John William Tuohy lives in Washington DC




John William Tuohy is a writer who lives in Washington DC. He holds an MFA in writing from Lindenwood University.
He is the author of No Time to Say Goodbye: Memoirs of a Life in Foster Care and Short Stories from a Small Town. He is also the author of numerous non-fiction on the history of organized crime including the ground break biography of bootlegger Roger Tuohy "When Capone's Mob Murdered Touhy" and "Guns and Glamour: A History of Organized Crime in Chicago."
His non-fiction crime short stories have appeared in The New Criminologist, American Mafia and other publications. John won the City of Chicago's Celtic Playfest for his work The Hannigan's of Beverly, and his short story fiction work, Karma Finds Franny Glass, appeared in AdmitTwo Magazine in October of 2008.
His play, Cyberdate.Com, was chosen for a public performance at the Actors Chapel in Manhattan in February of 2007 as part of the groups Reading Series for New York project. In June of 2008, the play won the Virginia Theater of The First Amendment Award for best new play.
Contact John:

Prayer of Saint Francis

"Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
Where there is sadness, joy.

O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console,
To be understood as to understand,
To be loved as to love;
For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
It is in dying to self that we are born to eternal 

MISH MOSH.................

Mish Mash: noun \ˈmish-ˌmash, -ˌmäsh\ A : hodgepodge, jumble The painting was just a mishmash of colors and abstract shapes as far as we could tell. Origin Middle English & Yiddish; Middle English mysse masche, perhaps reduplication of mash mash; Yiddish mish-mash, perhaps reduplication of mishn to mix. First Known Use: 15th century


To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.
Visit our Shakespeare Blog at the address below


300 quotes from Emerson

To view more Emerson quotes or read a life background on Emerson please visit the books blog spot. We update the blog bi-monthly emersonsaidit.blogspot.com

The Quotable Kahlil Gibran with Artwork from Kahlil Gibran
Paperback 52 pages

Kahlil Gibran, an artist, poet, and writer was born on January 6, 1883 n the north of modern-day Lebanon and in what was then part of Ottoman Empire. He had no formal schooling in Lebanon. In 1895, the family immigrated to the United States when Kahlil was a young man and settled in South Boston. Gibran enrolled in an art school and was soon a member of the avant-garde community and became especially close to Boston artist, photographer, and publisher Fred Holland Day who encouraged and supported Gibran’s creative projects. An accomplished artist in drawing and watercolor, Kahlil attended art school in Paris from 1908 to 1910, pursuing a symbolist and romantic style. He held his first art exhibition of his drawings in 1904 in Boston, at Day's studio. It was at this exhibition, that Gibran met Mary Elizabeth Haskell, who ten years his senior. The two formed an important friendship and love affair that lasted the rest of Gibran’s short life. Haskell influenced every aspect of Gibran’s personal life and career. She became his editor when he began to write and ushered his first book into publication in 1918, The Madman, a slim volume of aphorisms and parables written in biblical cadence somewhere between poetry and prose. Gibran died in New York City on April 10, 1931, at the age of 48 from cirrhosis of the liver and tuberculosis.


AND HERE'S SOME ANIMALS FOR YOU................... 

The Observation and Appreciation of Architecture

Joe Henderson & Freddie Hubbard at Slug’s in Greenwich Village, Oct 1, 1967.




"I am in love with my wife," he said--a superfluous remark, as I had not
questioned his attachment to the woman he had married. We walked for ten
minutes and then he said it again. I turned to look at him. He began to
talk and told me the tale I am now about to set down.

The thing he had on his mind happened during what must have been the
most eventful week of his life. He was to be married on Friday
afternoon. On Friday of the week before he got a telegram announcing his
appointment to a government position. Something else happened that made
him very proud and glad. In secret he was in the habit of writing verses
and during the year before several of them had been printed in poetry
magazines. One of the societies that give prizes for what they think the
best poems published during the year put his name at the head of their
list. The story of his triumph was printed in the newspapers of his home
city, and one of them also printed his picture.

As might have been expected, he was excited and in a rather highly
strung nervous state all during that week. Almost every evening he went
to call on his fiancée, the daughter of a judge. When he got there the
house was filled with people and many letters, telegrams and packages
were being received. He stood a little to one side and men and women
kept coming to speak with him. They congratulated him upon his success
in getting the government position and on his achievement as a poet.
Everyone seemed to be praising him, and when he went home to bed he
could not sleep. On Wednesday evening he went to the theatre and it
seemed to him that people all over the house recognized him. Everyone
nodded and smiled. After the first act five or six men and two women
left their seats to gather about him. A little group was formed.
Strangers sitting along the same row of seats stretched their necks and
looked. He had never received so much attention before, and now a fever
of expectancy took possession of him.

As he explained when he told me of his experience, it was for him an
altogether abnormal time. He felt like one floating in air. When he got
into bed after seeing so many people and hearing so many words of praise
his head whirled round and round. When he closed his eyes a crowd of
people invaded his room. It seemed as though the minds of all the people
of his city were centered on himself. The most absurd fancies took
possession of him. He imagined himself riding in a carriage through the
streets of a city. Windows were thrown open and people ran out at the
doors of houses. "There he is. That's him," they shouted, and at the
words a glad cry arose. The carriage drove into a street blocked with
people. A hundred thousand pairs of eyes looked up at him. "There you
are! What a fellow you have managed to make of yourself!" the eyes
seemed to be saying.

My friend could not explain whether the excitement of the people was due
to the fact that he had written a new poem or whether, in his new
government position, he had performed some notable act. The apartment
where he lived at that time was on a street perched along the top of a
cliff far out at the edge of the city and from his bedroom window he
could look down over trees and factory roofs to a river. As he could not
sleep and as the fancies that kept crowding in upon him only made him
more excited, he got out of bed and tried to think.

