZID=America/Los_Angeles:20211113T210000
DTSTAMP:20260427T100107
CREATED:20211104T004829Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20211113T212142Z
UID:2447-1636830000-1636837200@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:Otherworlds and Underworlds: Will Hornyak Storytelling  Nov 13
DESCRIPTION:Otherworlds and Underworlds  \n  \nNovember 13th  \nIn honor of the Day of the Dead and the Celtic New Year of Samhain\, storyteller William Kennedy Hornyak weaves Irish\, Greek\, Mexican and Brazilian myths\, poems and tales into harrowing descents and festive romps through the legendary landscapes of death and rebirth alongside Coyote\, Orpheus\, Yemanja and Finn Mac Cool.   \nFor audiences 14 and over.  \n  \n  \nSaturday November 13  7:00 p.m. Pacific STANDARD TIME \nWe will open the waiting room @ 20 minutes prior to each show \nZoom Link:   \n  \nhttps://us02web.zoom.us/j/81949258717?pwd=S2lnRkdqemxncjc3bkg4K0FFOWpuQT09 \n  \nMeeting ID: 875 6423 8789 \nPasscode: 579723 \nCost: There are no tickets or admission costs but donations of gold bullion\, mining claims\, motorcycle parts\, PayPal funds(hornyak.will@gmail.com) or checks are appreciated: Will Hornyak 11375 SE 33rd Ave. Milwaukie\, OR  97222 \n 
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/otherworlds-and-underworlds-will-hornyak-storytelling-nov-5-6-7-13/
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DTSTART;TZID=America/Los_Angeles:20211114T150000
DTEND;TZID=America/Los_Angeles:20211114T170000
DTSTAMP:20260427T100107
CREATED:20211113T231648Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20211127T175642Z
UID:2468-1636902000-1636909200@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:Bibliophiles Unanimous!  11/14/21
DESCRIPTION:  \nBeloved Bibliophiles! On Sunday\, November 14th\, at 3 pm (PST)\, our theme will be NATURE POETRY. Here’s the link to the Zoom gathering: \n  \nhttps://us02web.zoom.us/j/86949399028 \n  \nI hope to see you there!  \n  \npeace\, love & happiness  \nJohnny \n  \n 
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/bibliophiles-unanimous-11-14-21/
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BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20211115
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20211215
DTSTAMP:20260427T100107
CREATED:20211116T220618Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20211130T001412Z
UID:2473-1636934400-1639526399@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue  11/15/21
DESCRIPTION:photo by Kim Stafford \n  \n  \nOpen Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue \n  \n  \n  November 15\, 2021 \n  \nIn childhood\, you could look miles across a cookie\, and never see the other side. \n  \n—William Stafford \n* \n  \n(This poem by Alex Tretbar is part of a much longer poem called “Cat’s Game.”) (JS) \n  \nINDRA’S NET \n  \nEven gods & holy \nmen have their toys \n& tools of trade: \n  \nHermes the caduceus \n& Jehova His burning bush \n& Odin his ravens \n& the Buddha a stone himself. \n  \nAnd there is elephant-throned Indra \nwith his jewel-bedecked net. \n  \nWhat does he catch with it? \n  \nNothing (everything)\, actually. \nThe net lies draped in the air \naround his castle\, and all matter \nreflects & refracts \nthrough the facet clusters stationed \nat every X of the mesh—infinite gems\, \n  \nall of which link to the others. \nPeer into one & peer into all: \nsee  your face \nas though through a fly’s  \ncomposite eyes\, see your face \nsuperimposed over \nevery human face to grow \n& fade\, all faces of clock & moon\, \nsurface of all waters \nboth quiet & vengeful \nthe original \n  \n     drop \n  \nof cytoplasm \nfrom every star’s vantage— \nall of the brittle cosmos \ncaught up in a fractal \nself-repeating\, coiling \nwithout pause within \nyour eye. \n  \nNo one is to blame. \n  \n—Alex Tretbar \n* \n  \n(Katie Radditz sent this story from Loren Eiseley\, author of The Immense Journey.) (JS) \n  \nWhile wandering a deserted beach at dawn\, stagnant in my work\, I saw a man in the distance bending and throwing as he walked the endless stretch toward me. As he came near\, I could see that he was throwing starfish\, abandoned on the sand by the tide\, back into the sea. When he was close enough I asked him why he was working so hard at this strange task. He said that the sun would dry the starfish and they would die. I said to him that I thought he was foolish. There were thousands of starfish on miles and miles of beach. One man alone could never make a difference. He smiled as he picked up the next starfish. Hurling it far into the sea he said\, “It makes a difference for this one.” I abandoned my writing and spent the morning throwing starfish. — Loren Eiseley \n  \n(Katie adds:) \n  \nIt’s a fabulous reminder when we feel guilty that we are not doing more to help.  