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The Sun Magazine

Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Another Appetite

Except for a few independent strands, her soft white hair is pulled back from one of the gentlest faces ever to smile through a window. Her dress is plain, as comfortable as her worn blue tennis shoes, yet feminine. Gypsy Hollingsworth is one of those women one might have seen traveling in a conestoga wagon during the nineteenth century: appearing as fragile as a dandelion puff-ball, yet as indomitable as the plant itself. The strong silent type, she is, with a girlish spark in eyes have seen 76 years.


A friend of mine once told me he doesn’t eat in natural foods restaurants because they “make staying healthy so damned unpleasant.” Well, I’m happy to say that the three natural foods restaurants in the Triangle area, Wildflower Kitchen in Chapel Hill, SomeThyme in Durham and Irregardless Cafe in Raleigh serve nutritional foods that are a treat instead of a treatment.

Zen Plums

The wild geese do not intend to cast their reflection
The water has no mind to receive their image.

— Zenrin Kushu

Temple Sweeper

Concentrated or prolonged stress may produce widely varying diseases. Considerable research is being done on this, underscoring the dynamic relationship between mental and physical events, rather than the traditional mind/body dualism.

A Secret Garden

Herbs you grow and dry yourself will be fresher, more flavorful, and give you greater satisfaction than store-bought ones. Even if you live in town and have no space for an outdoor garden, you can grow your own herb garden right in the kitchen.

Shadow Dancing

Healing has an infinite variety of forms. The only way to evaluate any single method is as a positive catalyst of change. Scientists “objectively” measure healing; empiricists “can tell” if it works. But the person being healed either feels better or doesn’t. The quintessence of healing is being well.

Chapel Hill Journal

Yes it really is a battle We struggle so to trade between us energies of love I had wanted to reach out and caress your heart but with hands of stone I couldn’t do it feeling weighted down And everywhere over the globe what war and pain cries skyward fly It is not we are not willing rather so weak and dumb Had we joined forces today had we joined palm to palm strength of equality justice and mercy had we transcended our own gross qualms I spent 15 minutes today choosing what pants to put on Who was waiting for me?

Chapel Hill Journal

A dark, heavy-blue February day pulled from me a sigh of quietened relief. So much artificial gyration had had its warrant sent out. Knowing itself to be a dead man, tracked straight to certainty, the ice block of conceit dropped itself dead in its tracks. What a beautiful sight! The love beast sang its own death song from out an already anguished mouth. And yes, the penetrating tone of the morbid howl was the one that burst an airtight catacomb. Now that the catacomb be banished such that no magic-claiming map may direct one thither . . .