As would be natural under such circumstances, he tried to control his
thoughts, but when he sat by the window and was wide awake a most
unexpected and humiliating thing happened. The night was clear and fine.
There was a moon. He wanted to dream of the woman who was to be his
wife, think out lines for noble poems or make plans that would affect
his career. Much to his surprise his mind refused to do anything of the

At a corner of the street where he lived there was a small cigar store
and newspaper stand run by a fat man of forty and his wife, a small
active woman with bright grey eyes. In the morning he stopped there to
buy a paper before going down to the city. Sometimes he saw only the fat
man, but often the man had disappeared and the woman waited on him. She
was, as he assured me at least twenty times in telling me his tale, a
very ordinary person with nothing special or notable about her, but for
some reason he could not explain being in her presence stirred him
profoundly. During that week in the midst of his distraction she was the
only person he knew who stood out clear and distinct in his mind. When
he wanted so much to think noble thoughts, he could think only of her.
Before he knew what was happening his imagination had taken hold of the
notion of having a love affair with the woman.

"I could not understand myself," he declared, in telling me the story.
"At night, when the city was quiet and when I should have been asleep, I
thought about her all the time. After two or three days of that sort of
thing the consciousness of her got into my daytime thoughts. I was
terribly muddled. When I went to see the woman who is now my wife I
found that my love for her was in no way affected by my vagrant
thoughts. There was but one woman in the world I wanted to live with me
and to be my comrade in undertaking to improve my own character and my
position in the world, but for the moment, you see, I wanted this other
woman to be in my arms. She had worked her way into my being. On all
sides people were saying I was a big man who would do big things, and
there I was. That evening when I went to the theatre I walked home
because I knew I would be unable to sleep, and to satisfy the annoying
impulse in myself I went and stood on the sidewalk before the tobacco
shop. It was a two story building, and I knew the woman lived upstairs
with her husband. For a long time I stood in the darkness with my body
pressed against the wall of the building and then I thought of the two
of them up there, no doubt in bed together. That made me furious.

"Then I grew more furious at myself. I went home and got into bed shaken
with anger. There are certain books of verse and some prose writings
that have always moved me deeply, and so I put several books on a table
by my bed.

"The voices in the books were like the voices of the dead. I did not
hear them. The words printed on the lines would not penetrate into my
consciousness. I tried to think of the woman I loved, but her figure had
also become something far away, something with which I for the moment
seemed to have nothing to do. I rolled and tumbled about in the bed. It
was a miserable experience.

"On Thursday morning I went into the store. There stood the woman alone.
I think she knew how I felt. Perhaps she had been thinking of me as I
had been thinking of her. A doubtful hesitating smile played about the
corners of her mouth. She had on a dress made of cheap cloth, and there
was a tear on the shoulder. She must have been ten years older than
myself. When I tried to put my pennies on the glass counter behind which
she stood my hand trembled so that the pennies made a sharp rattling
noise. When I spoke the voice that came out of my throat did not sound
like anything that had ever belonged to me. It barely arose above a
thick whisper. 'I want you,' I said. 'I want you very much. Can't you
run away from your husband? Come to me at my apartment at seven

"The woman did come to my apartment at seven. That morning she did not
say anything at all. For a minute perhaps we stood looking at each
other. I had forgotten everything in the world but just her. Then she
nodded her head and I went away. Now that I think of it I cannot
remember a word I ever heard her say. She came to my apartment at seven
and it was dark. You must understand this was in the month of October. I
had not lighted a light and I had sent my servant away.

"During that day I was no good at all. Several men came to see me at my
office, but I got all muddled up in trying to talk with them. They
attributed my rattle-headedness to my approaching marriage and went away

"It was on that morning, just the day before my marriage, that I got a
long and very beautiful letter from my fiancée. During the night before
she also had been unable to sleep and had got out of bed to write the
letter. Everything she said in it was very sharp and real, but she
herself, as a living thing, seemed to have receded into the distance. It
seemed to me that she was like a bird, flying far away in distant skies,
and I was like a perplexed bare-footed boy standing in the dusty road
before a farm house and looking at her receding figure. I wonder if you
will understand what I mean?

"In regard to the letter. In it she, the awakening woman, poured out her
heart. She of course knew nothing of life, but she was a woman. She lay,
I suppose, in her bed feeling nervous and wrought up as I had been
doing. She realized that a great change was about to take place in her
life and was glad and afraid too. There she lay thinking of it all. Then
she got out of bed and began talking to me on the bit of paper. She told
me how afraid she was and how glad too. Like most young women she had
heard things whispered. In the letter she was very sweet and fine. 'For
a long time, after we are married, we will forget we are a man and
woman,' she wrote. 'We will be human beings. You must remember that I am
ignorant and often I will be very stupid. You must love me and be very
patient and kind. When I know more, when after a long time you have
taught me the way of life, I will try to repay you. I will love you
tenderly and passionately. The possibility of that is in me, or I would
not want to marry at all. I am afraid but I am also happy. O, I am so
glad our marriage time is near at hand.'

"Now you see clearly enough into what a mess I had got. In my office,
after I read my fiancée's letter, I became at once very resolute and
strong. I remember that I got out of my chair and walked about, proud of
the fact that I was to be the husband of so noble a woman. Right away I
felt concerning her as I had been feeling, about myself before I found
out what a weak thing I was. To be sure I took a strong resolution that
I would not be weak. At nine that evening I had planned to run in to see
my fiancée. 'I'm all right now,' I said to myself. 'The beauty of her
character has saved me from myself. I will go home now and send the
other woman away.' In the morning I had telephoned to my servant and
told him that I did not want him to be at the apartment that evening and
I now picked up the telephone to tell him to stay at home.