What’s important is to do what we love—for those who come along our path. This is a tale for living a magical life\, just appreciating that we and all these amazing beings are alive.   \n  \n—Katie Radditz \n* \n  \n(Here are some excerpts from Michel’s meditation journal. The numbers refer to sections from Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh.) (JS) \n  \nOctober 10\, 2021  #177  THE INDIVISIBLE BODY OF REALITY \n  \n….I have learned sometime back—how far\, I don’t recall—that everything is part of the whole. Some may say\, “I see a unified reality\,” as in\, “We’re all in this together.” And I agree. For me\, this goes deeper. Since I adopted a view of the original cause of all things as GOD—(drawing deeply from Jewish sources\, along with an Evangelical Protestant Christian upbringing)—I perceive this omnipresent Being (God is everywhere at all times—beyond time\, even) of infinite power created\, first\, a space in infinite reality for this reality to exist. Many traditions have looked for explanation of whys and wherefores. I’ve learned to accept some of what I can’t know—hoping benevolence over malevolence. \n  \nBy retracting some of the infinitude of GOD\, GOD made space for me—or even for “me\,” with all the so-called negatives (“bad”) and positives (“good”) I may bring forth in this world. I see this world as a creation to allow the Infinite-All-That-Is (unity) to experience relationship\, which requires “other.” I base this on: If GOD is ALL\, then there is no…thing else. Any other would be subsumed into GOD’s ALL—as a candle’s light is subsumed by the sun\, yet even more so. What this contraction of All-That-Is idea does for me is to create a space for “me” to exist\, along with my present “reality\,” and I am able to experience relationships to other people\, to other beings (sentient or not)\, and to All-That-Is. Under all this is an interconnection between all things. We may not see it\, or even want to do so—that’s okay. This connection informs\, for me\, that were GOD to reveal the infinite to man\, we would cease to exist as individuals\, and interdependence would meld back into the Ultimate Unity\, as all “things” once again became The One\, Source-of-All. \n  \nInterconnectedness is probably easier to contemplate than my personal glimpse of reality. Sadly\, the view doesn’t always hold to the forefront of my mind\, and so I “fall” victim to interpreted reality (based on Ego)\, losing sight of just how deeply interconnected we all are in this “now” moment\, and I see myself as independent and alone. \n  \nThis “alone”-ness is just a fabrication of mind attempting to assert a control over reality\, claiming independence from “others\,” and forgetting the value of a reality where “We’re all in this present moment together.” The Buddha taught “the three poisons” as his way of explaining in simple human terms what he came to see as the Ultimate Reality (he named “Nirvana”-paradise). However we learn to label and accept reality as it is—(exploring Ultimate Reality at times)—we can eventually learn to see a connection to all other “beings” and “things” within this reality. It isn’t easy to explain and/or wrap a mind around. Forgive me my simple fallibility\, as I am also part of you\, as much you are a precious part of my being too. \n  \n  \nOctober 14\, 2021  #181 A BABY CRIES \n  \nI wonder\, how many of us are scared of babies in some fashion—their neediness we can’t meet\, their fragility we may fracture\, their delicate frame\, or emotional state\, and more? Learning to see and embrace our emotional state of anger (or any emotional state) as our suffering baby within\, holding and comforting him or her: this seems foreign to me\, yet it also makes some sense in the world of mindfulness. When we engage our playful side\, and imagine emotional states\, such as anger\, as fragile\, delicate babies in much need of gentleness and loving care—then\, maybe\, we can also imagine ourselves giving loving tender