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The Sun Magazine

Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

The Sacred Path Of The Warrior

Ultimately, that is the definition of bravery: not being afraid of yourself. . . . When we are afraid of ourselves and afraid of the seeming threat the world presents, then we become extremely selfish.

Where Is The Enemy?

Thich Nhat Hanh On Nonviolence

I have a poem for you. It is called: “Please Call Me By My True Names.” This poem is about three of us. The first is a twelve-year-old girl, one of the boatpeople crossing the gulf of Thailand. She was raped by a sea pirate. After that, she threw herself into the ocean. The other person is the sea pirate who was born in a remote village in Thailand. And the third person is me. I had a lot of problems, because I was angry of course. But I could not take sides against the sea pirate. If I could it would be easier; but I could not, because I thought that if I were born in his village and were living his kind of life — economic, educational, and so on — it is very likely that I would now be that sea pirate. So, it is not easy to take sides. And out of suffering I wrote this poem: “Please Call Me By My True Names,” because I have several names and when you call me by my names, I must say: Yes.

Selling Out

I’ve started wearing a tie. To anyone who’s known me for the past fifteen years, this is highly improbable, as if I’d started wearing a dress. I didn’t even have a tie until recently, but I’ve been buying them at the Thrift Shop, for fifty cents each — modest, conservative ties. I’m not dressing as a clown. I’m trying to look like a businessman.

Fiction

Stories

There was a man who came to the Lord Shantih beseeching him to cure his ills. “And what ills do you have?” Lord Shantih asked. “My stomach pains me when I eat too much,” the man said. “My throat is parched when I grow thirsty, and my back aches when I spend the day working in the fields.” “These are the complaints of life,” Lord Shantih told him. “Only death can cure you.” The man cursed Lord Shantih and left in an angry mood, grumbing to his companions. “That man,” Lord Shantih said, “will find his tomb a trifle too cold for his taste.”

The Tall One

He rolls the flower cart down the sidewalk, and I watch him through the window. Six days a week he goes by with his cart of flowers. He comes by just before visiting hours and stays until all the visitors have gone into the hospital. Many of them buy flowers and bring them to the patients. Especially, young fathers buy flowers.

Readers Write

Telling The Truth

I wrote a short story about my father, how we never got along and finally parted in blind, feuding anger. When I was satisfied that this story told the truth — not necessarily the literal truth — I made several copies for people to read. Everyone claimed to be moved.

Personal Stories By Our Readers ▸
Quotations

Sunbeams

Whenever you hear anyone talking about a cultural or even about a human problem, you should never forget to inquire who the speaker really is. The more general the problem, the more he will smuggle his own personal psychology into the account he gives of it.

C.G. Jung

More Quotations ▸
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