It has been said that we will ultimately be measured not be the money we have earned, the businesses, careers, professions we have built, not by the cars we drive or the size of our homes or the honors and awards we have earned, or even by the number of friends we have or the respect and recognition we receive in our communities.
A decade of $100,000 grants changes the destiny of Valley nonprofits. Words Jonah Raskin If…
Editor’s Note: In our ongoing efforts to better understand the Novel Coronavirus, Valley of the Moon magazine staff sat down with a virus representative during a visit to an undisclosed Bay Area research laboratory with an electron scanning microscope and a 600-watt stereo amplifier. The conversation was complicated by technical challenges and interspecies language obstacles, but what follows is a faithful representation of what was said.
You may have noticed that Valley of the Moon magazine has been significantly less visible over the past two pandemic months, as our distribution channels were radically reduced by closure of the vast majority of the commercial outlets – about 180 of them – where we are normally available.
Since the coronavirus is too small to see without an electron microscope, our understanding of what it is and does is defined mostly by sets of constantly changing numbers. The data below was current as of Thursday, June 25, at which point five Sonoma County residents had died from the virus, with one death confirmed in Sonoma Valley.
Babaji is dressed in white, sitting comfortably cross-legged in the peaceful, pastel interior of his residence on the grounds of Sonoma Ashram.
Lisa Kristine is a world-famous photographer who has documented indigenous cultures in more than 100 countries and who uses her images and her voice to promote the end of human slavery. She has a gallery of her work on the Sonoma Plaza.
Hiring John Holden to heal you requires a certain suspension of disbelief. That’s because his menu of most common client maladies reads like a mash-up of cases from the Emergency Room, the DSM, Dear Abby, and maybe Judge Judy.
You probably can’t see it, but there is a transparent cone of silence, nestled invisibly over a four-acre parcel just off Arnold Drive on the west side of the Sonoma Valley, where tension and stress, fear of the future and worries about the past, even the inevitable intrusion of thoughts about presidential politics, simply evaporate.
There’s a glass orb in the center of Kristine Gorman’s tarot table that has absolutely nothing to do with tarot, or anything else, except perhaps a little atmosphere.