care as we hope we might\, instead of what we fear we might do as an alternative. Maybe I’m the only one (not likely) to have trepidation when it comes to babies in general\, and\, specifically\, to holding or comforting one. It has been many years since I’ve been around a baby. It can’t be too “hard” to do. I can imagine\, pretend doing what I want\, even now\, when I feel distressed and upset. And in doing so I’m imagining what I can do for that core expression of my emotional state. That would be mindfulness. \n  \n  \nOctober 26\, 2021  #188  IDEAS OF HAPPINESS \n  \nThis one is so very true. I have seen this in my own life\, as well as numerous others. There is an oblivion we develop around ideas of happiness: If only…when I get/do/become…etc….then I’ll be happy. Yet\, how often do we find ourselves in the “ideal” and still not happy! Have you ever noticed this in your own life\, or that of others? (Sometimes I can see my own challenges more clearly when they are part of someone else’s life challenges.) \n  \nSo\, what does it really take for us to be truly happy? How do we get there? Or is it\, like many lessons I’ve learned\, already present fully developed and waiting to be “let out”? What do you think? Is this plausible? What’s your experience of this? \n  \nAt one point I had to learn (again?) what happiness was—an absence of sadness. Thankfully\, I had a great friend to help me talk my way out of the morass I had put myself into. (A story for another day.) It was the oddest idea at the time: If I wasn’t “sad\,” then I must be feeling happy! There’s lots of books and ideas about finding your happiness. Thây offers the simplest and easiest path to realize the happiness present already. \n  \n  \nOctober 28\, 2021  #189  THE APPLE TREE \n  \nThe first part of this reminds me of the Gravenstein apple tree in my grandparents’ back yard. The apples were great for applesauce. I loved them best when they were underripe—tart and yet sweet\, with a crisp crunch. They never became mealy\, like red or yellow Delicious. They were also good for pies! But I digress. Thây’s point was about paying attention—being mindful of living beings: (entities\, not all of which are sentient). It’s not hard to do\, just pay attention and act on what you observe in the moment; no grand schemes or plans required. Just be in the now…. \n  \nI haven’t seen a tree in over 14 years. Not up close or on any sort of regular basis. But I am surrounded by plenty of beings in need (?) of my attentive presence in the now. I can give that to them\, and myself too\, by remembering to breathe and not attach to what happens—what I hear\, or what others do. I can set an intention to be\, to be present\, to be attentive (as needed)\, to respond (as needed)\, and to offer compassion for that being. Maybe that’s your Apple Tree too?! Watch ‘em grow. \n  \n—Michel Deforge \n* \n  \nEach leaf of grass\, each single spear\, whether it be green blade or brown blade\, is the resting place of each night’s dreams that turn into mist and dew. \n  \nSome of the dreams grow into the ground to grow once again more loves to hold more dreams\, while some evaporate into sky and return to the lakes\, rivers and seas\, and become dreams once again. \n  \nOn a full-moon night\, when all is covered in mist and dew\, upon the grass a million drops will rest like shivering diamonds twinkling in the moonlight. The grass in a small patch could hold the dreams of the whole world for us to behold. \n  \n—Rocky Hutchinson \n* \n  \nReflections in the Heart (#332) \n  \n“Everything—the trees\, the wind\, the birds\, the mountains\, everything inside us and around us—wants to reflect itself in us. We don’t have to go anywhere to obtain the truth. We only need to be still\, and things will reveal themselves in the still water of our heart.” (from Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh) \n  \nThank goodness! Is this telling me that I don’t have to apologize for\, or explain\, or defend my lack of desire to travel??? To be somewhere else—some exotic\, exciting\, stimulating somewhere else? Everybody I know loves and lives for travel: Italy\, Argentina\, Croatia\, Greece… And as soon as they return\, they’re planning for the next great adventure. And I’m sure they all are ‘great adventures.’ They say to me\, “You have the time\, you have the money\, why don’t you just go?” But… I love being here\, right here\, at home. \n  \nHere is my thought: we moved away from Portland fourteen years ago. Ever since then\, when people ask me what’s our next travel plan\, what’s our next destination\, I reply\, “Here. Right here. We are the destination! Nowhere to go. This is it.” \n  \nAnd there is a delicious stillness to it. People say\, “But don’t you feel isolated up there? Don’t you feel alone?” Isolated\, no. Alone— deliciously\, yes. And some people say\, “Isn’t it…boring? Sometimes?” No way. Why\, just the other day\, while walking Lolo up on the canal\, I encountered a pickup truck with two young guys. They hopped out and asked if I had seen a couple of cows wandering around loose. “Why no\,” I said\, “I haven’t. Where did they wander away from?” “Oh\, from the Mountain Meat Packing Company up there on Miller Road.” I burst out laughing and said\, “Well\, friends\, if I see them I’m going to round them up and hide them in my back yard!” So in that random encounter I sure wouldn’t call any part of it boring. Would you? I thought not. And moreover\, if I don’t want to feel alone\, I can drive two miles up to Parkdale\, population 430—a bustling metropolis—and hang out at the post office. \n  \nWhen I am alone\, when things are in their stillness\, I can—as I call it—ponder and wander. It is when my thoughts can have the space to be the most creative\, and ‘productive\,’ (e.g. thoughts becoming material for a short story)\, or when things just settle into quietude. I am not isolated. I am not alone. \n  \nMy heart is in my home; my home is in my heart.  \n  \n—Jude Russell \n* \n  \nA humble recent poem in case it might be useful. \n  \nI woke up with the phrase in mind\, “Friendly corner.” What that mean? I asked this in my mind\, and into my mind came the image of a great old tree…so I wrote the poem to learn the story of this good thing: \n  \n  \n                    Friendly Corner \n  \nPeople use it to give directions. For neighbors\,  \nit’s the nexus. If we had no church or school\, \nthis is where we’d gather\, for it’s all about  \nthe great old tree—that’s why children come. \nFor the wee ones\, a root hump throne makes you  \nqueen of all you see. A little older\, you can ride  \nthe long low limb for horse\, and race the wind.  \nOlder yet\, climb ladder branches to find the hollow  \nhouse for dreams. Is it any wonder mothers meet \nto share their joys and sorrows? Sometimes fathers\,  \ntoo. Is this where you want to live\, and what you  \nwant to see? There’s just one way: plant the tree. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nWith our thoughts we create worlds\, then live in them. Each day\, sometimes from one moment to the next\, we might find ourself in a Hell. Or a Paradise. Once we get the hang of it\, perfect happiness can be ours in the blink of an eye. Our life is short. This day is precious. There is no other. \n  \nA few days after I wrote the previous brief meditation\, I was inspired by Michel’s meditation\, A BABY CRIES. Thich Nhat Hanh had written that we should treat our anger the way a mother would treat a crying baby\, by holding it tenderly. In his meditation\, Michel begins by saying: “I wonder\, how many of us are scared of babies in some fashion—their neediness we can’t meet\, their fragility we may fracture\, their delicate frame\, or emotional state\, and more?” In the July issue\, I proposed that people try a baby meditation: imagining being a baby\, looking out at the world without language\, concepts\, identity\, regrets\, or problems. Michel’s meditation made me imagine another meditation. Here it is: \n  \nWhen you are by yourself\, and no one is watching\, cross your arms across your chest and imagine that you are holding a newborn baby against your body. Really feel it! Okay\, now imagine that the baby is you. Hold your baby self tenderly in your arms and love your baby self with all your heart. \n  \nThat’s the meditation. We all need to love ourself. For many people this is difficult. For some\, it feels almost impossible. We all started our life journey as tiny babies. That innocent\, fragile\, perfect being is who we are. I’m hoping that this meditation will help us to feel deeply the truth of this. \n  \nThis might also be a healing exercise for those who\, like Michel\, have not been around a baby for many years. \n  \n—Johnny Stallings \n* \n  \nNot long ago I came across a poem that Jack Kerouac wrote to his former wife (Kerouac being the beat-era writer who inspired many of us to lead FULL lives\, no matter what).  