In the Wind

By John Mobyed

In The Wind or seeking to follow the leading of the
Lord I spent about 7 years living on the streets of North, South and Central
America. During these travels Gods presence became very real at times as I
experienced the baptism of the Holy Spirit and numerous miracles to save
me. A strong leading from the Lord led me home to my ailing Mother where
in care for her I again became involved with the affairs of this life. Now with
3 children a mortgage and the works, I still find joy in the Lord as I praise
Him and try to give thanks in all things.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 7, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462847525

John Mobyed

I was raised in Garden City New York, an upper middle class village. I then spent 2 years in University, 2 years in the Marine Corps and 14 years with an Insurance company. In the late 60’s I began tuning into the happenings of the day. I then began turning on and found myself living in a Tee Pee with my girl friend Lorraine in the Catskill Mountains. The cold and snow then had us leave for Florida where after a comfortable year we parted ways and I found myself wandering the highways trying to make some sense out of things. I had been tripping LSD for the past several years and although frightening at times it did convince of a higher truth and reality. God however in his mercy led me to his word and a Christian commune before I tripped out. Then after almost a year with different Christian groups I found myself mostly alone traveling the highways trying to live the scriptures. “In The Wind” or seeking to follow the leading of the Lord I spent about 7 years living on the streets of North, South and Central America. During these travels Gods presence became very real at times as I experienced the baptism of the Holy Spirit and numerous miracles to save me. A strong leading from the Lord led me home to my ailing Mother where in care for her I again became involved with the affairs of this life. Now with 3 children a mortgage and the works, I still find joy in the Lord as I praise Him and try to give thanks in all things.

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Copyright © 2011 by John Mobyed.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2011912457

ISBN: Hardcover    978-1-4628-4751-8

ISBN: Softcover     978-1-4628-4750-1

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In The Wind

SPRING 1974, I found myself in a lounge chair in the student union building of Amherst University, Massachusetts. Found is an overstatement, as fragments of reality, self, and sanity were making a slow and tantalizing return. This was following a rather intense and terrifying acid trip. Acid (LSD) is colorless, odorless, and tasteless, yet one drop can take you on a trip into a different reality. It is a peek into the now where past and future and self do not exist. Daily routine fades, leaving you spiraling through ever-changing forms of reality. It can be intense and terrifying yet, at the same time, rewarding, as you are permitted a revealing view of daily routine with its many absurdities. You also gain the appreciation of a divine power and order. I was not a novice having tripped thirty to forty times; however, this trip had taken me to new and scary places. I recall approaching a frontier in which I had to let go of all control. In doing so, I actually found a reasonable stability and peace.

Now the first rays of dawn were beginning to filter through the large front window of the student union, which brought added comfort to my reentry. I had hitchhiked back to Woodstock where I had lived for more than a year with my girlfriend, Lorraine. It was only last week that we parted in Florida, this after four blessed years together. An angel on earth if ever there was one, Lorraine lived in space I seemed only to approach on acid. She was my constant companion, always traveling with me and able to guide me back from paranoid spaces with a gentle word. This was without her ever doing acid.

I was now thirty-eight years old, and my life had taken some wide and odd turns. I graduated from Garden City High School on Long Island and then spent two years at Boston University taking general education. Then, not able to figure out what I wanted to do with my life, I enlisted in the Marine Corps. I enlisted in 1956 and, fortunately, served between Korea and Vietnam and did not see combat. I was lucky too and spent most of my enlistment in Japan and the Far East.

On discharge, I followed my dad’s footsteps and became a traveling auditor with Metropolitan Life Insurance Company. This worked for twelve years as I had relative freedom as I traveled the states, auditing the branch offices. I was then offered a promotion to work in the home office in Manhattan. The company was in the process of installing an electronic system to link the branch offices with the home office. Because of my knowledge of the district office procedures, I was assigned to work in an electronic planning unit with mostly young computer programmers.

Traveling and living in hotels had been free, but somewhat lonely and empty. I normally would spend two weeks in each town conducting an audit of the district office and would try to fill my spare time and loneliness by womanizing. Single and with a decent salary and expense account, I spent most of my money on clothes and a late-model car. There were occasions where I would read eastern religions as I don’t recall ever feeling really happy or fulfilled. Most of these religions spoke of an inner peace and higher consciousness, which I feel I have been pursuing most of my life. I did love traveling, but I recall a loneliness that seemed to follow me.