"Then a thought came to me. 'I will not want him there in any event,' I
told myself. 'What will he think when he sees a woman coming to my place
on the evening before the day I am to be married?' I put the telephone
down and prepared to go home. 'If I want my servant out of the apartment
it is because I do not want him to hear me talk with the woman. I cannot
be rude to her. I will have to make some kind of an explanation,' I said
to myself.

"The woman came at seven o'clock, and, as you may have guessed, I let
her in and forgot the resolution I had made. It is likely I never had
any intention of doing anything else. There was a bell on my door, but
she did not ring, but knocked very softly. It seems to me that
everything she did that evening was soft and quiet but very determined
and quick. Do I make myself clear? When she came I was standing just
within the door, where I had been standing and waiting for a half hour.
My hands were trembling as they had trembled in the morning when her
eyes looked at me and when I tried to put the pennies on the counter in
the store. When I opened the door she stepped quickly in and I took her
into my arms. We stood together in the darkness. My hands no longer

trembled. I felt very happy and strong.

"Although I have tried to make everything clear I have not told you what
the woman I married is like. I have emphasized, you see, the other
woman. I make the blind statement that I love my wife, and to a man of
your shrewdness that means nothing at all. To tell the truth, had I not
started to speak of this matter I would feel more comfortable. It is
inevitable that I give you the impression that I am in love with the
tobacconist's wife. That's not true. To be sure I was very conscious of
her all during the week before my marriage, but after she had come to me
at my apartment she went entirely out of my mind.

"Am I telling the truth? I am trying very hard to tell what happened to
me. I am saying that I have not since that evening thought of the woman
who came to my apartment. Now, to tell the facts of the case, that is
not true. On that evening I went to my fiancace at nine, as she had asked
me to do in her letter. In a kind of way I cannot explain the other
woman went with me. This is what I mean--you see I had been thinking
that if anything happened between me and the tobacconist's wife I would
not be able to go through with my marriage. 'It is one thing or the
other with me,' I had said to myself.

"As a matter of fact I went to see my beloved on that evening filled
with a new faith in the outcome of our life together. I am afraid I
muddle this matter in trying to tell it. A moment ago I said the other
woman, the tobacconist's wife, went with me. I do not mean she went in
fact. What I am trying to say is that something of her faith in her own
desires and her courage in seeing things through went with me. Is that
clear to you? When I got to my fiancée's house there was a crowd of
people standing about. Some were relatives from distant places I had not
seen before. She looked up quickly when I came into the room. My face
must have been radiant. I never saw her so moved. She thought her letter
had affected me deeply, and of course it had. Up she jumped and ran to
meet me. She was like a glad child. Right before the people who turned
and looked inquiringly at us, she said the thing that was in her mind.
'O, I am so happy,' she cried. 'You have understood. We will be two
human beings. We will not have to be husband and wife.'

"As you may suppose, everyone laughed, but I did not laugh. The tears
came into my eyes. I was so happy I wanted to shout. Perhaps you
understand what I mean. In the office that day when I read the letter my
fiancée had written I had said to myself, 'I will take care of the dear
little woman.' There was something smug, you see, about that. In her
house when she cried out in that way, and when everyone laughed, what I
said to myself was something like this: 'We will take care of
ourselves.' I whispered something of the sort into her ears. To tell you
the truth I had come down off my perch. The spirit of the other woman
did that to me. Before all the people gathered about I held my fiancée
close and we kissed. They thought it very sweet of us to be so affected
at the sight of each other. What they would have thought had they known
the truth about me God only knows!

"Twice now I have said that after that evening I never thought of the
other woman at all. That is partially true but sometimes in the evening
when I am walking alone in the street or in the park as we are walking
now, and when evening comes softly and quickly as it has come to-night,
the feeling of her comes sharply into my body and mind. After that one
meeting I never saw her again. On the next day I was married and I have
never gone back into her street. Often however as I am walking along as
I am doing now, a quick sharp earthy feeling takes possession of me. It
is as though I were a seed in the ground and the warm rains of the
spring had come. It is as though I were not a man but a tree.

"And now you see I am married and everything is all right. My marriage
is to me a very beautiful fact. If you were to say that my marriage is
not a happy one I could call you a liar and be speaking the absolute
truth. I have tried to tell you about this other woman. There is a kind
of relief in speaking of her. I have never done it before. I wonder why
I was so silly as to be afraid that I would give you the impression I am
not in love with my wife. If I did not instinctively trust your
understanding I would not have spoken. As the matter stands I have a
little stirred myself up. To-night I shall think of the other woman.
That sometimes occurs. It will happen after I have gone to bed. My wife
sleeps in the next room to mine and the door is always left open. There
will be a moon to-night, and when there is a moon long streaks of light
fall on her bed. I shall awake at midnight to-night. She will be lying
asleep with one arm thrown over her head.

"What is that I am talking about? A man does not speak of his wife lying
in bed. What I am trying to say is that, because of this talk, I shall
think of the other woman to-night. My thoughts will not take the form
they did the week before I was married. I will wonder what has become of
the woman. For a moment I will again feel myself holding her close. I
will think that for an hour I was closer to her than I have ever been to
anyone else. Then I will think of the time when I will be as close as
that to my wife. She is still, you see, an awakening woman. For a moment
I will close my eyes and the quick, shrewd, determined eyes of that
other woman will look into mine. My head will swim and then I will
quickly open my eyes and see again the dear woman with whom I have
undertaken to live out my life. Then I will sleep and when I awake in
the morning it will be as it was that evening when I walked out of my
dark apartment after having had the most notable experience of my life.
What I mean to say, you understand, is that, for me, when I awake, the
other woman will be utterly gone."