His poem includes this little passage that I’ve been savoring since I read it: \n  \nPractice kindness all day to everybody \nand you will realize you’re already \nin heaven now. \n  \nThanks Jack\, and thanks Johnny.       \n  \nlove\,    \n  \n—Bill Faricy \n* \n  \n(As I was putting the finishing touches on this dialogue\, I discovered a fresh new poem on Kim’s FaceBook page. It’s perfect for our Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue.) (JS) \n  \n     My Infrastructure \n  \nThat gate latch—loose. \nShovel and hoe—dull. \nDripping faucet—priority. \nFrayed shoelace—on the list. \nConnectivity—upgrade overdue. \nBasement storage—disaster. \nEyes\, teeth\, weight\, feet— \nyears of deferred maintenance. \nPreparation for the big one—a joke. \nGrasp of reality—in shambles. \nSo—where to begin? \n  \n—Kim Stafford
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/meditation-mindfulness-dialogue-11-15-21/
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BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20211125
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20211209
DTSTAMP:20260427T100107
CREATED:20211125T200308Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20250718T125819Z
UID:2483-1637798400-1639007999@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  11/25/21
DESCRIPTION:  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nNovember 25\, 2021 \n  \n  \nThis is a theater piece I wrote a while back. I performed it once\, at the First Unitarian Church of Portland. (J.S.) \n  \n  \nGoldfinches! \na theatrical monologue \n  \nthis is a story about stories \n  \nand about something that we might call “the storyless state” \n  \njoseph campbell wrote a book called the hero with a thousand faces about a kind of story that is found throughout history and all over the world that he called “the hero’s journey” \n  \nwe can use the hero’s journey as a metaphor for our life \n  \nand i would like to use it as the structure for this evening’s entertainment \n  \nthe hero’s journey begins with the call to adventure \n  \nwe have all already answered the call to adventure by coming here tonight \n  \nwe could have stayed home and watched tv \n  \nbut instead we left the comfort and safety and security of our homes—for what? \n  \nwe don’t know \n  \nand that is where the hero journeys: into the unknown \n  \ninto a dark wood\, or a cave\, or to the bottom of the sea \n  \none of the main things about the unknown is that you don’t know what you will find \n  \ni answered the call to adventure by deciding to write and perform a theatrical monologue \n  \nwhy would i want to undertake such a thing? \n  \nthat brings me to a little story about my life… \n  \nwhen i graduated from high school\, i went to college just like i was supposed to \n  \nbut i had never liked school \n  \nit always felt like a prison to me \n  \none day i realized that going to school was optional \n  \nand i could opt not to go \n  \nwhich i did \n  \nnow that is the age when you are supposed to choose a career and get with the program \n  \nbut i graduated from maui high school in 1969\, during the hippie era \n  \nwe are very prone to conformity at that age—maybe throughout life—and somehow i found myself conforming to the hippie form of “non-conformity” \n  \nwith long hair and oddball clothing and bare feet and all that \n  \nthat was how i wanted to present myself to the world \n  \ni felt more at home in this costume than in a white shirt\, suit and tie \n  \nnow\, “hippie” is not really a career choice and in fact\, i neglected to choose an occupation \n  \ni’ve held a variety of odd jobs—i once spent 18 months testing beet pulp pellets for hardness\, durability and fine particle content \n  \nfor many years i found the familiar question “what do you do?” to be difficult to answer \n  \nnow that i’m old\, i can look back on my life and ask: “what is my job?” \n  \nor\, better yet\, “what did i come here to do?” \n  \nand the answer\, i think—or at least one answer is: to gather people together \n  \nand so that is why i had the hare-brained idea of writing and performing a theatrical monologue \n  \nit’s a trick to get people to gather together \n  \nand here we are \n  \nso\, what happens after the hero answers the call to adventure? \n  \nhe or she goes into the wilderness—the unknown—on a quest for something \n  \nand sometimes you know what you are seeking and sometimes you don’t \n  \nbut in the unknown you always find something \n  \nand typically\, the hero encounters obstacles or difficulties \n  \nand meets magic helpers \n  \nand finds a treasure—which is probably guarded by a dragon or something \n  \nand the hero kills the dragon or at least tricks it \n  \nand steals the treasure \n  \nand returns home with something of value—not just for himself or herself—but for everyone \n  \nnow here’s an interesting thing: each one of us has treasure within \n  \neach one of us is the treasure \n  \nso\, why do we have to go down into a cave or to the bottom of the sea to find it? \n  \nwell\, that’s a good question \n  \nhere’s a story that is found in many cultures: \n  \nbefore we are born\, we have a special gift \n  \nand in the process of being born\, we lose the gift \n  \nand it is our task to find out what our gift is and then give it to everyone \n  \nfor example\, you might have a gift of music \n  \nand not know it \n  \nand you need to discover that you have it before you can share it with others \n  \nbut if you do\, your gift blesses everyone \n  \nanother version of this story is: \n  \nwhen we are born\, we forget who we are \n  \nand who we are is god \n  \nand we have to re-discover this \n  \nwe have to remember what has been forgotten \n  \nthe greek word for this is “anamnesis”—remembering what has been forgotten \n  \nso that is one version of our hero’s journey—we have to go to the bottom of the sea\, or to the first unitarian church\, or wherever\, to remember who we are \n  \nand we have to do this every day \n  \ngoing to sleep every night is like dying \n  \nand every morning we wake up and it’s a new day \n  \nwe have been reborn \n  \nand it’s great if we were happy yesterday\, but it doesn’t really help us to be happy today \n  \nand we need to find happiness today \n  \nand what worked yesterday will not work today \n  \nwe have to try something new \n  \nand where is the new found? \n  \nin the unknown \n  \nand so\, in a way\, we all may have thought we were coming here just to entertain or be entertained\, but actually we came here because we have to save our own life \n  \nwe have to be reborn \n  \nnow\, as the storyteller\, or entertainer\, i guess it’s supposed to be my job to come up with something really fantastic \n  \nyou know\, the greatest theatrical monologue you’ve ever heard\, or whatever \n  \nbut i’m not too worried about that\, because\, as far as i’m concerned\, i’ve already done my job\, which is to gather us together \n  \nand i don’t have to bring a great treasure\, because you are\, we are\, the treasure \n  \nand i have a kind of foolproof method of creating a magical\, fantastic\, wonderful experience\, which is: at the end of my monologue\, we will have a dialogue \n  \nand a dialogue circle cannot fail to be a perfect thing \n  \nand so i’d like to reassure anyone who is worried that this evening will be something less than perfect—that is not gonna happen! \n  \nit’s gonna be perfect \n  \nbecause however lame or inadequate my “entertaining” monologue is\, we will all have an opportunity to remedy that together in the dialogue circle \n  \nokay\, back to our hero’s journey\, which is our journey into story and storylessness \n  \nwilliam butler yeats said that each person has their own myth and that one of your jobs as a poet\, or just as a human being\, is to find out what your myth is \n  \nthat goes back to the idea of remembering what has been forgotten \n  \ni’d like to talk about a couple kinds of stories\, which i call: \n  \nidentity and mythos \n  \nidentity refers to the stories we tell ourselves about who we are \n  \nand mythos refers to our stories about the world \n  \nnow i am going to tell you a little story about my mythos \n  \nmany years ago\, when i was young\, i read a story by fyodor dostoevsky called “the dream of a ridiculous man” \n  \ni loved the story \n  \nit really resonated with me\, as they say \n  \nhere’s the story: \n  \nthere’s a guy who is depressed \n  \nlife has no meaning for him \n  \nhe feels that nothing makes any difference \n  \nhe decides to kill himself \n  \nhe buys a gun \n  \nhe’s just waiting for the right moment to do the deed \n  \nand he’s walking home and he sees a star in the