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The Sun Interview

Dreams Without End

An Interview With Robert Anton Wilson

From his writings, I knew Robert Anton Wilson was a brilliant man, witty and savvy, a bold dreamer and an intellectual provocateur who challenged many of my own ideas — and thus someone who would be worth hearing. But I almost walked out during his recent talk in Chapel Hill. He seemed arrogant, quick to make fun of other people. He also seemed too adoring of such futuristic ideas as personal immortality (literal immortality through conquering death) and mass migration to outer space (millions of “colonists” leaving the planet to live in high-tech bubble cities orbiting Earth).

Essays, Memoirs, and True Stories

The Shadow

If many people today are wallowing in pessimism, this may simply be the flip side of a culture in which everybody is expected to keep smiling and “have a nice day.” Someone says, “How are you?” and you respond, “Fine.” Have you ever said anything else in reply to “How are you?” Maybe, but it takes some daring, because no one expects any other answer but “Fine.” “How are you?” is not really a question, but a greeting. And “Fine“ is not really an answer, but an acknowledgement of the greeting. “How are you?” “Fine.” The two are inseparable.

The Written Word

I walk for hours in the Arizona desert after I have talked with my mother. She is terrified, not only at the prospect of my father’s death, but also at the anger with which he responds to the small difficulties of getting through his days as an invalid. He shouts at her and criticizes her for small things, though nothing that troubles him is really her fault. His problem is that he is dying. She holds her tongue, finishes her task, which is usually feeding him or trying to make him more comfortable, and then she goes into the kitchen and weeps. She is afraid that she will remember him for these final bursts of anger and not for their long good years together. I tell her that I hope it’s like childbirth — you forget the pain quickly and remember the rest. I take my walks while my father is sleeping.


Letters Unsent

It always makes me feel funny when you wax emphatic about what a “dyed-in-the-wool atheist” you are. Of course you’re an atheist. We’re all atheists fundamentally. How could it be otherwise? Saying you’re an atheist is like telling people you’re a human being when nobody doubted it in the first place.


You feel, when you enter the Castaway, that you’ve left the other world behind, cast off, and floated to a new world.

*NOTE: Original copies of this issue are no longer available. Unbound, laser-printed copies will be provided for print orders.

Readers Write

Obstacles To Peace

I have worked for inner and outer peace for years, and one of the hardest tests I ever faced started in the summer about four years ago when we were visited by ants. At the time, I was meditating and studying Buddhism, and was very aware of the ramifications of killing any living being. I ignored the ants as best I could until one day I came across an article on “Spiritual Pest Control.” The author mainly encouraged communication as the method of choice, and pointed out that since ants live in colonies, you can’t just talk to one of them. You must wait until you see a bunch and address them together.

Personal Stories By Our Readers ▸


Real happiness is cheap enough, yet how dearly we pay for its counterfeit.

Hosea Ballou

More Quotations ▸
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