BEGIN:VCALENDAR
VERSION:2.0
PRODID:-//The Open Road:  a learning community - ECPv6.15.3//NONSGML v1.0//EN
CALSCALE:GREGORIAN
METHOD:PUBLISH
X-WR-CALNAME:The Open Road:  a learning community
X-ORIGINAL-URL:https://openroadpdx.com
X-WR-CALDESC:Events for The Open Road:  a learning community
REFRESH-INTERVAL;VALUE=DURATION:PT1H
X-Robots-Tag:noindex
X-PUBLISHED-TTL:PT1H
BEGIN:VTIMEZONE
TZID:America/Los_Angeles
BEGIN:DAYLIGHT
TZOFFSETFROM:-0800
TZOFFSETTO:-0700
TZNAME:PDT
DTSTART:20230312T100000
END:DAYLIGHT
BEGIN:STANDARD
TZOFFSETFROM:-0700
TZOFFSETTO:-0800
TZNAME:PST
DTSTART:20231105T090000
END:STANDARD
BEGIN:DAYLIGHT
TZOFFSETFROM:-0800
TZOFFSETTO:-0700
TZNAME:PDT
DTSTART:20240310T100000
END:DAYLIGHT
BEGIN:STANDARD
TZOFFSETFROM:-0700
TZOFFSETTO:-0800
TZNAME:PST
DTSTART:20241103T090000
END:STANDARD
END:VTIMEZONE
BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20231207
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20240104
DTSTAMP:20260425T134402
CREATED:20231207T210507Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20231207T211351Z
UID:4261-1701907200-1704326399@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  12/7/23
DESCRIPTION:Grinnell Lake in Glacier National Park \n  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nDecember 7\, 2023 \n  \nFrom Rocky: \nOctober 18\, 2023\, 5:40 a.m. \nDear Johnny \n  \nHello and good day to you. I hope that this letter finds you in a moment of peace & joy. I am just starting my day here & it is a beautiful day & the autumn sunrise is starting to fill the sky. I love this time of year. Between October & April is the time of year I love the most. The holidays & friends & food! The feeling you get from being close to the ones you love. Well\, I have to start the day now. I’ll be back soon. \n  \nOctober 19\, 2023\, 6:11 a.m. \n  \nDo you know the dreams you dream at night that let you know everything is alright? I had one of them last night. A friend & I just sat & talked about the last 25 years of our lives. It would seem we did it in the blink of an eye\, or\, 40 winks. We just sat and talked & it was so nice to see her\, even if it was only in a dream. \n  \nOctober 30\, 2023\, 5:10 a.m. \nDear Johnny & Nancy\, \n  \nIt’s a very cold morning here & it is also beautiful Autumn out\, my favorite time of the year. Family\, friends\, food & good times. I had an amazing October this year. \n  \nThe harvesting of the last of the Summer’s growth & the tilling of the earth for the crop. The falling of the leaves\, each one of them landing on the bed of my heart. Autumn has always been dear to me\, even when I was a child. \n  \nThe smell of pies & of chopping wood\, the smoke from the chimneys as the smell fills the neighborhood. Children in costumes\, bags full of candy and running noises—running towards Thanksgiving with their families. With Christmas on the way. \n  \nIt was so nice to talk to you two while you were picking out a tree for your yard. I closed my eyes & could see you shopping together. I know you came to the right one and it will look great in your yard for many years to come. I wish I could have been there to plant it for you\, while you enjoyed some coffee while I dug the hole. I know the digging around there is not so easy. I’m more than happy to do these things for you two. I want to enjoy life with my friends & family. \n  \nThe last few days have been so cold here! It is going to be one of those years\, I think. Long Cold Winter! \n  \n—Rocky Hutchinson \n* \n  \nKatie sent this: \n  \nGate A-4 \n  \nWandering around the Albuquerque Airport Terminal\, after learning \nmy flight had been delayed four hours\, I heard an announcement:\n“If anyone in the vicinity of Gate A-4 understands any Arabic\, please\ncome to the gate immediately.” \n  \nWell—one pauses these days. Gate A-4 was my own gate. I went there. \n  \nAn older woman in full traditional Palestinian embroidered dress\, just\nlike my grandma wore\, was crumpled to the floor\, wailing. “Help\,”\nsaid the flight agent. “Talk to her. What is her problem? We\ntold her the flight was going to be late and she did this.” \n  \nI stooped to put my arm around the woman and spoke haltingly.\n“Shu-dow-a\, Shu-bid-uck Habibti? Stani schway\, Min fadlick\, Shu-bit-\nse-wee?” The minute she heard any words she knew\, however poorly\nused\, she stopped crying. She thought the flight had been cancelled\nentirely. She needed to be in El Paso for major medical treatment the\nnext day. I said\, “No\, we’re fine\, you’ll get there\, just later\, who is\npicking you up? Let’s call him.” \n  \nWe called her son\, I spoke with him in English. I told him I would\nstay with his mother till we got on the plane and ride next to \nher. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just \nfor the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while\nin Arabic and found out of course they had ten shared friends. Then I \nthought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know\nand let them chat with her? This all took up two hours. \n  \nShe was laughing a lot by then. Telling of her life\, patting my knee\,\nanswering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool\ncookies—little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and\nnuts—from her bag—and was offering them to all the women at the gate.