Pax Nortona – A Blog by Joel Sax

When you cannot stop dreaming of a place, you have to go there.

while we have high winds running across the scalp of this hill all the time, they don’t generally go in circles.

I don’t know what to think should this become a regular part of our winter up here on the hill.

The Buddha taught the Golden Rule four hundred years before Christ lived.

I drove around Durham some, but until the day I left, there were corners of it that I never explored.

When I packed my things and Ms. Whine to move down the road to Chapel Hill, I knew that it would always be there, my perfect room, a memory of the honey I’d once tasted

“But I love you!,” she cried and I bought it.

Three days of enclosure started my heart to strum a dull, jabbing beat on my rib cage. My legs protested “We want to move!” Thus, I came to the moment when I knew I could not sit through another minute of that listless white noise.

It was an alien place for a California bred in the lands of aqueducts, tract houses, and earnest, frequent waterings of the front lawns….

How could a crew of nonviolent monks sleep knowing that their land produced warring cancer cells in the lungs?

Barbara Fletcher wrote about facing her first live roach. The occasion caused me to rhapsodize upon one of my own favorite roach horror stories.

The reasoning of the day seems to be: “Be glad that you live in a free country where you can say nice things about the president and not be arrested for it.”