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The Sun Magazine

Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

The High Diving Board

The high diving board is the first thing you see when approaching Forest Swimming Pool. It stands like a guard tower over the fence-enclosed pool. I’ve been watching this high diving board and the activity that surrounds it for thirty years. As a child I couldn’t wait to go off that precipice. When my turn came I did the best cannonball possible for someone wearing surfer trunks and not wanting to get his hair wet.

Kali Comes Home

From the outside looking in, it appears that not only do I live alone, but I maintain a hermit’s existence, an ascetic’s search for bare basics, primitively situated in the middle of a heavily wooded forest, with no avenue of approach, no charming old road bed, nor a new one. There is only a dogpath, barely discernible in the daylight, which disappears entirely at dusk.

As Beautiful As A Tree

I sat down Sunday to draw a tree. I had been thinking about it for awhile, and wanted to slow myself down so I could see it well enough to create it on paper. I also needed a “tree” to put on my business card — a symbol of what I am about. So, finally, after having seen “the” tree many times on my way home from work, I took along the pens and paper and sat down to draw.

An Evening With Ram Dass

The reason I work with dying people is that it’s the biggest drama going in the society. Everybody thinks it’s real.

Fiction

A Neighbor At The Door

Winchell’s donuts is one block over from our apartment house and four blocks down, a good place for everyone in the neighborhood to hang out, black chicano anglo drop-out boys taking turns at the classifieds left on the unsteady little orange disk stools grafted onto the tables like plastic school desks, reading the ads under miscellaneous employment and used cars from noon until suppertime. And the street girls after that, just waking up when the pavement’s cooling off, coming in for a couple of peanut-topped strawberry glazed creme-filled plain sugar and coffee to go, eating them out of the paper wraps, licking their fingers, waving little fannies in red sateen, hefty fannies in wide white hot pants at the winchell’s clientele on their way out the door.

Two Stories

The Lord Shantih found himself at the Temple of Rahla where the statues of the gods are kept. Pilgrims journey from distant lands to touch these statues, believing that one touch will cure them of their ills.

Readers Write

Living Alone

Happy bonded, I delight in the intricate synergy of two worlds as more than one, more than two. Depressed bonded, I feel the pulsing wish for one day’s journey as an unadulterated soul, without another’s needs for ego and supper.

Personal Stories By Our Readers ▸
Quotations

Sunbeams

What does “car” mean? A car in a showroom, a car heading straight toward me, a car needing constant repair, all have such isolated meanings that the name “car” cannot be said to stand for any one thing. That too is true of Scott or John or Gayle. God is in them only when God is in my mind. Only love can see steadily, consistently. Love makes one thing of all that it sees.

Hugh Prather
There is a Place Where You Are Not Alone

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