Walking Cross-Town. Heal the wounds. Heal the wounds from the ground up.


“Pray for me.”

Soft spoken and gentle, he leans into a man and his child amid the throng on the streets of DC.

He repeats.

“Please pray for me.”

I ponder that for a moment.  And, I keep walking.

Barricades are coming up. Husky NYPD officers are manning their stations. NYPD Commissioner Bratton quipped that the pontiff will have “6,000 guardian angels watching him.” He means “Six thousand police officers, 1,173 police cars, 818 tons of concrete barriers and 39 miles of metal and wood barricades are what is needed to help protect Pope Francis on his visit to NYC.”

6000 Guardian Angels. 818 tons of concrete. 39 miles of metal and wood barricades.

I walk.

The flock is amassing.

Man with Gramophone stands in front of Madison Square Garden warning of Armageddon. [Read more…]

Lightly child, lightly


An absurd lightness
draped itself around him;
all things were possible,
all things were manageable.

~ Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, from Half of a Yellow Sun


  • Image Source: Precious Things. Photographer: Samo Vidic. Athlete: Jorge Ferzuli
  • Poem Source: the distance between two doors
  • Prior “Lightly child, lightly” Posts? Connect here.
  • Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”


Jake Isaac is a singer songwriter from London. You can find him on Facebook.

Interview excerpt from Figure8Magazine:

Q: You’ve mentioned in that past that your father is a vicar; did that religious upbringing have an effect on your song writing?

JI: My father being a minister affects me, definitely my ethics and where my head is at. But also just my father’s taste in music, at an early age he was into Paul Simon’s Graceland record, and a bit of Mozart and Ladysmith Black Mambazo and I think his taste in music has had a bigger effect on me than I realised.

It would just be there


I lie awake,
wishing I had faith of some kind.
I’ve caught glimpses of it now and then,
I can even conjure it up for a second or two,
but it fades.
It’s a stillness,
the polar opposite of worry.
It isn’t hope;
hope has too much energy,
requires constant renewal;
faith (if I had it) would just be there.

~ Abigail Thomas, Safekeeping: Some True Stories From a Life

Photograph: A. Sprigg via Precious Things

Here. But There.


~ Robert Creeley,  Pieces in The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945-1975, Volume 1

Source: invisiblestories.

Good enough for Einstein



  • Source: Poppins-me
  • Inspiration: “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” (Albert Einstein) 

holding it at arm’s length, clutching its shoulders

photography,black and white

You’ve seen the way in which a woman chooses a dress from her closet, then stands before a mirror, holding it at arm’s length, clutching its shoulders as if it were a son she is sending to war, looking him up and down and then drawing him close and pressing him against her breast. And then she sees herself embracing him, and smiles, the two of them looking so perfect together, full of such hope, facing the future.

~ Ted Kooser, The Wheeling Year: A Poet’s Field Book

Photograph:  Drowned in Daydreams

MMM*: Their hope is so bright I can almost see it.


My students still don’t know what they will never be. Their hope is so bright I can almost see it. I used to value the truth of whether this student or that one would achieve the desired thing. I don’t value that truth anymore as much as I value their unrest hope. I don’t care that one in two hundred of them will ever become what they feel they must become. I care only that I am able to witness their faith in what’s coming next.

~ Sarah Manguso, Ongoingness: The End of a Diary

Notes: MMM* = Monday Morning Mantra. Photograph: in-constancy. Related Manguso posts: Manguso @ Live & Learn

Driving I-95 S. With Tiger.


Thursday, February 12, 2015.

It’s 6:12 am.
Overcast, and 17° F.  Pre-dawn.
The Groundhog forecasts 6 more weeks, he’s been wrong before.

I-95 South is dry.
The wind kicks up road salt, swirling behind the mud flaps of convoys of truckers barreling into Manhattan.
It’s a race to beat the morning Rush. Smokey & The Bandit. Snowman. Buford T. Justice.
Traffic is light and smooth. VO Manhattan. Neat.

Same car.
Same highway.
Same route.
Same Ólafur Arnalds’ playlist.
Same destination.
Same damn biting cold. [Read more…]

The winter will fly swiftly


The winter will fly swiftly,
then will be the spring —
think of nothing but hope —
heed nothing but anticipation…

– Emily Dickinson, in a letter to Austin Dickinson, November 16, 1851

Notes: Dickinson quote via Lit Verve. Photograph: We-Love-Rain via Through Dreams