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<DIV>Thank you, Steve.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>Jann McGuire</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>
<DIV>In a message dated 6/10/2012 10:46:34 A.M. Pacific Daylight Time,
stevehar11201@gmail.com writes:</DIV>
<BLOCKQUOTE
style="BORDER-LEFT: blue 2px solid; PADDING-LEFT: 5px; MARGIN-LEFT: 5px"><FONT
style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent" color=#000000 size=2 face=Arial>Stories
about<BR>
<DIV><BR></DIV>
<DIV>----</DIV>
<DIV> Frank Hilliard's Death & Ed Feldmanis's story of a shared
moment or two with him in just 93 words [below] and
<DIV><BR></DIV>
<DIV>---
<DIV>Rick Laudermilk's vignette of the moment of silence at his father's
funeral -all silence- because his father was such a private
guy. </DIV>
<DIV><BR></DIV>
<DIV>Because none of the men that gathered for his funeral knew how to or
cared to share a story of what it was like to be with his dad and what they
loved about being with him enoght to come to his funeral and celebrate at the
completion of his life.</DIV>
<DIV><BR></DIV>
<DIV>Then I remembered</DIV>
<DIV><BR></DIV>
<DIV>---</DIV>
<DIV><BR></DIV>
<DIV>Joe Matthew's story about the time his father died and the funeral
director tried to cover up his father's face with lipstick and his body with a
brand new cut-away funeral gown-suit -all of it pretense and abstractions to
hide real death in the middle of real life...and</DIV>
<DIV><BR></DIV>
<DIV>---</DIV>
<DIV><BR></DIV>
<DIV>My Dad's funeral when I tried to retell 4 stories from my dad's life some
of the stories everyone knew, some only I knew... once as a boy in Tennessee
when his school blew away in a cyclone, once as a young young riding an Indian
motorcycle cross country, once as an established adult playing poker in Key
West with Harry Truman what happened when "the old man" lost a huge pot of
money.</DIV>
<DIV><BR></DIV>
<DIV>Once...the last time I saw him... wearing a yellow sweater, smoking a
pipe that I had given him, smelling that sweet sweet tobacco he loved,
watching him rocking in one of those pink metal rocking chairs at the nursing
home, seeing him smile in those last moments before he got up and left
for <SPAN
style="LINE-HEIGHT: 13px; FONT-FAMILY: arial,sans-serif; COLOR: rgb(34,34,34)">Alzheimer's</SPAN> land
and for good. </DIV>
<DIV><BR></DIV>
<DIV>---</DIV>
<DIV>Now, my peers & teachers pass on:</DIV>
<DIV><BR></DIV>
<DIV>Sandra True died the weekend I sat 44 hours in the zendo meditating while
she completed her life.</DIV>
<DIV><BR></DIV>
<DIV>I remembered the time at the Minneapolis House at 3am during a New
Religious Mode Odyssey when I was scrubbing my grave plot like everyone else
on the floor when two Minneapolis police men opened the door and asked:
Could we what we were doing --they had a complaint from neighbors about people
wearing white sheets". So interesting what happens in a scene and a couple of
words. </DIV>
<DIV><BR></DIV>
<DIV>---</DIV>
<DIV><BR></DIV>
<DIV> Robert Shropshire's at Academy 1973 teaching RS1 when he drew
a <SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: arial,sans-serif; COLOR: rgb(34,34,34)"> diagram on
the blackboard with a piece of fat rail road chalk in the shape of the letter
Omega and told a Mowanjum story of teaching among the
Aboriginals </SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: arial,sans-serif; COLOR: rgb(34,34,34)"></SPAN> </DIV>
<DIV><SPAN style="FONT-FAMILY: arial,sans-serif; COLOR: rgb(34,34,34)">He said
one day he was talking to some people about living your life as raw
possibility and having the courage to say so out loud. In my imagination he
was describing himself like that guy sitting on a log with a bunch of kids
listening at the other end of the log. </SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: arial,sans-serif; COLOR: rgb(34,34,34)"><BR></SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN style="FONT-FAMILY: arial,sans-serif; COLOR: rgb(34,34,34)">He
talked for a long while. Then there was a big Dreaming. As one man took a
stick and drew a picture in the dirt in the shape of an empty head [or the
Omega symbol]. </SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: arial,sans-serif; COLOR: rgb(34,34,34)"><BR></SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN style="FONT-FAMILY: arial,sans-serif; COLOR: rgb(34,34,34)">The man
then drew 2 circles for eyes, 1 circle for a mouth, 2 loops for ears and said:
"Before I was like this... an empty head. Now I have eyes to see, ears to hear
and words to say into existence what is real about my life and share it with
others. You have given me words to say what is so."</SPAN></DIV>
<DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=#222222 face="arial, sans-serif"><BR></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=#222222 face="arial, sans-serif">Shropshire said that in
Mowanjum when a different moment of real got said said into existence clarity
broke into candid conversation - again - when the same guy awoke from a
walking-around-asleep dream and said: " Robert you are not a
"special-magic" black man: you're not a black man like me at all, you're
just a white man... just like them!'</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=#222222 face="arial, sans-serif"><BR></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=#222222 face="arial, sans-serif">Shropshire used to
distinguish walking around in the ordinary places with ordinary people being
fully awake, and how sleepy he felt traveling around some places in the
United States,how much energy it took not to catching the sleeping
sickness, how in some places you had to struggle to stay present to
conversations for possibility. </FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=#222222 face="arial, sans-serif"><BR></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=#222222 face="arial, sans-serif">The last Shropshire story
I recall was when he went to work at MacDonalds after a LENS seminar,
tried to see what it takes to wake-up and stay awake in 1% corporate
America. </FONT></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: arial,sans-serif; COLOR: rgb(34,34,34)"><BR></SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN style="FONT-FAMILY: arial,sans-serif; COLOR: rgb(34,34,34)">That's
how I rememberShropshire as a character filled-full, vivid with a sense
of wonder, focused whole-hearted, present then, present now in my meditative
council stories. </SPAN></DIV></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=#222222 face="arial, sans-serif"><BR></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=#222222 face="arial, sans-serif">---</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=#222222 face="arial, sans-serif">Living still and making
online stories</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=#222222 face="arial, sans-serif"><BR></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=#222222 face="arial, sans-serif">Kaye Hayes listening online
and live again this year to Kaye Hayes 1972 Freedom Lecture thanks to
Walt Epply's New ICA-USA Archives digital recording. What got me was not the
20th C existential/mythological lingo but the still lively storytelling -the
classic ones like "Welcome to Hard Times, why don' you stick around and
build". </FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=#222222 face="arial, sans-serif"><BR></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=#222222 face="arial, sans-serif">What a storyteller she was
at the pedagogue lecturn; when I listen to her at Mike May's video clips...
