Topics | Identity | The Sun Magazine #76

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Identity

Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Release

I cannot write how it was. The world shifted me too fast with each event passing before me, inflicting my nerves with flash-bulb rapidity. I was quietly startled at the fresh novelty. Numb still to the fact I was leaving, disbelieving, an embryo in limbo, sins forgiven, the timelessness suddenly and violently meaning something concrete.

By Jimmy Santiago Baca February 1979
Quotations

Sunbeams

The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience.

Emily Dickinson

January 1979
Photography

California T-Shirts

The photographs in this selection are available as a PDF only. Click here to download.

Photographs By Andrew Williams January 1979
Quotations

Sunbeams

Sport is where an entire life can be compressed into a few hours, where the emotions of a lifetime can be felt on an acre or two of ground, where a person can suffer and die and rise again on six miles of trails through a New York City park. Sport is a theater where sinner can turn saint and a common man become an uncommon hero, where the past and future can fuse with the present. Sport is singularly able to give us peak experiences where we feel completely one with the world and transcend all conflicts as we finally become our own potential.

George A. Sheehan

December 1978
Fiction

Vision In Black

And cope. I was to hear that again and again. It was multi-faceted, that word. It meant endurance, it expressed discipline — a psychological gymnastics involving stretching, reaching, bending, stooping, doing whatever was necessary to maintain the standards.

By Misty Hasman December 1978
Photography

Mirror Of Mind

Take a look inside yourself and see that there really is no self, unless you create this idea conceptually. Mind is infinite, boundless, and without form. Concepts are form. You can never figure out Mind through concepts because this is trying to limit the limitless. . . .

By Russell McDougal December 1978
Fiction

Byron And The Owl

Byron was born and raised in the City, but he was very unhappy there. He went to work every day in an office with bright lights and soft furniture, and though the people he worked with always seemed to have fun, he was usually unhappy. “I feel out of place,” he’d say, and he’d dream of the forests, rivers, and skies he had seen on camping trips to the mountains.

By Bill Herron October 1978