Sy Safransky

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December 1978

Thanksgiving

Anchors raised, we were a free people journeying into our own living flesh, and consciousness striving to know itself: political freedom; economic freedom; sexual freedom; artistic freedom. The freedom to abuse freedom. To enslave, and to set free. To become President, and to bear arms: to lean a rifle on a window sill, take aim, squeeze the trigger, and hurl a tiny speck of our own dark heart into the tissue of another. All for the sake of freedom — the greatest burden, the greatest joy.

Editor’s Note

The Whole Earth Jamboree

Don’t tap your foot. Listen to the words. If I was to be marooned on a South Sea Island with a half dozen metaphors, that would be one. It’s as elastic as a new pair of underwear, and snugly fits the times. Marooned last month in California, at the Whole Earth Jamboree, I listened. In California, the beat is compelling. It’s a state, and a state of mind, where everything seems possible, where the dreams of an age sink down roots, and grow, as dramatically as Findhorn’s 40-pound cabbages, yet may die before their seeds are carried “in from the coast.” Reflecting the best and worst in ourselves, it’s still the frontier, ever receding; the deeper we go into ourselves, the more there is to discover.

Thank You

Five Poems

I want to love loneliness / the way I love you. I want / to enter it and twist up its / hair in my fist.

An Interview With Peter Caddy

I live in the moment. Fully in the moment, not worrying about the next day or thinking about the past day. So there are certain techniques that one learns. I thoroughly enjoy life. I enjoy what I am doing, and I know that I am guided step by step, and all that needs to happen, happens.

July 1978

Does The Sun Have A Future?

Does THE SUN have a future? The question is not rhetorical. THE SUN may not have a future. That’s something I don’t like to contemplate, but no one likes to think about the death of someone, or something, he loves.

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March 1978

An American Dream

Nothing shocks us anymore. The line between social truth and social fiction has been erased (from the Warren Commission to Watergate we have been asked to disbelieve our eyes and ears) and we are in the curious no-man’s-land of the artist, the madman and the saint. There is no consensus reality; there never was.