In My Own Way: An Autobiography

called “chilblains,” which are red and itchy swellings on the hands. As for the cooking, this subject has been

David Hunter, who was introduced to me by Hilde Elsberg, is one of the pioneers in a movement—originating from many different sources—that has come to be known by the awkward name of Sensory Awareness.

I. A. Richards, Mircea Eliade, Clyde Kluckhohn, or Jerome Bruner for

Lafcadio Hearn’s Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan.

Emerson, in his essay on “Self-Reliance”: These roses under my window make no reference to former roses or to better ones; they are for what they are; they exist with God today. There is no time for them. There is simply the rose; it is perfect in every moment of its existence But man postpones or remembers; he does not live in the present, but wit

“If you want to see into it, see into it directly. When you begin to think about it, it is altogether missed.”

“How could he possibly be a genuine mystic and be so addicted to nicotine and alcohol?” Or have occasional shudders of anxiety? Or be sexually interested in women? Or lack enthusiasm for physical exercise? Or have any need for money? Such people have in mind an idealized vision of the mystic as a person wholly free from fear and attachment, who see

called “The Psychology of Acceptance,” which I went on to expand into my first American book The Meaning of Happiness, subtitled “The Quest for Freedom of the Spirit in Modern Psychology and in the Wisdom of the East.” It must have been about

Nature, Man, and Woman, written during the summer of 1957.3 This must