she mostly only tells stories from her long-ago community and about her work
as a mentor among reservation indian kids who diserve a future view, now, of
freedom </FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=#222222 face="arial, sans-serif"><BR></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=#222222 face="arial, sans-serif">---</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=#222222 face="arial, sans-serif"><BR></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=#222222 face="arial, sans-serif">Gordon Harper makes
videoclips of Occupy and writes online how Joe Mathews gave a talk
in Maliwada one time on Integrity and gave it to Werner Erhard who now teaches
about Integrity at Harvard B-school and Oxford. </FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=#222222 face="arial, sans-serif"><BR></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=#222222 face="arial, sans-serif">--- </FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=#222222 face="arial, sans-serif"><BR></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN>A woman named Sandy Something the time my best Costa Rica friend Jo
Stuart invited me to lunch in San Jose last year, with a friend of her's named
Sandy Something-or-another whom I didn't know. </SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN><BR></SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN>As we sat down at the restaurant an island of English speakers in a
sea of native Spanish speakers I introduced myself and asked this Sandy
Something-or-another where she was from. She said Chicago. I said my younger
daughter lives there and I used to know some people that lived on the West
Side. She said yup, me too they lived at 3444 Congress Parkway,
right? </SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN><BR></SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN>With in seconds of sitting down we were chanting "This is the drum
of the city, this is the drum of the city, it says to us that we can live...".
The entire restaurant of Costa Ricans grew quiet as they listened to
these English speaking gringos beating respectfully on the table,
chanting.</SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN><BR></SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN> The conversation completely changed as we started
sharing-long ago Sandy Powell and Steve Harrington
stories. </SPAN><SPAN>Our mutual friend Jo, who is a writer, became more
and more astonished as deep root and memorable character stories tumbled out.
Later she told me she wished she had brought her journal notebook so she could
write down names and places and themes and write them out. </SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN><BR></SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN>At our table it seemed as if an entire group of interior council
characters pulled chairs up around our table listening: many Franks, Ricks,
Joes, Roberts, Kayes, Sandras, Steves listening like an invisible
college woken-up again to travel east sharing human journey
stories. </SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN><BR></SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN>---</SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN><BR></SPAN></DIV>
<DIV>Thank-you Ed Feldmanis -thank-you <SPAN> for your Frank
Hilliard story of a man I never met and found in 93 sweet short
words. </SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN><BR></SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN>Yes, I do now remember that Greek restaurant named Diana's downtown
Chicago near Halstead. It was the old place behind the small greek grocery
store right? </SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN><BR></SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN>It's theplace where Anthony Quinn learned to dance for Zorba the
Green. It is the place where you learn to cheer "Opa" as the flaming saganiki
cheese scorches the blue and white tinsil decorations,
right? </SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN><BR></SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN>It is the place I met the mother of my children one Sunday
afternoon dinner during Academy 73. It was the origin point the action-before
the action that created my family, created lives of my two daughters Sarah and
Margot, foreshadowed my current grandfather mind for a new granddaughter named
Indira.</SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><BR></DIV>
<DIV>===</DIV>
<DIV><SPAN><BR></SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN>More short-short stories please, vignettes really of the
distinctive characters who travel East. </SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN><BR></SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN>More short-short stories of character to pay forward to some other
generation who might also wish to travel East. </SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN><BR></SPAN></DIV>
<DIV>
<DIV>-- <BR>Steve Harrington<BR></DIV>
<DIV><BR></DIV>
<DIV>Ed's 93 Word Story of a man I didn't know named Frank.</DIV>
<DIV><BR></DIV>
<DIV>I was in Frank's Ecclesiola at Centrum. One night we all went to
Greek town to a special restaurant called Diana's. We persuaded the honor
to dance and he finished with resounding Opa's as he flung his glass
crashing against the wall. We were mesmerized. Our members were
raving about the experience.<BR><BR>On the next day Frank added his
insight: Always appreciate a man's special talent but never fool
yourself thinking that a talent represents a grounded life. Our
restaurant owner could be someone living authentically or
maybe not. Thanks to Frank for the sharing and his sacrifice. A
beautiful
life.</DIV></DIV></DIV></DIV><BR><BR>_______________________________________________<BR>Dialogue
mailing
list<BR>Dialogue@lists.wedgeblade.net<BR>http://lists.wedgeblade.net/listinfo.cgi/dialogue-wedgeblade.net<BR></FONT></BLOCKQUOTE></DIV></FONT></BODY></HTML>