\nTo my amazement\, not a single woman declined one. It was like a\nsacrament. The traveler from Argentina\, the mom from California\, the\nlovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same powdered\nsugar. And smiling. There is no better cookie. \n  \nAnd then the airline broke out free apple juice from huge coolers and two\nlittle girls from our flight ran around serving it and they\nwere covered with powdered sugar\, too. And I noticed my new best friend—\nby now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag\,\nsome medicinal thing\, with green furry leaves. Such an old country tradi-\ntion. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere. \n  \nAnd I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and I thought\, This\nis the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in that\ngate—once the crying of confusion stopped—seemed apprehensive about\nany other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women\, too. \n  \nThis can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost. \n  \n—Naomi Shihab Nye \n  \nI think this is perfect for our times. The importance of language and listening and compassion can lead to deep understanding and inter-connectedness.  \n  \n—Katie Radditz \n* \n  \nTodd Oleson shared this: \n  \nKurt Vonnegut wrote:  \n  \nWhen I was 15\, I spent a month working on an archaeological dig. I was talking to one of the archaeologists one day during our lunch break and he asked those kinds of “getting to know you” questions you ask young people: Do you play sports? What’s your favorite subject? And I told him\, no I don’t play any sports. I do theater\, I’m in choir\, I play the violin and piano\, I used to take art classes. \n  \nAnd he went WOW. That’s amazing! And I said\, “Oh no\, but I’n not any good at ANY of them.” \n  \nAnd he said something then that I will never forget and which absolutely blew my mind because no one had ever said anything like it to me before: “I don’t think being good at things is the point of doing them. I think you’ve got all these wonderful experiences with different skills\, and that all teaches you things and makes you an interesting person\, no matter how well you do them.” \n  \nAnd that honestly changed my life. Because I went from a failure\, someone who hadn’t been talented enough at anything to excel\, to someone who did things because I enjoyed them. I had been raised in such an achievement-oriented environment\, so inundated with the myth of Talent\, that I thought it was only worth doing things if you could “Win” at them. \n* \n  \nDriving to the Headlands  \non the 23rd of December \n  \nWhat a light this morning! \nGlowing peach balloons for clouds\, \ntowering bouquets of them\, \nsuspended by an invisible clown \nacross the heavens. \n  \nAt last the greening of our hills comes to pass\, \nlike iridescent birds beside a charcoal sky. \nA jungle phoenix whose feathers color \nwith inhalation and sunlight. \n  \nAnd there’s an egret \ndoing tightrope tricks \nabove the marsh on my way to work. \nAll white and long necked\, \nshe bows and scrapes  \nfrom her telephone wire \nacrobat in nature’s circus\, \nwaiting for applause. \n  \n—Gail Lester\, from Transformed by Other Places \n* \n  \n           Water Song \n  \nI flow lower\, slower\, sliding wet in rivulet \nor defile\, creep deep\, seep under\, sift through\, \nturn blue\, mist up from wave or pool\, fool \nto be gone\, abscond beyond accountability\, \nmyriad molecule sipped by Caesar\, fog \nfurrowing battlefields\, shining shields\, \nsurrender’s yield sealed sacred\, feeling \nmy way out from thicket or conflict\, \nhealing drought\, ooze from wounds\, \nsound of splash\, blood from lash\, river’s \ndash from peak to sea\, pleased to meet \nyou\, travel through you\, be lost\, ghost \nin your shape\, rain cape descending\, \nsending my battalions over islands\, \nstorm stallions stamping feet of lace\, \ndawn song\, small saint\, clear paint\, \nface dressed\, soul blessed\, best taste\, \nnot much\, a healing touch\, and gone. \n  \n—Kim Stafford\, from As the Sky Begins to Chang \n(forthcoming as a print book from Red Hen Press\, April 2024\, and also as an audiobook) \n  \n \n(QR code for “Water Song” poem by Kim Stafford) \n* \n  \nJ Kahn sent a link to “Nature’s Mystery: Watch the Hypnotic Dance of a Starling Murmuration”: \n  \n \n  \nHe says: “I personally believe it is an example of meta-consciousness.” \nCheck it out! \n* \nHonesty \n  \nMirroring one another \nthe herb pale and round \nas the moon is pale \nand round shows in the house \nof light that all favors \nhave been showered upon us. \n  \nThe object\, barred by the dragon\, \ncinnabar\, sulphur\, and mercury \njoined to find salt\, we’re keeping \nthe wax warm for the inscription. \n  \nThe rhythm of hymns \nprotects us from the snake. \nThe tree\, branches \nthrough each state\, \nvapor rises as the eagle rises \nthe serpent held aloft eats his tail. \n  \nNature is one substance \nin different forms\, \nthe very last thing left behind.   \n  \n—Elizabeth Domike \n* \n  \nThere is a ribbon \nso deep in shadowed rubble \nit is colorless. \n  \n—Alex Tretbar \n* \n  \nIf we could read the secret history of our enemies\, we should see sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility. \n  \n—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow  \n  \n(quoted by Jack Kornfield in The Art of Forgiveness\, Lovingkindness\, and Peace\, p. 32) \n  \n There is no statistical evidence that harsh punishment\, including the death penalty\, acts as a deterrent to crime—(109 countries have abolished the death penalty). On the international level\, the idea that the world can be improved by war has long been a popular one. The results so far are not encouraging. Twenty-five hundred years ago\, Buddha said: \n  \nIn this world \nHate never yet dispelled hate. \nOnly love dispels hate. \nThis is the law\, \nAncient and inexhaustible. \n  \n—Dhammapada\, translated by Thomas Byrom \n  \nAnd as Tiny Tim says: \nGod Bless Us\, Every One! \n  \n—Johnny Stallings
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-12-7-23/
END:VEVENT
BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20231215
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20240115
DTSTAMP:20260425T134402
CREATED:20231215T214256Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20250717T162748Z
UID:4277-1702598400-1705276799@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:Meditation & Mindfulness  12/15/23
DESCRIPTION:  \nOpen Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue \n  \nDecember 15\, 2023 \nLet us be kind and compassionate to remove the sadness of the world. \n—tag on a Yogi Tea bag \n* \n  \nSomeone at a lecture asked Suzuki Roshi about psychoanalysis. \n  \nIn answer he said\, “You think the mind is like a pond that you throw things in\, and they sink to the bottom\, like old shoes\, and later they rise to the surface. But actually\, there’s no such thing as the mind!” \n  \n—from To Shine One Corner of the World: moments with Suzuki Roshi \n* \n  \nWhat Christmas Means to Me \n  \nIt took me a long time to discover the error in presuming to write something with a title like “What Christmas Means.” But I’m an authority on “What Christmas Means to Me.” Who else? \n  \nIt seems to me that every spoken or written sentence should begin with the phrase “it seems to me.” But that would be tedious. I am not and you are not in a position to make pronouncements about the way things are.  \n  \nOnly Donald Trump is in that position. Just kidding.  \n  \nAnd so\, dear reader\, don’t take offense. This does not pretend to be the right way to look at Christmas. Just my way. \n  \nThe birth of Jesus is a symbolic event\, not a historical one. What it symbolizes is that every baby born on Planet Earth is an incarnation of the Divine. \n  \nEnd of essay. That’s about all I’ve got to say on the subject\, but I enjoy saying it. \n  \n—Johnny Stallings\, from the forthcoming book The Nonstop Love-In \n* \n  \n  Earth Eve \n  \nYes\, we know that telling\, about the apple \nand the exile\, how one son slew the other\, \nso we descended from their legacy of loss  \nand violence\, and blamed our troubles \non a woman’s taste for sweet. But \n  \nin another telling she remained resident \nin green\, her daughters Wind and Willow \ndanced together\, could bless without fire \nor sacrifice\, could follow moth by night\, \nbutterfly by day\, moon and sun\, enough. \n  \nWhich story shall we tell the children: \nhow we failed\, or how they might live. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nBrandon sent these quotes: \n  \nWhen we love\, we always strive to become better than we are. When we strive to become better than we are\, everything around us becomes better too. \n  \nIt’s the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting. \n  \nThere is only one thing that makes a dream impossible to achieve: the fear of failure. \n  \nTell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams\, because every second of the search is a second’s encounter with God and with eternity.     \n  \n—Paulo Coelho\, The Alchemist \n  \n—Brandon Gillespie \n* \n  \n“It is very important to have at least one meal together every day. This meal should be an occasion to practice mindfulness\, and to be aware of how fortunate we are to be together. After we sit down we look at each person\, and breathing in and out\, smile to him or her for a few seconds. This practice can produce a miracle. It can make you real\, and it can make the others at the table real also.”