 Corricella, Procida Island, Italy
Dachstein, Austria
 Dinan, Brittany, France
Dorset England

 Edinburgh, Scotland
 Edinburgh, Scotland
Edinburgh, Scotland


Beat poetry evolved during the 1940s in both New York City and on the west coast, although San Francisco became the heart of the movement in the early 1950s. The end of World War II left poets like Allen Ginsberg, Gary Snyder, Lawrence Ferlinghetti and Gregory Corso questioning mainstream politics and culture. A Brief Guide to the Beat Poets | Academy of American Poets https://www.poets.org/poetsorg

Wulf Zendik

Wulf Zendik (born Lawrence E. Wulfing, in El Paso, Texas, October 7, 1920 – June 12, 1999) was an American writer, environmentalist, and bohemian. He was the author of the novel A Quest Among The Bewildered, and has been described as an "undiscovered Beat."

Larry Wulfing, a.k.a. Wulf, founded the community, Zendik (also known as Zendik Arts Farm), located in Florida, Southern California, Texas, North Carolina, and West Virginia at various times, with his wife/partner Carol Merson, a.k.a. Arol Wulf. After Zendik's death, Zendik Farm continued Zendik's philosophy by promoting the arts and an environmentally sound lifestyle.

In 2006, the community had a show, Zendik News, on public-access television Channel 75 in Baltimore, MD. Zendik Farm members were known for their sales of T-shirts and bumper stickers saying "Stop Bitching, Start a Revolution." The community has since disbanded, with the property being sold.
Don’t Go!
Ho Chang rests his rifle across a branch and focuses its sights on the American infantryman. Ho Chang is fourteen years old. He is a guerrilla fighter, a skilled assassin, a sniper. Concealed high in a tree — a tree that a short time ago he climbed in play — he reaches and methodically plucks a leaf from his line of fire. Killing is his single remaining pleasure.…

~ Don’t Go ~
Ho Chang is a fanatic. He became a fanatic six months earlier while watching his mother, father, and beloved sister run screaming from the pyre of curling flame and smoke that had been their home. He watched his loved ones, each a wild torch, stumbling crazily through the village and finally sprawling laying in the dust, eyeless hairless black smoking hulks that twitched and emitted sounds not human. In the terrible racking sobbing agony of his grief the boy knelt beside the charred remains of his family and pleaded that he too might die… Their hut had been struck by an American bomb….

~ Don’t Go ~
The American infantryman, Private Eugene Roberts, is in his first day of combat. Always a peaceful boy and raised in the quiet suburbs of Los Angeles, Private Roberts had never been involved in physical conflict until today. Today he has killed three people. A few hours earlier his squad was fired on from a dense thicket by a number of the enemy. The boy beside him suddenly stopped and turned, a puzzled expression on his face and a small red oozing hole in his forehead….
~ Don’t Go ~
Private Roberts, in a blurred rage of revenge, followed his combat training. Running, zigzagging, firing from the hip, he charged the thicket with his squad. A flurry of shouts, of confusion and violent hand-to-hand combat resulted in Private Roberts shooting two uniformed boys and pulling his bayonet from deep in the breast of a third, a slim uniformed enemy — a girl enemy, a girl younger than he. Their eyes had locked… His in young blue-irised horror… hers in brown graceful long-lashed acceptance that glazed to death while he watched and whimpered…..
~ Don’t Go ~
Alone now, lost from his squad, wandering aimlessly, he slogs through the lonely landscape. Dazed, oblivious, mumbling to himself, his mind has returned home… To Los Angeles, to the suburban high school he last year graduated from, to sixteen-year-old Donna who still attends the school — Donna who promised to wait, who writes long chatty lonesome letters on wide-ruled notebook paper. School days together, surfing together, high together, their clear eyes close staring inquisitive innocent learning one another, touching one another, loving one another in gentle tentative passion…..

~ Don’t Go ~
There’s others who wait: his younger brother who brags of a big brother hero in uniform. His father, veteran of an earlier war, proud of his fighting son. His mother, who successfully impersonalizes the war news and insures Eugene’s safety by prayer… perhaps a medal, perhaps a purple heart, a slight, romantic wound. His car waits parked in their suburban yard, and his surfboard — the board he decorated and glassed himself––waits stored in the garage rafters. Sometimes Mrs. Roberts goes to the garage and stands a moment looking up at the board…..
~ Don’t Go ~
Private Roberts’ head looms large, circle-framed in Ho Chang’s telescopic sights. The boy feels grim satisfaction at the imminent destruction of another American. He pauses… Deciding against a quick death, he lowers his sights on the enemy figure and slowly, skillfully squeezes the trigger… The rifle jumps, kicks solidly against his shoulder and a single violent crack of sound shatters the insect-buzzing bird-calling tropical day… The immediate absolute silence that follows hangs still and ominous on the warm heavy air….

