Topics | Spirituality | The Sun Magazine #63

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Spirituality

Poetry

Asiatic Black Woman

Crown Of Creation, Fruit Of Planet Earth, Mother Of The Universe

By Sherman Shelton November 1975
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Feeling G--d

I’ll start with feeling bad. It’s a bone with a little — you should pardon the expression — meat on it. Tears are tears. Nobody needs to tell you how to feel bad. It’s as natural as bleeding. As natural as concentration camps, impotence, or saying the wrong thing.

By Sy Safransky September 1975
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Spiritual Judo

The usual assumption about power is that there is only one kind — physical. Spiritual power exists too, though the two are not entirely unrelated, in my experience anyway.

By Norm Moser September 1975
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Psychic Healing

You won’t find their names listed by the American Medical Association. There’s no degree on the wall. The knives they use for surgery might be rusty, or they might use no knives at all. Yet, thousands of ailing people have, for centuries, reported miraculous cures by psychic healers.

By Priscilla Rich Safransky September 1975
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Idealism And Other Cheap Thrills

I lost idealism, which is a blind, naive, childish view of human existence, and I began to have faith. There had to be a reason for all of this suffering. There had to be a way for people to reach one another, to not have to live in constant fear.

By Blue Harary June 1975
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

An Open Letter To Ram Dass

It’s been more than a year since we met. Unless your recall is better than I imagine, I doubt you remember me. We talked for an hour; I was, ostensibly, interviewing you, for the first issue of THE SUN. In fact, I just wanted to be with you, and needed a good excuse.

By Sy Safransky April 1975
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

The New Age: Who Dares Believe It?

I remember when we dressed in silks, all hair and bells and sweet hallucination, and the bird that rose in our chest we called freedom, and let fly. It was the demand air made of us, and we made a fashion of the wind, sweeping, gliding, curving it to our needs.

By Sy Safransky April 1975
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Sy’s New York Diary

Everyone in high, high heels, reaching for heaven, an eyebrow raised above the clouds, trying to see.

By Sy Safransky April 1974