—#359 “A Family Meal” from Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh \n  \nWelll—-ha ha ha! “A Family Meal\,” “an occasion to practice mindfulness\,” “breathing in and out\, smile to him or her for a few seconds…” I don’t know how many of the twenty three people at our Thanksgiving meal had a chance to enact these practices\, but I know that everyone laughed and hugged and ate and jabbered for hours and hours…and hours. One woman said\, “You don’t know me\, but Mary said she thought you wouldn’t mind…”  Another said\, “Oh I’m Sean’s son’s girlfriend and Sean thought it would be okay if…”  \n  \nOf course it was okay. It was a gorgeous\, sunny\, chilly day\, and the snowy mountain gleamed as white as the mounds of whipped cream on the pumpkin pies. Six kids under five years old caromed from wall to wall\, inside and outside. They poked at Lolo the dog’s nose and ears\, then shrieked and ran when she growled her old dog growl. We had to cook on the outside barbecue to get all the food ready; doors flung open and shut a hundred times. Cold air in\, warm air out. “Hey\, close that door!” “Can’t! Gotta’ heat up this ham because she has turkey in the oven!” Everyone\, it seems\, brought pies—pumpkin(s)\, apple\, peach\, blueberry/blackberry\, pecan…  One of the pumpkin pies had a huge slice carved out of it. Sister\, Holly\, waving her wine glass around\, announced\, “Pie before dinner is my motto!” \n  \nIn spite of all the chaos\, the meal went off without a hitch. Sisters and brother-in-law spent the night\, along with a few others who decided they were so comfortable they would\, too. \n  \nSo: Mindfulness? Not so much. Except for our singing of a round that my family has sung before each Thanksgiving meal since I was little. I passed out copies to groups of 4 or more; I sang for them to introduce the simple tune\, then instructed groups to chime in after a few bars. Everybody settled down\, and we sang. It sounded like a chorus of bells being rung. Ethereal. Holy. \n  \n    “Around the table now we praise the Lord of earth and heaven. \n     In grateful songs to thee we sing for all thy mercies giv’n.” \n  \nWe sang several rounds until the last group echoed away\,  “….for all thy mercies giv’n.” And there was silence for a hushed moment. I guess that was our “mindfulness moment\,” and we did all smile to each other\, and we were real. \n  \n—Jude Russell \n* \n  \nOpen the Door \n  \nOpen the door \nReceive the breath like a wave \nWeave a sense of calm \nWhisper soft and shallow \nResonate – an underground stream \nSmooth continuous deepening calm \nNourishing release \nFeet heavy\, lower legs settle \nStillness in the knees \nThighs heavy \nHips belly chest back \nSinking \nHands lower arms elbows upper arms \nShoulders – head heavy \nEffortless heaviness \nSilent silent \nPeace peace peace on the in breath \nPeace peace peace on the out breath \nBody infused with peace \nMind saturated with peace \nBecome peace \nAwareness \nPeace inside the body \nPeace outside the body \nPeace above the body \nPeace below the body \nSurrounding the body \nOn the breath – in the mind \nAbsorbed \nUnchanging \nUndisturbed \nThe source \n  \n—Elizabeth Domike \n* \n  \nClairvoyance \n  \nWhen you work in newspapers\, you’re always a few days in the future. On Tuesday you’re talking with your editor about Thursday\, and on Wednesday you’re talking about Friday. On Saturday I talk about nothing. I sit on the patio at 5 a.m. facing the eastern dark\, remembering how I tossed and turned in utero. I’m really not so intelligent as people think. I forget books as soon as I’ve read them\, articles as soon as I’ve written them. I got through all of Proust in five months but could tell you little about it\, other than how I superimposed my great loves over those of the narrator. When you work in newspapers\, “today” is always in the rear-view\, familiar but strange\, like your lover’s face when you see it in the mirror\, a speck of toothpaste in the corner of their backward smile. \n  \n—Alex Tretbar\, originally published in SAND \n* \n  \n5  “It was beginning winter” \n  \nIt was beginning winter  \nAn in-between time\,  \nThe landscape still partly brown: \nThe bones of weeds kept swinging in the wind\,  \nAbove the blue snow.  \n  \nIt was beginning winter\,  \nThe light moved slowly over the frozen field\,  \nOver the dry seed-crowns\,  \nThe beautiful surviving bones  \nSwinging in the wind.  \n  \nLight traveled over the wide field;  \nStayed.  \nThe weeds stopped swinging. \n The mind moved\, not alone\, \nThrough the clear air\, in the silence.  \n  \nWas it light?  \nWas it light within?  \nWas it light within light?  \nStillness becoming alive\,  \nYet still?  \n  \nA lively understandable spirit  \nOnce entertained you.  \nIt will come again.  \nBe still.  \nWait. \n  \n—from the poem “The Lost Son” by Theodore Roethke \n  \n“unto us a child is born” \nUnto all of us. Delana Nalin Kloster has been born unto us\, into our family and our loving\, wise tribe.  \nWe are blessed and so happy to have you friends around us. Even in this time that\, like all times\, is troubled and people feel hopeless—more war\, less water. \nBut a child comes into the world and all around this shining space\, there  \nis anticipation and hope!   \nA not so subtle shift; she comes like a force of nature\, hungry for life.   \n  \nDelana – named by her parents Kornvipa “Ying” and William Forest Kloster\, is an ancient name with many meanings in many cultures. It symbolizes the embodiment of beauty and love\, sunlight\, and resilience. \nNalin – in Sanskrit means Beautiful Lotus Flower. Named by her Thai Grandfather\, following the tradition of waiting in meditation for the right meaning\, \n  \nDelana Nalin arrives at Christmas time when millions of people are celebrating the birth of a child. \nMay she be a princess of Peace\, Love\, and Happiness \n  \n—Katie Radditz \n* \n  \nThis year is coming to an end. I just looked through the Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogues for 2023. It’s quite a treasure trove of beauty and inspiration! If\, from time to time you find yourself in need of either\, please visit the Meditation & Mindfulness Archive on the Open Road website: https://openroadpdx.com/event/open-road-meditation-mindfulness-archive/ \n  \nMuch love to everyone reading this!—now and in the year ahead. \n  \nJohnny
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/meditation-mindfulness-12-15-23/
END:VEVENT
BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20240104
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20240201
DTSTAMP:20260425T134402
CREATED:20240105T195145Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20240105T195145Z
UID:4318-1704326400-1706745599@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:peace\, love\, happiness & understanding  1/4/24
DESCRIPTION:Happy Family \n  \nTHE OPEN ROAD \npeace\, love\, happiness & understanding \n  \nJanuary 4\, 2024 \n  \nLive righteously and love everyone\, \nyou will build up around you an aura of light and love \n  \n—tag on a Yogi Tea bag \n* \n  \nBecause you are alive\, everything is possible. \nWaking up this morning\, I smile. \nTwenty-four brand new hours are before me. \nI vow to live fully in each moment\, \nand to look at all beings with eyes of compassion. \n  \n—from “Buddha True Meaning of Life by Thich Nhat Hanh\,” on YouTube \n* \n  \nWell\, it’s a new year. I wish you all an abundance of peace and love and joy. I’m enjoying a quiet morning—quiet outside and quiet within. Looking out the window at the clear blue sky. Drinking coffee. Doing nothing. It’s perfect. \n  \nFor this coming year\, I’m thinking of every day as a Day of Celebration. Today (1/1/24)\, of course\, I’ll celebrate New Year’s Day. On Thursday (1/4/24)\, I’ll celebrate friendship with my weekly dialogue group. On the sixth is Epiphany—when the Wise Men arrived with gifts for the divine child. (Every baby is an incarnation of the Divine!) It’s also Twelfth Night. Shakespeare’s company performed his play Twelfth Night for Queen Elizabeth in 1602. That’s something to celebrate! This coming Saturday\, the sixth\, we will be showing Bushra’s film A Midsummer Night’s Dream in Prison at the First Unitarian Church. After a Q & A with some of the actors\, we will celebrate together all the people who contributed to the success of the film\, and of our prison theater programs. Nancy and I will be celebrating Valentine’s Day in Guanajuato. (In Mexico\, they have a fiesta almost every day of the year!) May 3rd is Buster Cornelius Day. (Listen to “Buster Cornelius” by The Colorblind James Experience on YouTube.) On May 31st\, I’ll celebrate Walt Whitman’s 205th birthday by performing “Song of Myself”—as I often do. These are just a few of the many celebrations ahead. \n  \nWhen I’m in need of wisdom and inspiration\, I often turn to the great Russian clown-philosopher\, Slava Polunin. He says: \n  \n“I think that theatre was created to open doors and passages in the blind walls of everyday reality—doors that lead into other worlds…. \n  \nThe First Door \n  \nCelebration \n  \nLook at the crowds of people at a celebration—their faces are beaming with almost giddy smiles of happiness. I love a festive theatre\, a theatre of spectacle. I love it when even the most serious matters are discussed—perfectly naturally and inadvertently\, as it were—under the cover of some common festive prank. I don’t want to live in the workaday world\, and especially not when I’m on stage\, because it is a depressing world\, painted in grey with a smell of stuffy rooms. I love rich and vivid colors\, the kind that children use to paint. I love the profusion of aromas\, like you find in Hawaii. I love the lushness of sound\, even if it’s only the sound of cicadas trilling in the night… \n  \nThis is the teeming\, brimming world of celebration. A world that delights and astonishes\, crawls under your skin and haunts you for a long time afterwards—until such time when you finally accept the fact that a life of celebration is far more attractive than the day-to-day routine\, and that it only takes a tiny effort to learn to transform one’s daily life into a holiday. The world of celebration is filled with creativity. In this world each and every one of us can endlessly recreate and reinvent himself. \n  \nI don’t want to do anything that doesn’t