~ Don’t Go ~
The hate-altered hollownose bullet makes a small smoldering hole in Private Roberts’ tunic, enters his side below the ribs and above the hip bone. Expanding rapidly it plows a deep hole through the abdomen. Private Roberts throws up his hands, and as a wind-up toy soldier whose spring has burst, staggers crazily wildly awkwardly. He does not fall. Stunned by the bullet’s slamming impact he fails to understand what has happened… But immediately the numbness begins to change to pain, a trail of dull pain across his belly. He looks down and in confused stupor unbelts his tunic….
~ Don’t Go ~
He stands there swaying in shock and bewildered comprehension while with fear fumbling fingers he tries to unbutton the shirt. Sweat pours over his face and his lips move trembling. The real pain hits him then. Its white hot sear is terrible. He rips frantically at the red seeping cloth — buttons fly — the shirt opens… He sees the wound from which his entrails now bulge, a wound that now sluggishly disgorges long grotesque ropes of mangled gut, of yellow dismembered quivering glands, of blue ruptured spurting arteries, of red severed nerve jumping muscles — a hanging mutilated mass of brown leaking intestine that dangles and splashes to the ground…..
~ Don’t Go ~
Private Roberts begins shaking his head in unbelieving protest. He mumbles, “No… No… Oh, God… No…” Swaying, crying, still moving his head in denial he clumsily grasps the mangled mess of maimed entrails and begins to stuff them back into himself. For a few seconds he plays the hopeless game. His legs begin to shake violently, to jump uncontrollably. They buckle….
~ Don’t Go ~
Still striving to hold his intestines within himself, Private Roberts slowly sinks to his knees. He kneels there, and his blood bleeds a clear crimson stain. He understands then the futility — dimly understands his death, as head bowed, he watches his weakened hands fall away and the bulging intestines emerge, go floating out like bright hued tentacles reaching across the void….
~ Don’t Go ~
Private Roberts’ face contorts with the last flashing emotions of his quick young life. No glory, no thoughts of country, no audience, no movie-soldier brave clenched-cigarette wisecracking death, no patriotic slogans in his fading mind. He sobs his last now, nods in final acceptance and as thousands and thousands of dying boy soldiers before him, he piteously asks for that woman who bore him and who eased each childhood pain — quietly softly he whispers, “Mom… Mother… I…” And upon the sunlit surface of a far distant native land only a red smear remains… Nineteen years of clean young promise gone. Shot to hell….

~ Don’t Go ~
Acid in the Wind
Won’t count the things I’ve tasted
How far I’ve been wasted
seeking my own Self
Acid blowing flowing in the wind—
cross the wide mountain  sky
What will a man do
to clear the mind and eye
What alchemy will he try
How much will he stake
What will he take
to See what’s True
Acid blowing flowing in the wind—
thru a tall knowing pine
Ancient and divine, this sacred tree of eternal design
I kneel to its wind-swept glory
Yes, far from my weary city story—
I seek the weave of Cozmic interlace to slow my mad mortal pace
And mountain summer rain, thru green willing branches,
weeps gentle tears upon my face
And the wind whispers “Thou art rush and strain…
we, the wind and rain and great knowing tree, are free.”
And there in humble prayer before an all- knowing shrine,
this tall knowing pine, I sing, in holy asking,
“Ancient one of the wind and rain, ease my pain…
I seek to end this mad pace of my mortal chase…
You were once young, as I—teach me now,
teach me how to live, and die, ever free, ever high.”
And the wind thru green giving branches whispers,
“Tell this glory into thy weary city story:::
To rush is sin… forsake the race… thou canst win…
Life itself is the only grace.”
Acid blowing flowing cross the wide mountain sky
acid…… acid

blowing flowing in the wind

Joe Colombo, boss of the Profaci Family, (later the Colombo Family) pointing to a photo of Columbus Circle where he would be shot three days later by the Gallo Gang at almost exactly the spot he was pointing at.

Sculpture this and Sculpture that

Hercules and the Nemean Lion. Marco Antonio Prestinari. Italian 1570-1621. Terracotta.




Slapstick 1: a device made of two flat pieces of wood fastened at one end so as to make a loud noise when used by an actor to strike a person 2: comedy stressing farce and horseplay; also : activity resembling slapstick. The idea that knocking people about made for good comedy dates as far back as the Greco-Roman theater, where clowns rambunctiously "attacked" one another onstage. The object from which the word slapstick derives, however, was invented in Italy in the 16th century. Renaissance comedy typically featured stock characters placed in ridiculous situations, and one such ubiquitous character was Harlequin, whose brilliant costuming made him easily recognizable. Harlequin was given to wielding a paddle which was designed to make a terrible noise when he hit someone, usually to the delight of the audience. This paddle was eventually known in English as a slapstick, and it became a symbol of that type of highly physical comedy. The word slapstick then came to refer to the comedy itself.


 At Last The Secret Is Out

By WH Auden

It last the secret is out,
as it always must come in the end,
the delicius story is ripe to tell
to tell to the intimate friend;
over the tea-cups and into the square
the tongues has its desire;
still waters run deep, my dear,
there's never smoke without fire.

Behind the corpse in the reservoir,
behind the ghost on the links,
behind the lady who dances
and the man who madly drinks,
under the look of fatigue
the attack of migraine and the sigh
there is always another story,
there is more than meets the eye.

For the clear voice suddently singing,
high up in the convent wall,
the scent of the elder bushes,
the sporting prints in the hall,
the croquet matches in summer,
the handshake, the cough, the kiss,
there is always a wicked secret,
a private reason for this.

Psalm 23

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.


Fifth Avenue, New York George Luks, 1920


John Vachon

What’ll We Do Tonight 1941, Chicago. John Vachon

WHY THE WORLD NEEDS EDITORS.....................


THE ART OF WAR...............................

Photographs I’ve taken
Hula hoop girl in Grant Park

Hula hooping has been a type of exercise and play from as early as the 5th century in ancient Greece.  Before it was known and recognized as the common colorful plastic toy (sometimes with water inside the actual hoop), it used to be made of dried up willow, rattan, grapevines, or stiff grasses. Even though the hoop has existed for thousands of years, it is often misunderstood as being invented in the 1950s.

There was a craze of using wooden and metal hoops in 14th century England. He reports that doctors treated patients suffering from pain and dislocated backs due to hooping - and heart failure was even attributed to it.  The name 'hula' came from the Hawaiian dance in the 18th century, due to the similar hip movements.

 The hoop gained international popularity in the late 1950s when a plastic version was successfully marketed by California's Wham-O toy company. In 1957, Richard Knerr and Arthur "Spud" Melin, starting with the idea of Australian bamboo "exercise hoops", manufactured 42 in hoops with Marlex plastic.

 With give-aways and national marketing and retailing, a fad was started in July, 1958; twenty-five million plastic hoops were sold in less than four months, and in two years sales reached more than 100 million units.

