Browse Topics
Vocation
On Nuclear War, Survival, And The Sun
When I bought my first SUN, I was just out of journalism school, a promising graduate who never had the nerve to tell her teacher she did not believe at all in a separation between the perceiver and the perceived. As an emerging news reporter I was in big trouble. The discovery of THE SUN was enough persuasion for me to drop any plans to be honored in the halls of Howell, at the University of North Carolina — the second-ranked journalism school in the country.
January 1984A Family Album
The Sun’s Tenth Anniversary
To mark THE SUN’s tenth anniversary, we sent postcards to everyone we could remember who had ever been involved with the magazine — at least everyone for whom we had an address — asking, “What are you doing now, and what does THE SUN mean, or what has it meant, to you?”
January 1984
Stealing Souls
Thoughts On Photography
I never took quite the same kind of photograph again. From that moment on I regarded the taking of a photograph as a personal act, as personal as the writing of a poem — deep and perilous, intellectual and beautiful.
March 1983Listening
An Interview With Paul Winter
Our animal nature is quite different from that of a wolf, say, in our habitats, our social interactions. But we do have deeply powerful instincts, just like a wolf, that we rarely get in touch with. Listening is the least utilized instinctual sense by our species in the civilized world. It’s the one which many spiritual teachers feel is the real path to enlightenment.
February 1983Changing Things
An Interview With David Spangler
We are completely and wholly unique and in a very special one-on-one relationship with the divine. If I can recognize that in my life, there may still be things I want to do, changes I want to make, growth I want to achieve, but I can do so companioned by this spirit of playful and compassionate lovingness. If I can find ways of extending that to others as God has offered it to me, then I’ve found a real gift.
October 1982Outfielder
Coggins walked through an afternoon fog as soft and gray-white as his own hair. He had walked a half mile or so nearly every day for twenty years — at first on the advice of a doctor who had repaired his heart, and then later because it became his deepest habit, and broke the day.
September 1982
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