We use cookies to improve our services and remember your choices for future visits. For more information see our Privacy Policy and Terms of Use.
We use cookies to improve our services and remember your choices for future visits. For more information see our Privacy Policy and Terms of Use.
My mother is seated in the shade of the balcony of her apartment in San Diego, the sun relentless in this desert-become-a-city. She stares into that cloudless blue sky. Cancer has begun its final assault upon her body.
By Kenneth KlonskyNovember 1990A repressed memory, a custody battle, a summer on the prairies
By Our ReadersNovember 1990Sharing C rations, picking up where you left off, stealing forbidden knowledge
By Our ReadersAugust 1990Lil’ Audrey had heard that joke weeks before at school, but she didn’t think people, even her Daddy, should be telling jokes about the dead. Besides, she knew Octavia’s grandson, Skeeter, was one of Dr. King’s followers.
By Karen EssexJune 1990His renewal began with the appearance of that most despised of all the midnight messengers, THE COSELL, and the anguished realization of that most dreadful day’s certain coming.
By William PenrodJune 1990Andy was already twelve when I met him. He lived at our local dharma study group center, where we talked about impermanence, suffering, enlightenment, compassion, old age, death, the meaning of self, and in what sense the mind could be said to continue beyond death.
By Stephen T. ButterfieldMay 1990I met Gary Blake at the meditation hall. It was a place of silence, but Gary Blake was not a silent man.
By Natalie GoldbergApril 1990We are immortal until the hour death first seizes our imagination. This goes for species as well as individuals. To die you must once consider death and think of it as beautiful. All spiritual advances are advances in aesthetics.
By David Brendan HopesApril 1990Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
Subscribe Today