sky and decides: “tonight is the night” \n  \nbut then a little girl comes up to him and wants his help \n  \nher mother is dying or is in some very bad situation and the little girl is crying and trying to get this guy to come with her \n  \nbut he doesn’t help the little girl \n  \nhe goes home so that he can commit suicide \n  \nbut he can’t get the little girl out of his mind \n  \nand he feels like he has to figure something out before he dies \n  \nand while he’s sitting there\, trying to figure it all out he falls asleep and dreams a dream \n  \nand this is his dream: \n  \nhe dreams that he kills himself \n  \nand he goes to another planet\, which is like earth\, except that it is paradisal \n  \nthere is no fear or war or hatred \n  \nit is a world where everyone lives in love \n  \nand in his dream he ruins everything in this perfect world \n  \nhe brings about a fall\, very much like what happens in the story of adam and eve \n  \nand the love planet gets worse and worse until it resembles our own \n  \nand then he wakes up \n  \nand he has a very strong feeling that he has seen the truth—that our life could be completely transformed\, it could be perfect\, if only we would love each other \n  \nso that’s dostoevsky’s story \n  \nand i liked it so much that i decided to perform it \n  \nbut it seemed too short for an evening in the theater\, so i added a piece that i had written called “columbus” \n  \ni wrote columbus in 1992\, for the 500th anniversary of columbus’ first voyage to the western hemisphere \n  \ni grew up with the story that columbus was a great hero who had discovered america \n  \nin my version there’s this guy who is drunk and he claims to be christopher columbus \n  \nand it isn’t explained whether this man is delusional\, or if he is the spirit of christopher columbus\, back from the dead\, or whatever \n  \nanyhow\, this christopher columbus is self-medicating with alcohol because he is in a lot of pain \n  \nin his version\, he didn’t discover anything—people already lived here \n  \nand they were a beautiful people—the taino—and they lived without war\, in a kind of paradise \n  \nand he brought about a fall \n  \nthe taino are no more \n  \nand my blubbering drunken christopher columbus wanted everyone to know that he had seen and understood something—that people can be beautiful and innocent and loving \n  \nhe had seen it with his own eyes \n  \nand it was only after i had put these two pieces together that i realized that they had the same theme: \n  \nparadise\, fall\, and a vision of a possible return to paradise \n  \nand i thought: “maybe this is my myth” \n  \npeople tend to think of paradise as something that may have existed in the past\, or which might exist in the future—maybe even after we die \n  \nbut paradise is this world in which we live—just as it is \n  \nthis gathering is paradise \n  \nand everyone sitting here is perfect \n  \nis paradise \n  \nso it seems to me \n  \nthis is my mythos—the story i tell myself about the world \n  \nnow it may be objected: “how can this world be paradise when it is obviously all screwed up?” \n  \ngood question \n  \ninstead of arguing whether the world is in fact perfect or whether it is all screwed up\, i would like to explore the sense in which it seems to me that the world is perfect \n  \nimagine\, for a moment\, a goldfinch \n  \na goldfinch is perfect \n  \na goldfinch does not need to be improved \n  \nthe very idea is absurd \n  \neverything is like the goldfinch \n  \neach one of us is a goldfinch \n  \nperfect \n  \nthis is my thesis \n  \nmy mythos \n  \num\, so where are we on our hero’s journey this evening? \n  \nokay\, so you answered the call to adventure by coming here \n  \nand your guide\, your magic helper\, on this journey through the dark wood of this evening is me \n  \nan unreliable guide! \n  \nand now we’re lost! \n  \nbut according to the unreliable guide\, the trickster-helper\, that’s okay \n  \naccording to me\, getting lost is a perfectly acceptable variant of the hero’s journey \n  \nlet’s take an example from alice in wonderland \n  \nalice says that she feels like maybe she’s lost and wonders which path she should take \n  \nand the cheshire cat asks her where she is going \n  \nand she replies that she doesn’t know \n  \nand he says: “then it doesn’t matter which path you take” \n  \nand that’s kind of like us \n  \nexcept that we don’t