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Readers Write

What Is Sex?

If I knew what sex is, I’d be preaching it right now to global audiences. Unfortunately, I don’t.

By Our Readers June 1982


Once, in the Orient, I talked of suicide with a sage whose clear and gentle eyes seemed forever to be gazing at a never-ending sunset. “Dying is no solution,” he affirmed. “And living?” I asked. “Nor living either,” he conceded. “But, who tells you there is a solution?”

Elie Wiesel

May 1981
Readers Write

Fear And Courage

Fear is lack of information. It is ignorance. It is the belief that one has lost control of any given situation or group of situations.

By Our Readers November 1980
Essays, Memoirs, and True Stories

The Genius Of The Planet

Jealous of the female art of creation, man conjured up the art of the mummified reflection, and so was born the Work of Art: a solid hunk of inanimate matter scratched and battered into a shape codifying his unique understandings. A more ideal mate than Woman herself, the Work of Art is utterly faithful in replicating man’s image, and resistant, unlike himself, to the armies of decay. When his body is but a grey pool of foam greasing the slide of bones back to earth, a simple computerized image of himself lives on in his masterpiece. He worships art as the means of gaining victory over death.

By Medea January 1976
Essays, Memoirs, and True Stories

Communicating With Yourself

A friend comes to my home. She tells me that she is very mad, and her mouth forms a tense but full smile. Another conversation, the person tells me that he is feeling “good, real fine.” His eyes make no contact with mine, his brow is furrowed, his body appears stiff. At a party, a recent acquaintance says that she would like to get to know me better. Her arms and legs are crossed, and she is leaning away from me.

By Leaf Diamant January 1976
Essays, Memoirs, and True Stories

Peopletalk: Language And Other Expressions

There is intentional communication and there is unintentional communication. Tolstoy said everything we do expresses something about us, but nothing we do expresses everything. Expressing one’s self is as real a human need as hunger. Yet, to avoid that nagging feeling that one is not saying what one means, one must first know who he is. Paradoxically, to solve that problem one must periodically abstain from communicating anything. That is, spending time alone the better to know one’s self and to avoid the miring of the self in a swamp of superficiality. Everyone needs occasional refueling. There must be unimpinged upon time for experience to be digested, assessed and assimilated. Otherwise self-expression remains on a cliched level, while the soul, unheeded, yearns to grow through an expanded understanding of the universe through which the body is and has been moving.

By Priscilla Rich Safransky January 1976
Essays, Memoirs, and True Stories

Dear Buddha

What is the body? Is the brain a biological mechanism that "creates” consciousness , or rather the manifestation of something beyond — and perhaps the source of — the physical?

By The Sun December 1975
Essays, Memoirs, and True Stories

Untitled (“In therapy using massive doses of LSD”)

“In therapy using massive doses of LSD, a condition of chemically enforced insanity takes place. By insanity, I mean a situation in which the conscious mind is forced into a state of powerlessness. There is a literal assault made not only upon the psyche, but upon the organizational framework that makes it possible for you to exist rationally in the world that you know. The ego, of course, cannot be annihilated in physical life. Kill one and another will, and must, emerge from the inner self which is its source.

By Seth December 1975
Essays, Memoirs, and True Stories

Psychedelics In Perspective

The emergence of psychedelic drugs into contemporary society has probably created as much controversy as any other agent affecting the body-mind complex of man since the discovery of fire.

By David Bonnis December 1975
Essays, Memoirs, and True Stories

Psychic Healing

Science can’t explain it, but science can’t explain aspirin.

By Priscilla Rich Safransky September 1975