bring joy to me\, to my friends and my audiences. This is how I’ve arranged my life\, and this is how I assemble my team. Any time I see someone who is full of joy\, whose life is a celebration\, I drag him into my show. I’d rather pass over a brilliant expert\, if he happens to be of a different spirit. \n  \nIn general\, I collect festive people—they radiate a wondrous light! Such people are few and far between\, but they do exist\, and they are spectacular. No matter what happens to them\, they never lose their spirit of celebration. And I try to learn from them. This is why I do everything I can to have such people near me. \n  \nFestive people are a bit like ambulance paramedics\, because whenever they show up\, you feel like you’ve been given a shot of mysterious optimism. Maybe we ought to set up a kind of emergency mental health service staffed with these people. In any event\, whenever I have to put together a touring company\, I always make sure we have some holiday people on board. It is very important for the whole team to be in high spirits. It is essential to have the walls of whatever theatre we happen to be in shaking with our raucous laughter! \n  \nCelebration of life is an enormous and very important subject….For now I will only say that I love celebrations. And I can spend a great deal of my time and energy making sure we put on a fabulous celebration. \n  \nAS A MATTER OF FACT\, ALL I’VE EVER DONE IN LIFE IS PUT ON CELEBRATIONS—WHETHER IT BE PERFORMANCES\, PROJECTS\, FESTIVALS\, OR JUST PARTIES FOR MY FRIENDS. I REALIZED THAT MY GREATEST PROJECT IS CALLED ‘CELEBRATION OF LIFE’\, AND THAT ITS PURPOSE IS TO TRANSFORM THE GREY WORLD OF OUR EVERYDAY HUMAN LIVES INTO A RICH\, COLORFUL\, ARTISTIC CELEBRATION.” \n  \n—from The Alchemy of Snowness by Slava Polunin \n  \nIn the year ahead\, I want to gather together often with friends—live or online—to celebrate our friendship\, and anything else we can think of. When alone\, I want to celebrate the miracle of having a precious human life on Planet Earth. \n  \n—Johnny Stallings \n* \n  \nKim sent this: \n  \nThought of you when I ran across this little blessing I sent to some youth “offenders” in a California prison a friend was working with…after they thanked me for some poems I had sent them: \n  \nI am with you.  \nWhat my breath made is for  \nyour breath. And the silence  \nbetween words–that too\,   \nis for you. For in silence  \nI exchange my sleepless nights   \nfor your day of release.  \nFor that moment I chant   \nevery morning on this page. \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nThe Three Wise Men \n  \nMaybe \nWere not \nConsidered \nWise \nOr even \nIn possession \nOf all \nTheir senses \nAt first. \n  \nMen \nWho suddenly \nDepart from \nFriends and family \nLucrative enterprises \nPositions \nOf power \nAnd  \nPlush thrones \nFor \nLong camel rides \nOf indeterminate \nDistance and duration \nOver forbidding \nForeign terrain \nIn the \nDead of Winter \nDrawn by a \nDistant star \nAre seldom \nConsidered \nWise. \n  \nMad? \nFoolish? \nYes. \nBut wise? \nNot likely. \n  \nYet \nWisdom is \nDistilled \nDrop by drop \nSlowly  \nOver time \nNot manufactured \nOvernight \nAnd now \nAges hence \nWe drink \nThat intoxicating \nLiquor \nBrewed from \nA \nCourageous \nPlodding \nHumble \nPilgrimage \nMade \nBy men \nBearing gifts \nIn the \nDarkness \nTo where \nAnd \nFor whom \nThey \nKnew not \nKnew only \nTo leave \nAll they \nKnew \nFor a long \nNight Journey \nToward a  \nBeckoning star. \n  \n—Will Hornyak
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/peace-love-happiness-understanding-1-4-24/
ATTACH;FMTTYPE=image/jpeg:https://openroadpdx.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/Resized_20231205_1552341.jpg
END:VEVENT
BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;TZID=America/Los_Angeles:20240106T150000
DTEND;TZID=America/Los_Angeles:20240106T180000
DTSTAMP:20260425T134402
CREATED:20231203T200547Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20240127T001053Z
UID:4252-1704553200-1704564000@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:A Midsummer Night's Dream in Prison at First Unitarian Church  1/6/24
DESCRIPTION:  \nA Midsummer Night’s Dream in Prison\, a documentary by Bushra Azzouz\, will be shown at First Unitarian Church in Portland–1226 SW Salmon Street–on January 6th\, at 3 pm. Following the screening there will be a Q & A\, featuring actors who were in our prison plays. \n  \nThen we will have a BIG CELEBRATION for all the people who helped make this film and all our prison plays possible! \n  \nHere’s a trailer for the film: \n  \n  \n \n  \n  \n  \nDON’T MISS THIS! \n  \npeace\, love & happiness \n  \nJohnny \n 
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/a-midsummer-nights-dream-in-prison-at-first-unitarian-church-1-6-24/
ATTACH;FMTTYPE=image/jpeg:https://openroadpdx.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/05/unnamed-29-2.jpg
END:VEVENT
BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;TZID=America/Los_Angeles:20240114T150000