Carlon Products Corporation was one of the first manufacturers of the hula hoop. During the 1950s, when the hula hoop craze swept the country, Carlon was producing more than 50,000 hula hoops per day. The hoop was inducted into the National Toy Hall of Fame at The Strong in Rochester, New York, in 1999.


I offer you peace. I offer you love. I offer you friendship. I see your beauty. I hear your need. I feel your feelings. Mahatma Gandhi


The practice of Mindfulness involves being aware moment-to-moment, of one’s subjective conscious experience from a first-person perspective. When practicing mindfulness, one becomes aware of one’s "stream of consciousness".

The skill of mindfulness can be gradually developed using meditational practices that are described in detail in the Buddhist tradition. The Five-Aggregate Model, an ancient model of the mind and body, is a helpful theoretical resource that could guide mindfulness interventions.

The term "mindfulness" is derived from the Pali-termsati which is an essential element of Buddhist practice, including vipassana, satipaṭṭhāna and anapanasati. It has been popularized in the West by Jon Kabat-Zinnwith his mindfulness-based stress reduction (MBSR) program.

Mindfulness is also an attribute of consciousness long believed to promote well-being. Large population-based research studies have indicated that the construct of mindfulness is strongly correlated with well-being and perceived health.

Studies have also shown that rumination and worry contribute to mental illnesses such as depression and anxiety, and that mindfulness-based interventions are effective in the reduction of both rumination and worry.

Clinical psychology and psychiatry since the 1970s have developed a number of therapeutic applications based on mindfulness for helping people who are experiencing a variety of psychological conditions.

Mindfulness practice is being employed in psychology to alleviate a variety of mental and physical conditions, such as bringing about reductions in depression symptoms, reducing stress, anxiety, and in the treatment of drug addiction. It has gained worldwide popularity as a distinctive method to handle emotions.

Clinical studies have documented the physical and mental health benefits of mindfulness in general, and MBSR in particular.

Programs based on MBSR and similar models have been widely adapted in schools, prisons, hospitals, veterans centers, and other environments.

Mindfulness meditation

Mindfulness meditation is practiced sitting with eyes closed, cross-legged on a cushion, or on a chair, with the back straight.

Attention is put on the movement of the abdomen when breathing in and out,[23] or on the awareness of the breath as it goes in and out the nostrils. If one becomes distracted from the breath, one passively notices one's mind has wandered, but in an accepting, non-judgmental way and one returns to focusing on breathing.

A famous exercise, introduced by Kabat-Zinn in his MBSR-program, is the mindful tasting of a raisin, in which a raisin is being tasted and eaten mindfully.

Meditators start with short periods of 10 minutes or so of meditation practice per day. As one practices regularly, it becomes easier to keep the attention focused on breathing. Eventually awareness of the breath can be extended into awareness of thoughts, feelings and actions.
Research on the neural perspective of how mindfulness meditation works suggests that it exerts its effects in components of attention regulation, body awareness and emotional regulation.

When considering aspects such as sense of responsibility, authenticity, compassion, self-acceptance and character, studies have shown that mindfulness meditation contributes to a more coherent and healthy sense of self and identity.

Neuroimaging techniques suggest that mindfulness practices such as mindfulness meditation are associated with “changes in the anterior cingulate cortex, insula, temporo-parietal junction, fronto-limbic network and default mode network structures."
It has been suggested that the default mode network of the brain can be used as a potential biomarker for monitoring the therapeutic benefits of meditation

Easwaran's program for spiritual growth consists of eight points, and was described comprensively in his 1978 book Meditation (later republished as Passage Meditation). Each point had a dedicated chapter:

1. Meditation: Silent repetition upon memorized inspirational passages from one of the world's great religions. Practiced for one-half hour each morning.
2.  The Mantram: silent repetition of a mantram, holy name or hallowed phrase from one of the world's great religions.
3.  Slowing Down: set priorities to reduce stress and hurry
4. One-Pointed Attention: give full concentration to whatever matter is currently at hand
5. Training the Senses: enjoy simple pleasures in order to avoid craving for unhealthy excess
6. Putting Others First: denounce selfishness and cultivating altruism
7. Spiritual Companionship: practice meditation in the company of others
8. Reading the Mystics: draw inspiration from the writings of the scriptures of all religions.

Passage Meditation is a book by Eknath Easwaran, originally published in 1978 with the title Meditation. The book describes a meditation program, also now commonly referred to as Passage Meditation. Easwaran developed this method of meditation in the 1960s, and first taught it systematically at the University of California, Berkeley.

The program is an eight-point program intended for the "spiritual growth" of the practitioner. The first step in the program involves meditating on a text passage, and since the 1990s the method as a whole has come to be known as "Passage Meditation" (not Easwaran's term). The book has been frequently reprinted and translated into 14 languages. It is reported that more than 200,000 copies were sold in the period of 1978 to 2001.

The first edition of the book had the full title Meditation; commonsense directions for an uncommon life (1978). A second edition in 1991 was subtitled a simple eight-point program for translating spiritual ideals into daily life, and a third, revised edition of the book was published posthumously as Passage Meditation; Bringing the Deep Wisdom of the Heart Into Daily Life (2008).

Practiced for one-half hour daily on first arising, meditation on a passage is the first point in Easwaran's eight point program of Passage Meditation for drawing spiritual ideals into every aspect of daily life:

1.Meditation on a passage
2. Repetition of a mantram (mantra, or prayer word)
3. Slowing down
4. One-pointed attention
5. Training the senses
6. Putting others first
7. Spiritual fellowship
8. Spiritual reading
Meditation on a passage involves silent, focused repetition during meditation of memorized selections from scriptures of the world and writings of great mystics.

