Herb Boyd is an awarding-winning American author and journalist who has published 17 books and countless articles for national magazines and newspapers. Brotherman:The Odyssey of Black Men in America: An Anthology (One World/Ballantine, 1995), co-edited with Robert Allen of the Black Scholar journal, won the American Book Award for nonfiction. In 1999, Boyd won three first place awards from the New York Association of Black Journalists for his articles published in the Amsterdam News. In 2006, Boyd worked with world music composer Yusef Lateef on his autobiography The Gentle Giant, which was published by Morton Books of New Jersey. In 2008, he published Baldwin's Harlem: A Biography of James Baldwin, and is working with filmmaker Keith Beauchamp on several projects. Boyd has been inducted into both the Literary Hall of Fame for Writers of African Descent and the Madison Square Garden Hall of Fame as a journalist. Along with his writing, Boyd is also the Managing Editor of The Black World Today, one of the leading online publications on the Internet. Boyd, a graduate of Wayne State University in Detroit, teaches African and African-American History at the College of New Rochelle in the Bronx, and is an adjunct instructor at City College in the Black Studies Department.

Anne is an author, journalist, broadcaster, partner – and mother to three grown sons. She gave up the struggle to decide which of these roles is most important and relaxed into acceptance that all are important. Her priorities are: partner and three sons in equal measure. She writes to earn a living. “Writing is not just about the joy of earning money. Writing, of any sort, offers such a spark of creativity that it compensates for the tough things in life. And of course life has been both tough and joyful," she says.

~ New York Times Review of Books November 21, 1982 Most people think they use language to communicate. But language is insidious; it determines the way we think. Modern philosophers say we live in a universe limited by our language. Ludwig Wittgenstein even said we were ''bewitched.'' James Powell goes a little further. He examines the symbols of language the way a biologist examines cells. By inquiring into the nature of symbols themselves, he hopes to show the transcendental capacity of language not for mere communication but for ''communion.'' He assures us that the universe is a silent partner in a dialogue that goes on all the time and that throughout history certain images and techniques of meditation have led consciousness to break through the limitations of language. Mr. Powell argues that we tend to underestimate the volatility of symbols. In world politics, we can easily see the danger of a breakdown in communication. When one world of meaning has no reality for the other, dialogue stops, sometimes violently. If the breakdown is taken as a failure in communication, in which each side sees the other as willfully irrational, the result is explosive. If, however, the failure is seen as a collision of symbol systems, each of which has absolute internal reality, then dialogue may be pursued with a different understanding. 'The Tao of Symbols is Mr. Powell's attempt to bring occupants of different worlds together (Buddhist and Moslem, scientist and sage) and to suggest the basis for a new kind of dialogue. Some Suggestions for Interreligious Dialog In addition to his published works, he collaborated with Imogen Cunningham on a photographically illustrated translation of the verse of St. John of the Cross. ) Prologues to What Is Possible 1. There was an ease of mind that was like being alone in a boat at sea, A boat carried forward by waves resembling the bright backs of rowers, Gripping their oars, as if they were sure of the way to their destination, Bending over and pulling themselves erect on the wooden handles, Wet with water and sparkling in the one-ness of their motion. The boat was built of stones that had lost their weight and being no longer heavy Had left in them only a brilliance, of unaccustomed origin, So that he that stood up in the boat leaning and looking before him Did not pass like someone voyaging out of and beyond the familiar. He belonged to the far-foreign departure of his vessel and was part of it, Part of the speculum of fire on its prow, its symbol, whatever it was, Part of the glass-like sides on which it glided over the salt-stained water. As he traveled alone, like a man lured on by a syllable without any meaning, A syllable of which he felt, with an appointed sureness, That it contained the meaning into which he wanted to enter, A meaning which, as he entered it, would shatter the boat and leave the oarsmen quiet As at a point of central arrival, an instant moment, much or little, Removed from any shore, from any man or woman, and needing none.

Hi there and thanks for visiting my goodreads profile. I'm a writer working in the foothills of Appalachia, Ohio. I've got a new collection of essays coming out. It's called In Praise of Nothing. If you'd like to take a look, you can download an excerpt here. There's also a multimedia version of the book with audio and video content. You can find a sample of that material at the book's website, which includes three "playable" essays based on some familiar games: http://www.inpraiseofnothing.org Feel free to get in touch. It's a quirky collection, and I'd welcome your thoughts.

Emeritus Professor of Philosophy at the College of Marin in Kentfield, California. He is known for writing introductory books on philosophy and philosophers which attempt to make philosophical ideas accessible to novices. He also illustrates his own books. Currently he is visiting Assistant Professor of Philosophy at North Carolina State University in Raleigh, North Carolina.