DTEND;TZID=America/Los_Angeles:20240114T170000
DTSTAMP:20260425T134402
CREATED:20240110T191335Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20240216T171527Z
UID:4327-1705244400-1705251600@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:Bibliophiles Unanimous!  1/14/24
DESCRIPTION:  \nBeloved Bibliophiles!  \n  \nOur topic on Sunday\, January 14th\, is Histories!  \nWe’ll talk about different approaches to history. There are traditional histories that emphasize the deeds of “great men” like Napoleon\, Julius Caesar and Alexander the Great*–accounts of war and conquest\, the rise and fall of countries\, empires and civilizations. February is Black History Month. March is Women’s History Month. There are histories of Philosophy\, of Art\, of Theater\, and of Literature. Biographies are histories of individual people\, which often shed light on the time and place in which they lived. Now there are many ecological histories. There is a history of salt: \n  \n \n  \nThere is a history of the color red (featuring Cochineal Pirates): \n  \n \n  \nWhat other kinds of history are out there? What are your favorite history books? \nWe will gather once again on Zoom on Sunday\, January 14th\, at 3 pm (PST). Here’s the link: \n  \nhttps://us02web.zoom.us/j/87614013058 \n  \nI hope to see you there! \n  \npeace\, love & happiness!!! \n  \nJohnny \n  \n* Bonus Joke: \n  \nQ.  What do Alexander the Great and Smokey the Bear have in common? \nA.  Same middle name. \n 
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/bibliophiles-unanimous-1-14-24/
END:VEVENT
BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20240115
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20240301
DTSTAMP:20260425T134402
CREATED:20240115T191521Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20240115T193234Z
UID:4368-1705276800-1709251199@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:Martin Luther King Day! (1/15/24) & Black History Month in February
DESCRIPTION: \n\n\n\n\nToday is Martin Luther King Day!\n\n\n\n\n \n \n\n\n\nBlack History Month is coming up in February!\n\n\n\n\n \n \n\n\n\nBelow is a link to a speech Dr. King gave a few days after Rosa Parks was arrested for not sitting at the back of a bus in Montgomery\, Alabama\, in 1955. As far as I know\, it is the earliest recorded speech of of his. The quality of the recording is not very good\, but it’s a miracle that we have it. This YouTube video contains a transcription of the speech. \n \nSomething happens near the end. The people in the church realize that in this moment\, in this place\, the world is going to change. The roof comes off the church.\n \nI’ve listened to this recording many times. I cry every time\, without fail.\n\n\n\n \n\n\n\n\nhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5TmoFoG5P-U\n \n \n\npeace\, love & justice\n\nJohnny
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/martin-luther-king-day-black-history-month/
END:VEVENT
BEGIN:VEVENT
DTSTART;VALUE=DATE:20240115
DTEND;VALUE=DATE:20240215
DTSTAMP:20260425T134402
CREATED:20240117T214345Z
LAST-MODIFIED:20240117T214513Z
UID:4381-1705276800-1707955199@openroadpdx.com
SUMMARY:Meditation & Mindfulness  1/15/24
DESCRIPTION:  \nOpen Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue \n  \nJanuary 15\, 2023 \n  \nThe mind is its own place\, and in itself \nCan make a Heav’n of Hell\, a Hell of Heav’n. \n  \n—from “Paradise Lost” by John Milton \n* \n  \nA couple poems from Kim. I’d like to read the imaginary book that he wrote this prologue for: \n  \n                   Prologue \n  \nThis book should probably be banned \nbecause the author not only believes in  \nfreedom\, but practices freedom by talking  \nabout hard things that may distract you.  \nYou should probably not read this book  \nif you are afraid to see things in a new way\,  \nencounter ideas that require thought\, or  \ncome to know people you have discounted. \nIf anyone sees you reading this book\, they \nmay judge you in ways you can’t control.  \nThis book could cause young people to  \ndevelop open minds\, then—who knows \nwhat might happen? Maybe close this book  \nright now—unless you feel brave\, and free. \n  \n  \n                   Be Alive \n  \nSometimes you see it on the street \namong the many pedestrian pedestrians \ndragged by errands\, slouching toward work— \nthis one youth skipping with joy. \n  \nOr in the store where shoppers lean on carts  \nheaped with plunder\, one bright-eyed\,  \ngray-haired wisp of woman humming\,  \nbuoyant in the baking aisle. \n  \nDon’t die before you die. It’s possible\, even  \nin dark days to wake in wonder\, lift your gaze\,  \nmake them stare\, amaze the sleeping multitudes  \nby how you swim through air.  \n  \n—Kim Stafford \n* \n  \nI bless the redbrick \nobsolete city center \nfrom the nineteenth floor. \n  \n—Alex Tretbar \n* \n  \n#352  “Why Hurry to the Grave?” \n“There is no need for us to struggle to arrive somewhere else. We know that our final destination will be the cemetery. Why are we in a hurry to get there? Why not step in the direction of life\, which is in the present moment?” \n—from Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh \n  \nHahaha! Oh\, that Thich Nhat Hanh has a funny bone in his body! Why hurry to the grave\, indeed?! There’s way too much living to do: too many dahlias to plant; too many dogs to save; kids to teach\, and kids to learn from; prisons to badger; trails to find\, or trails to find me; bike routes to tackle; Asian dishes to cook—wait! African and Indian dishes to try; short stories to write…. \n  \nEvery day is a new day. Every moment is a new moment.  \n  \nI want to take up cardiac surgery; there are a few hearts I’d like to transplant. \n  \nSo I’d better get moving—this January 29th I will be 80 years old. Ack!!! Oh well\, my dad was planting 10” Christmas tree seedlings when he was 90 years old. \n  \n—Jude Russell \n* \n  \nJill sent this quote: \n  \nBe kind to people; you never know what they’re going through. They might look perfectly normal\, but if you could see into their heart of hearts\, you might discover that they’re a poet\, forced to wander the world noticing\, noticing\, noticing\, until they’re hearts give out. I should know: my brother is one such unfortunate. So you never can tell. \n  \n—Sofia Warren \n  \n—Jill Littlewood \n* \n  \nThe Pelican \n  \nFinding oneself alone \nlocked out\, just after dark \nin snow\, 15 degrees\, \nwith only one’s clothes and one’s wits \nsharpens awareness of vulnerability. \n  \nA bit like a knife finds one’s weak spots. \n  \nBut this is about wittering\, \nor lack thereof. \nThe longing for much \nmaligned chit chat \nthat is the crack in a door left slightly open \nfor a glimpse of loss\, grief\, loneliness. \n  \nThat’s where the brown pelican \ncomes in\, prehistoric\, living \ndinosaur chasing an osprey\, \nterrifying huge bucket of a mouth open \nto catch\, hopefully\, a dropped fish. \n  \nWe sit with it. \n  \nThe fear\, the maw\, the missing\, \nthe nature of things. \n  \nAnd then we get up \ngo to the dining hall or grocery \nand make a joke to the person \nahead of us in line. \n  \nAbout the weather. \n   \n—Elizabeth Domike \n* \n  \nClear blue sky this morning. It’s cold out. Snow on the ground. Wondering what to write for the Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue—what to say about the unsayable. Emily’s poem pops into my mind\, and says what I want to say better than I can: \n  \nThe Infinite a sudden Guest \nHas been assumed to be — \nBut how can that stupendous come \nWhich never went away? \n  \n—Emily Dickinson \n  \n—Johnny Stallings \n* \n  \nWe are experiencing snow with our original nature of AWE like we were children. \n  \nFurry Bear \n  \nIf I were a bear\,\n   And a big bear too\,\nI shouldn’t much care\n   If it froze or snew;\nI shouldn’t much mind\n   If it snowed or friz—\nI’d be all fur-lined\n   With a coat like his! \n  \nFor I’d have fur boots and a brown fur wrap\,\nAnd brown fur knickers and a big fur cap.\nI’d have a fur muffle-ruff to cover my jaws\,\nAnd brown fur mittens on my big brown paws.\nWith a big brown furry-down up to my head\,\nI’d sleep all the winter in a big fur bed. \n  \n—A.A. Milne \n  \n“When somebody has access  \nwho did not previously have access\,  \nthat’s powerful . . .” \n  \nI read this sign on the front of the Metro Newsletter about where to hike in Portland. The lead article was about who has access to the rivers and the hiking paths. Metro is creating more accessible paths for people with difficulty walking. How essential is our ability to wander in the woods\, to be in the wild\, by running water?   \n  \nI was reflecting on this quote on the way to the showing of Bushra’s film “A Midsummer Night’s Dream in Prison” at First Unitarian Church last Saturday. There was a wonder-full audience of receptive people who were astonished and moved by the beautiful experience of being able to see this story unfold. And I realized the profundity of access\, not only to people imprisoned\, but also to the friends\, mothers\, fathers\, daughters and sons who have not been able to visit their loved ones in prison. How powerful it is to have access to theater\, reading\, Shakespeare\, performing\, music\, visitors\, freedom\, transformation\, spectacle \, joy\, laughter\, hugging\, love—to feel so alive and engaged in life! \n  \nI received a new year poem from Kim and Perrin – “Be Alive” so timely. We have access to so much that can make us happy to be alive. Even when the power goes out\, branches are breaking\, the internet is disabled\, water only runs cold. When you wake in the dark under piles of quilts to stay warm\, as Perrin and Kim write in their poem\, “it’s possible\, even in dark days to wake in wonder.” \n  \nThis storm will pass.  \n  \nWith love and thanks to you all and our expanding community.   \n  \n—Katie Radditz \n 
URL:https://openroadpdx.com/event/meditation-mindfulness-1-15-24/
ATTACH;FMTTYPE=image/jpeg:https://openroadpdx.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/IMG_5980-scaled.jpeg
END:VEVENT
END:VCALENDAR