need to get anywhere\, because we are already here \n  \nthat’s another common story theme \n  \nthe bold adventurer travels the world and ends up returning home and finding the treasure under his or her own hearth \n  \nhearth equals heart \n  \nthat’s where our treasure is \n  \nnot far away \n  \nand what is the point of this theatrical monologue? \n  \nit is to go forth and return home \n  \nto the silence which preceded the story \n  \nthe world is always larger than our picture of the world \n  \nour descriptions and explanations are like cartoons \n  \nit’s like the difference between looking at a postcard of multnomah falls and standing in front of multnomah falls \n  \nor as mark twain said: the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning \n  \nin this analogy\, my “entertaining” theatrical monologue is the lightning bug \n  \nand what is the lightning? \n  \nyou are the lightning \n  \ni am the lightning \n  \nthe lightning is us—just as we are \n  \nwords are useful in reminding us of the inadequacy of words \n  \nthe gold that each of us came here to find\, whether we knew it or not\, is each other \n  \nwe tend to believe that the stories we tell ourselves are true \n  \nthe friendly person lives in a friendly world \n  \nthe fearful person lives in a dangerous world \n  \nwe imagine a world and then we live in that world \n  \nand who is the person who lives in this imagined world? \n  \ni think it works something like this: \n  \nwhen we are born\, we cannot speak or understand what people are saying to us \n  \nbut very quickly we get the hang of it\, and by the time we are four—even earlier—we are quite fluent in speaking and understanding the language that our parents speak \n  \nas we grow up we learn whether we are a boy or a girl\, whether we are smart or stupid\, whether we are beautiful or unattractive\, whether great things are expected of us\, or whether we’ll never amount to much \n  \nby our early twenties we should have everything figured out: \n  \nwe might be a beautiful republican woman \n  \nor an angry environmentalist \n  \nwe could be a skater\, a scientist\, or a sinner \n  \na buddhist\, a baptist\, an atheist\, a plumber\, a poet\, or a certified public accountant \n  \nwe might be fat\, depressed\, friendly\, ambitious\, lazy\, sexy\, shy\, anxious\, optimistic\, pessimistic \n  \nbut whatever we have become\, whatever we believe\, we are sort of stuck with it \n  \nit’s impressive and amazing that we can create an identity and a mythos \n  \nit’s absolutely necessary that we do this \n  \nbut it becomes a kind of prison\, from which it seems there is no escape \n  \nwe are fictional characters\, living in fictional worlds of our own creation \n  \nend of story? \n  \nwell\, sort of \n  \nbecause this is prelude to the storyless state \n  \nin addition to our very impressive ability to think and to speak\, we have the wonderful ability to be still \n  \nto be awake and alert \n  \neach one of us is nourished by a silence that has no beginning or end \n  \nnot confined within our descriptions\, explanations\, thoughts\, memories\, stories and imaginings \n  \nfearless\, loving\, carefree \n  \nnot in the world\, we are the world \n  \na world beyond our ken \n  \nwhere everything and everyone is miraculous \n  \nperfect \n  \nlike a raincloud\, a stone \n  \na goldfinch \n  \nthank you                                                                                                              \n  \n  \n  \n—Johnny Stallings
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-11-25-21/
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DTSTART;TZID=America/Los_Angeles:20211128T150000
DTEND;TZID=America/Los_Angeles:20211128T170000
DTSTAMP:20260427T100107
CREATED:20211127T180347Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20211127T182421Z
UID:2490-1638111600-1638118800@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:Bibliophiles Unanimous!: Mythology  11/28/21
DESCRIPTION:  \nBeloved Bibliophiles!  \n  \nTodd suggested MYTHOLOGY as our topic for Sunday\, November 28th\, at 3 pm (PST). Here’s the link to the Zoom gathering: \n  \nhttps://us02web.zoom.us/j/86949399028 \n  \nI hope to see you there!  \n  \npeace\, love & happiness  \nJohnny \n  \n 
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/bibliophiles-unanimous-mythology-11-28-21/
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