It was 1968, and the country was involved in Vietnam, and I was working with a number of idealistic young computer programmers. It seemed that I had lived in some form of bubble when traveling. Here I began hearing, as for the first time, the discontent with the war, government, and the industrial military complex. The answer was made simple: Tune in, turn on, and drop out. Many of my new young friends made the trip to Woodstock, and looking back, I regret I didn’t. I did at least begin to wake up to the realities of the day.

I rented a large studio apartment on Twentieth Street and Third Avenue in Manhattan, just above the East Village. It wasn’t long before my new friends from work and others from the East Village visited, and I started smoking pot and tuning into this new world. I had reached management with Met. Life and was making fairly good money, and I began buying pot by the pound and sharing it at cost with my new friends. My apartment soon became a convenient hangout. I did not set out to be a dealer, but the word of cheap pot soon spread, which led to growing traffic to my door. It was only by the grace of God I was not busted. I was soon introduced to mescaline, mushrooms, and acid, and my life with Metropolitan Life was on the fast track to disaster. My doorman was amused too; with my return from work in my Brooks Brothers suit, I soon departed on my bike stoned, wearing ragged jeans and an army jacket.

Night and day there was always company in my apartment. Some nights I would rely on a few trusted friends to keep some type of order as I found space outside on my bike, enjoying the challenge of navigating Manhattan on acid. This is not highly recommended as the odds were in favor of being wiped out even if straight. For whatever reason, I was spared and would, on occasion, experience the city turning into a fantasy land with the lights, sirens, and traffic set to the beat of the walking multitudes. At times I would catch a glimpse of a tranquil starry sky, which made it the more surreal.

I soon started taking a taste of mescaline before work. This was very bizarre as much of my time at work was spent on a planning committee for new electronic procedures. It became difficult trying to relate to why I was there, much less to any new electronic procedures. Looking back, I surely had a guardian angel who had to work overtime to save me from myself.

I usually avoided cocaine; however, one night I did a few lines with a friend, and we went looking for a bar with good music. Max’s Kansas City on Seventeenth and Park Avenue was close by and usually a winner. Max’s was a form of an upscale head restaurant/bar. Here I found space at the bar next to a young girl with long black hair hiding a very cute face. She said her name was Lorraine and refused a drink but did accept a soda and then an invite back to a party at my apartment. It wasn’t a lie as it was always party time at my apartment. I had three or four friends that formed a core group, and most of the time was spent getting high to Janis Joplin, Richie Havens, Joan Baez, Bob Dylan, and the likes and playing chess or checkers.

Lorraine, without much to say, made herself comfortable on the couch and took more of a backseat, apparently content to turn on and listen to the music. When I left for work in the morning, Lorraine was still there, curled up on the couch. I was also surprised and happy to find her when I came home. Mysterious and quiet, she was still on the couch with a box of Benson & Hedges cigarettes, reading the New York Times. It was very comforting for me as she became a permanent fixture. She would go out briefly to get cigarettes and the New York Times and food for the evening. We did have sex, but this was not what she was about. We all fell in love with her as she was a constant calm when things got weird. She was a port in the storm, quiet and kept to herself, yet totally aware and with added humor when we needed it. She loved pot but refused stronger drugs and seemed to occupy a space most of us seemed to be trying to get to. After several weeks, she disappeared without notice to return the next day with a small suitcase of her clothes. She had made a trip to her parents’ home in Queens. Now twenty-four, she looked younger than her years. Her long black hair usually covered much of her face, and she wore a black peacoat, dungarees, and totally nowhere sneakers. The simple type, blue canvas with white rubber soles, the kind my mother used to wear. She always remained mysterious but did admit to being a graduate of Hunter High School with a degree in art appreciation from Hunter College.

Lorraine had filled an emptiness I seemed to have been carrying forever. We weren’t much for going, out but one night, we did find ourselves at a very bizarre East Village party. Pot, mescaline, acid, and an unidentified assortment of pills were circulating. I was beginning to start a voyage into some unknown realm when George, a scrubby young man pretending to ride a horse, started to circle the room, inviting everyone to his farm in the Catskill Mountains. Crazy as he seemed he was a welcome change for me. He and his girlfriend, Sheila, and Lorraine and I became instant friends. Sheila, who was