According to Easwaran, the practice of meditating on a specific passage of text (Easwaran suggests the Prayer of Saint Francis or Psalm 23 as examples) has the effect of eventually transforming "character, conduct, and consciousness."

The term passage is chosen to describe a spiritually-inspired text that one meditates on, during an extended period of time set aside for meditation, as compared to a mantram (or mantra). Easwaran collected an anthology of selections from the world's spiritual texts, God Makes the Rivers to Flow, for use in meditation.

Repetition of a mantram. Easwaran describes a mantram as a short, powerful spiritual formula which can be repeated, at any time during the day or night, to call up the best and deepest in ourselves, and help to slow down, to become more one-pointed, and to put others first.

Slowing Down is an important spiritual discipline. Living faster and faster gives no time for inner reflection or sensitivity to others, making our lives tense, insecure, inefficient, and superficial. Slowing down helps achieve freedom of action, good relations with others, health and vitality, calmness of mind, and the ability to grow.

One-pointed attention helps to unify consciousness and deepen concentration. Training the mind to give full attention to one thing at a time, whether it is in science or the arts or sports or a profession, is a basic requirement for achieving a goal.

Training the senses means freeing the mind from the tyranny of likes and dislikes so as to "live in freedom", "live intentionally"

Putting others first. Dwelling on ourselves builds a wall between ourselves and others. Those who keep thinking about their needs, their wants, their plans, their ideas, cannot help becoming lonely and insecure. As human beings, it is our nature to be part of a whole, to live in a context where personal relationships are supportive and close.

Spiritual Fellowship with people whose companionship is elevating, and working together for a selfless goal without expecting any reward or recognition, augment and enhance the individual's capacities.

Easwaran says that the eight points, though they may at first seem unrelated, are closely linked. "Quieting your mind in morning meditation, for instance, will help your efforts to slow down at work, and slowing down at work will, in turn, improve your meditation ... Unless you practice all of them, you cannot progress safely and far".

Passage Meditation does not require adherence to any particular religion or belief.
Workers in professional fields, as well as writers of popular books, have cited or been influenced by the passage meditation program. Sometimes, the passage meditation program has been included among resources for complementary and alternative medicine.

Several empirical research studies have examined the effects on health professionals and college undergraduates from receiving training in the Passage Meditation (PM) program. Peer-reviewed research, published in professional psychology and health journals, has shown that following the passage meditation program reduces stress and increases confidence in tasks such as caregiving.

These studies mostly used randomized methods. Like much recent research on meditation (e.g., on mindfulness meditation), research studies on Passage Meditation have neither postulated nor claimed to infer the operation of supernatural or other non-natural, non-psychological processes.

Research on Passage Meditation through early 2007 was reviewed in chapter 6 of Spirit, science and health: How the spiritual mind fuels physical wellness.

In Neurology Now, published by the American Academy of Neurology, the article "Meditation as Medicine" states that various well-designed studies show that meditation can increase attention span, sharpen focus, improve memory, and dull the perception of pain, and lists Passage Meditation as a common meditation method.

Passage Meditation has sometimes been integrated into college curricula.

In 2001, Publishers Weekly reported that the book Meditation (later republished in as Passage Meditation) had "sold more than 200,000 copies since its 1978 debut 

Eknath Easwaran

To enjoy anything, we cannot be attached to it. William Blake understood this beautifully: He who binds to himself a Joy, Doth the winged life destroy; But he who kisses the Joy as it flies / Lives in Eternity's sunrise. What we usually try to do is capture any joy that comes our way before it can escape. We have our butterfly net and go after the joy like a hunter stalking his prey. We hide and wait, pounce on it, catch it, and take it home to put on our wall. When our friends come to visit, we say, "Hey, Stu, would you like to see my joy?" There it is on the wall - dead. We try to cling to pleasure, but all we succeed in doing is making ourselves frustrated because, whatever it promises, pleasure simply cannot last. But if I am willing to kiss the joy as it flies, I say, 'Yes, this moment is beautiful. I won't grab it. I'll let it go.'

“Around the world–even in some of the countries most troubled by poverty or civil war or pollution–many thoughtful people are making a deep, concerted search for a way to live in harmony with each other and the earth. Their efforts, which rarely reach the headlines, are among the most important events occurring today. Sometimes these people call themselves peace workers, at other times environmentalists, but most of the time they work in humble anonymity. They are simply quiet people changing the world by changing themselves.”

 “Love is so exquisitely elusive. It cannot be bought, cannot be badgered, cannot be hijacked. It is available only in one rare form: as the natural response of a healthy mind and healthy heart.”

“One learns a good deal in the school of suffering. I wonder what would have happened to me if I had had an easy life, and had not had the privilege of tasting the joys of jail and all it means."

“As meditation deepens, compulsions, cravings, and fits of emotions begin to lose their power to dictate our behavior. We see clearly that choices are possible: we can say yes, or we can say no.

... "All we are is the result of what we have thought." By changing our mode of thinking, we can remake ourselves completely.”

“Why do you want a new truth when you do not practice what you already know?Far better to read a few books and make them your own than to read many books quickly and superficially.”

 “A mind that is racing over worries about the future or recycling resentments from the past is ill equipped to handle the challenges of the moment. By slowing down, we can train the mind to focus completely in the present. Then we will find that we can function well whatever the difficulties. That is what it means to be stress-proof: not avoiding stress but being at our best under pressure, calm, cool, and creative in the midst of the storm.”

 “Attention can be trained very naturally, with affection, just as you train a puppy. When something distracts your attention, you say “Come back” and bring it back again. With a lot of training, you can teach your mind to come running back to you when you call, just like a friendly pup.”

