Little Gidding has been described as a “thin place” where there is only a slim veil between time and eternity.
My daughter Alex once put her bike out on our Brooklyn street for any stranger to take. She made a sign saying “Free bike! Please enjoy!” in purple crayon, adding a bold smiley face.
From the Christian esoteric tradition, a path beyond the mind
Previously unpublished commentary from Alan Watts, a pioneer of East-West spirituality.
A tale of snake handlers, faith healers, and speakers in tongues.
A conversation with Frankl’s grandson and a Frankl family champion.
King David, Leonard Cohen and the Search for Meaning
Every search begins in poverty. Something is needed. Something is lacking. But knowledge is too poor to know what, so a search also begins in not knowing.
On my college campus in the late Spring of 1970, I witnessed the events surrounding the deaths of four Kent State students from National Guardsmen’s bullets. Something changed in me.
Reconnecting to the sacred, from a Sufi teacher
The night before, Pancho Ramos Stierle heard about growing tensions in the community and thought, “If police are stepping up their violence, we need to go and step up our nonviolence.”
The student of seeing has to unlock the mystery first, Eckhart tells us, and it begins—here, now—with the question of who is seeing.
Rare wisdom on “how to see.”
Over 2,500 years ago, Peter Kingsley tells us, Parmenides and Empedocles laid the basic foundations for the world and culture we now live in.
A conversation with physicist Leo Piilonen
In the Fall of 2007, Parabola sat down with Nobel Peace Prize winner Wangari Maathai.
Parabola’s first issue, Winter 1976, included the magazine’s first interview. Conducted by then-editor John Loudon, it questioned religion scholar Huston Smith, author of the bestseller The Religions of Man, whom Loudon described as “a man who has traveled widely, but deeply, learning the many languages for what is primordially true.”
Every word I pick here | Is the wrong one, one | I’ve used too often, | Touched by thought | Until it’s worn and tired.
I don’t know why I was born | with this belief in something | deeper and larger than we can | see. […]
All it takes is one blue rowboat tied to a buoy,
and its reflection, and this moment
for me to go remembering everything. …
Stephanie Unger is a writer who lives in Buffalo, NY. She has studied poetry at workshops led by Martha Heyneman and others at the Rochester Folk Art Guild in the Finger Lakes Region of New York State.
Kuzunoha is a popular figure in Japanese folklore
Rafe Martin offers a retelling of a traditional Buddhist Jataka tale.
Mullah Nasr Eddin, or Hodja Nasr Eddin, is a legendary Turkish teller of tales, a sort of wise fool, to whom all sorts of exploits are attributed.
Today we have gathered and we see that the cycles of life continue. We have been given the duty to live in balance and harmony with each other and all living things. […]
Story Editor Betsy Cornwell looks at two essays from Parabola Magazine’s archives that explore the relationship between body and spirit
“Nonviolence isn’t just a philosophy of resistance. It is a way of life. Nonviolence is the thoughts we have, the words that we use, the clothes that we wear, the things that we say. It […]
Story editor Betsy Cornwell shares excerpts from Brother David Steindl-Rast’s essay “Learning to Die,” which appeared in the Winter 1977 issue of Parabola, “Death.”
Story Editor Betsy Cornwell reflects on the spiritual value of education in this new episode of Parabola’s free monthly podcast.
Jack Kerouac was a literary iconoclast in the mid-1950s, and sent the text above in a letter to his first wife, a decade after their marriage had been annulled.
Despite a growing awareness of the Divine Feminine, women remain ineligible to head many major religious groups and institutions […]
There are different kinds of realizations. They are not always lightening bolts but sometimes soft and slow, as if snow were quietly falling and settling.
Why not start the New Year granting ourselves the blessing of being forgiven—free of any trace of the wounds and limitations we are all trailing due to what we been through and what we did and left undone?
One Autumn day in 1976 a question appeared: if I took a photo of something I’d seen that touched my feelings, would the feeling return later when I looked at the print?
Can my inner work towards stillness and consciousness be reflected in images? Perhaps the moments of presence I, at times, experience can be extended outward to you, the viewer.
From the Photographer: I began to seriously consider a project about Lake View Cemetery shortly after I finished my book about Stan Hywet Hall and Gardens (Akron, Ohio), in 1999. Within walking distance of where […]
Brian first studied the history of photography and Black & White printing in 1985 with Teacher and Mentor William Abranowicz at Parsons New York City. …
Author Colin Wilson (1931–2013) was a lucky man in many ways. His luck continues after his death, with Gary Lachman’s biography Beyond the Robot, which is likely to be both the most comprehensive and the most favorable treatment Wilson will ever receive.
Indigo Animal is original, delightful, and profound. The artist, Rue Harrison, has given us wonderful characters in illustrated books in which she has raised the bar on a certain kind of content. […]
That a book on the Pyramid Texts of ancient Egypt has been favorably reviewed by the New Yorker is surely a sign of a significant cultural shift, but if you take the time to read this extraordinary book you will quickly see why. […]
The movement in my self from the mask to the face, from the personality to the person, from the performing actor to the ruler of the inner chamber, is the spiritual journey. […]
Από τη στιγμή που ιδρύθηκε, πενήντα χρόνια πριν, η κοινότητα του Bose ήταν προορισμένη να λειτουργήσει ως οδοδείκτης […]
Es difícil para la mayoría de nosotros creer que ambos ángeles y demonios se mezclan con los humanos en la Tierra […]
Era un lluvioso y helado atardecer de diciembre en Manhattan unos días antes de Navidad. Esperaba bajo una llovizna persistente el autobús de la Sexta Avenida para que nos llevara a mi y a mis […]