I want to thank you for sending me a copy of The Sun that contained the article written by Cat Saunders on my checkered career [“Reflections of a Ninety-Three-Year-Old Revolutionary,” Issue 190]. Cat did a conscientious job. My only complaint is that I didn’t make better answers to some of her questions.
In the introduction by T.L. Toma, there were a few minor inaccuracies: I never spoke in Sweden; I was born in Victoria, British Columbia, not Vancouver; my father was a marine cook, not a factory worker, although my mother was; and I don’t live in a “small, one-bedroom apartment.” I live in a fairly large two-bedroom apartment, one room serving as my office.
Try not to hate me for all this nit-picking. In an interview, I once said that the bird, the brown creeper, always went down the tree — when any self-respecting bird-watcher knows it always goes up the tree. But who cares about such nit-picking? Certainly not the bird.
My love to you all.
Congratulations on your award from the Utne Reader, as announced in Issue 189! Though I am a relatively new subscriber, I already see the reason for their decision.
Buy the weighs . . . I had not noticed your typos (hahaha) but would advise you to consult an astrologer. The issue in question was published within a Mercury retrograde cycle, meaning that from our view, ole Merc appears to be going backward. During such times, the Trickster archetype is in high form and all things “ruled” by Mercury — communications, for one — are less predictable. It appears you all got your share of tricks. Knowing the retrograde periods, you can put out the alert. Extra checking and stuff helps, but Mercury will have its way. Your fine sense of humor will be your only saving grace.
I am a professional astrologer as well as a certified public accountant. Seems strange, but they actually require similar skills.
It’s a good thing Sparrow did not have an abortion or we would have to read about it in the Us [Issue 190] section.
Call me naive, but I am always shocked when I read letters from those quick to cancel their subscriptions. No other publication I receive makes love to that deep, sublime, and elusive spot in me where truth lives. Like intimacy with another human being, my relationship to The Sun is not always comfortable or cheery; yet it’s this that makes it so delicious and alive.
We should shuck off those relationships that don’t work, so I understand why some people cancel their subscriptions. But when readers insinuate that an article on unorthodox spirituality or sexuality is inappropriate, I cringe. When we separate sex from spiritual transformation, which is then separated from war, poverty, and illiteracy, we might as well cut ourselves off at the neck!
Everyone has his or her limits. I’m not ready to smear my naked body with ashes and hang out around the burning grounds, but my boundaries are my responsibility. The Sun, however, is about as limitless as it gets.