 “All negative thoughts – anger, fear, passion, compulsive craving -- tend to be fast. If we could see the mind when it is caught in such thoughts, we would really see it racing. But positive thoughts like love, patience, tenderness, compassion, and understanding are slow - not turbulent, rushing brooks of thinking, so to speak but broad rivers that are calm, clear, and deep.”

 “Peace would always be less compelling than war. Perhaps that was why there was so little of it in the world.”

 “As by knowing one tool of iron, dear one, we come to know all things made out of iron: that they differ only in name and form, while the stuff of which all are made is iron- so through that spiritual wisdom, dear one, we come to know that all of life is one.”

“Judged by the normal standards of human affairs, the lives of men and women of God may look overburdened with suffering, and even inconclusive.”
 “Let nothing upset you; Let nothing frighten you. Everything is changing; God alone is changeless. Patience attains the goal. Who has God lacks nothing; God alone fills every need.”

 “Concentration breeds efficiency while division brings inefficiency, error, and tension.”

 “Two forces pervade human life, the Gita says: the upward thrust of evolution and the downward pull of our evolutionary past.”

 “We expect professional and financial success to require time and effort. Why do we take success in our relationships for granted? Why should we expect harmony to come naturally just because we are in love?”

 “….You are an exalted creature, with a spark of the divine within you that nothing you do can extinguish; and you have been granted life in order to give, because it is in giving that we receive....”

 “Reason tells the soul how mistaken it is in thinking that all these earthly things are of the slightest value by comparison with what it is seeking. A little recollection reminds it that all these things come to an end. And faith instructs it in what the soul must do to find satisfaction. . . .”

 “People say that modern life has grown so complicated, so busy, so crowded that we have to hurry even to survive. We need not accept that idea. It is quite possible to live in the midst of a highly developed technological society and keep an easy, relaxed pace while doing a lot of hard work. We have a choice.”

 “Violence only makes a situation worse. It cannot help but provoke a violent response. Strictly speaking, satyagraha is not “nonviolence.” It is a means, a method. The word we translate as “nonviolence” is a Sanskrit word central in Buddhism as well: ahimsa, the complete absence of violence in word and even thought as well as action. This sounds negative, just as “nonviolence” sounds passive. But like the English word “flawless,” ahimsa denotes perfection. Ahimsa is unconditional love; satyagraha is love in action. Gandhi’s message”
 “At the first gate, the gatekeeper asks, “Is this true?” At the second gate, he asks, “Is it kind?” And at the third gate, “Is it necessary?” If we applied this proverb strictly, most of us would have very little to say. I am not recommending silence, however, but control over our speech.”

 “The popular etymology of the word mantram gives us some clue what it means to have the holy name at work in our consciousness. It is said that mantram comes from the roots man, “the mind,” and tri, “to cross.” The mantram is that which enables us to cross the sea of the mind. The sea is a perfect symbol for the mind. It is in constant motion; there is calm one day and storm the next.”

 “In themselves, most of these thoughts are not actually harmful; a few of them may even be rather elevating. The trouble is that we have very little control over them. If you ask the thoughts, they would say, “This poor fellow thinks he is thinking us, but we are thinking him.”

 “The effect of the mantram is cumulative: constant repetition, constant practice, is required for the mantram to take root in our consciousness and gradually transform it, just as constant repetition makes the advertiser’s jingle stick in our minds.”

 “Every human heart has a deep need to love - to be in love, really, with all of life. This is the kind of love that comes when the mind is still. . . . Be still and know that we are all God’s children; then you will be in love with all.”

 “Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; Where there is injury, pardon; Where there is doubt, faith; Where there is despair, hope; Where there is darkness, light; Where there is sadness, joy. O divine master, grant that I may not so much seek To be consoled as to console, To be understood as to understand, To be loved as to love; For it is in giving that we receive; It is in pardoning that we are pardoned; It is in dying to self that we are born to eternal life.”

 “Live only for yourself and you will never grow; live for the welfare of all those around you and you will grow to your full stature.”

 “Each time a divine incarnation comes to us, it is not to bring new truths or to establish a new religion but to remind us of what we have forgotten: that we are all one, and that we must live in harmony with this unity by learning to contribute to the joy and fulfillment of all.”

 “Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; Where there is injury, pardon; Where there is doubt, faith; Where there is despair, hope; Where there is darkness, light; Where there is sadness, joy.   O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek To be consoled as to console, To be understood as to understand, To be loved as to love; For it is in giving that we receive; It is in pardoning that we are pardoned; It is in dying to self that we are born to eternal life.”

 “A mind that is fast is sick, a mind that is slow is sound, and a mind that is still is divine. This is what the Bible means when it says, “Be still and know that I am God.”

 “Full concentration brings relaxation and joy. It is the struggle of divided attention that brings a great deal of the misery that we associate with jobs we don’t like.”

 “Don’t try to control the future,” he would say. “Work on the one thing you can learn to control: your own responses.”

 “When we are caught up in likes and dislikes, in strong opinions and rigid habits, we cannot work at our best, and we cannot know real security either. We live at the mercy of external circumstances: if things go our way, we get elated; if things do not go our way, we get depressed. It is only the mature person – the man or woman who is not conditioned by compulsive likes and dislikes, habits and opinions – who is really free in life. Such people are truly spontaneous. They can see issues clearly rather than through the distorting medium of strong opinions, and they can respond to people as they are and not as they imagine them to be.”

 “Let Nothing Upset You Let nothing upset you; Let nothing frighten you. Everything is changing; God alone is changeless. Patience attains the goal. Who has God lacks nothing; God alone fills every need.”

 “Meditation is the basis of a life of splendid health, untiring energy, unfailing love, and abiding wisdom. It is the very foundation of that deep inner peace for which every one of us longs. No human being can ever be satisfied by money or success or prestige or anything else the world can offer. What we are really searching for is not something that satisfies us temporarily, but a permanent state of joy.” 

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