Losing them, fixing them, forgetting to put them in
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There are many prisons — illness, poverty, insanity. Life itself. We create our own realities; if we bleed for one another, so must we laugh. But it’s no less the prison for our having laid the brick.
The question is not “How can we get them to feed themselves?” How paternalistic! People will feed themselves unless they are prevented from doing so. The fact is that the poor of this world are engaged in feeding us and trying to feed themselves.
Maybe this is one way women can help our present troubled society when they are given opportunities like I’ve had: trust their human responses and instincts and go through the invisible walls that cause us all so much suffering.
“Communication” is a big deal. It is one of the main buzzwords of our time, and has been ever since our intellectuals stumbled over such compelling cultural data as the number of years a child spends in front of a television and the billions of trees that yearly become pages of one sort or another.
In 1969, you could study dance in Chapel Hill either at Bounds Studio, or in a physical education class. A glance at the listing of dance classes in this section shows how that’s changed.
What is best in the Journal is its singular beauty and clarity of vision. Singular because not just the quotes from the Buddhist and Hindu sources but the day-to-day description of people and events are sharply defined, moving, and loveable.
Hopefully we all agree by now that there is an immediate need for energy conservation. Convincing arguments can be made on economic, political, and environmental grounds for conservation. This article considers the economic basis since that’s what motivates most people.
I spend a good part of my existence avoiding “unpleasant” feelings. Especially lately, as much old pain surges up, I avoid without allowing myself the awareness that I am avoiding.
For me, business and livelihood means trying to pay my bills by doing what I enjoy doing and would probably do anyway, even if I had a more conventional job.
Commander Arthur Wazu, a broken man, sat disconsolately on the spaceship veranda, gazing at Shlerpy, one of the nine moons of planet 4-b.