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Vocation

Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Researching The Invisible: A Geometrical Insinuation

When I am awake I call myself a student of the occult. Though occult research is regarded as a profession less respectable than most, it is enough to provide me with an acceptable, if peripheral role in the social body.

Lamellicorn the Clone (Rob Brezsny) September 1975
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Response To Sy Safransky’s “An Open Letter To Ram Dass”

One day in 1971 my Guru asked me what I did about the letters I received. I replied that I answered them. Two letters had been brought to him that day. One letter he put on top of his head and the other he held between his hands for a moment. Then he tore up both of them and threw them on the ground.

By Ram Dass 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

Doing Business

I am interested in being part of a community business for a number of reasons. Basically, I am sick and tired of working for organizations which put some distant goal or task (such as working on a “very important” government research contact) above my own needs as a person.

By Hal Richman April 1975
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Treehouse: Growing Up, But Mostly Growing

I came to Tree House because I was under so much pressure at home I was about to have a breakdown. My family had broken up and I was living with my mother and my brother.

By Cindy Crossen And Chip April 1975
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

First Night

Speaking without words is like bleeding. The actualization of color in the chest. A chapter in flesh-tones. A swim in the energy that moves people, that draws on the subtle influence of inner mysteries — those essences which are the source of human action.

By Joe Blankenship April 1975
Fiction

All In A Day’s Work

It came as no shock as I looked at the paper that our noble Leaders declared our Nation’s economic plight. Vaguely, I understood the declarations after earnestly seeking employment for the past two years, though never in Cincinnati. Maybe my first clue was the infinite numbers who trod the highways from nowhere to anywhere searching for a friendly face and a pot of somewhere beans on the side of the road.

By Ilyo July 1974