Lifestyles

If nonbelievers are doomed, Avishai Simantov suddenly thought one day, why aren't the Christians and Muslims dying? Could all secular Jews truly be sinners and thieves? Is the purpose of life to study the Torah all day, or might there be something else worthwhile? Simantov was a 16-year-old yeshiva student in Jerusalem when he posed these questions to his rabbi. The learned man told him to put his head down and study harder, that the Bible and Jewish law would provide his answers.

There was a day when Jan Lundberg was a master of the fossil fuel universe, living large in Los Angeles with his Mercedes, his yacht and his hired help. He compiled gas station surveys, including the respected Lundberg Letter, which his late father, Dan Lundberg, founded in 1955, earning a comfortable living while helping oil companies increase market share. But something was wrong. "L.A.," he says, "was killing me."

There's a signpost up ahead: 40th and Plumb. It is surrounded by miles of empty desert--no shade, no trees, not a structure in sight. It sums up its own location, 40 miles from nowhere, plumb in the sticks. Marty Pendleton, a 52-year-old vegetarian and former Angeleno in an Adidas running suit, and his wife, Jeannette, a petite blond with an interest in interior design, live down this dirt road that seems to stretch straight into the distant foothills.

Laura Cutler launched her new School of Sustainability last month with a party that attracted an overflow crowd of 400 to an Oakland auditorium for a program of guitar strumming, multicultural prayers and talks on living in harmony with the Earth.

Simplifying your life can be--simple. "There are lots of specific, practical tips for immediate relief," says expert Elaine St. James. For instance: * Learn to say no to anything you don't really want to do. * Drop call-waiting. "Wouldn't you love to have a conversation at home that wasn't interrupted?" * Leave shoes at the front door to avoid tracking in dirt. * Get rid of all but one or two credit cards to consolidate bills and reduce junk mail.

Like almost everyone she knows, Dianna Boundy believes in the righteousness of the digital revolution. Twelve hours a day, she's "jacked in." At work, she designs computer games and e-mails her colleagues just down the hall. At home she surfs the Web till midnight, balances her electronic checkbook and e-mails friends around the world. In between, there's her cellular phone and new car stereo--the one that purrs "hello" when she turns it on. She doesn't know Richard Murphy.

Yes, you have to bribe traffic cops. And no, you cannot find toilet paper. The museum guards scowl. The hotel sheets scratch. The food is sure to Spackle your arteries. But somehow, it's hard to be grumpy when you're touring Russia's Golden Ring. The nine ancient towns of the Golden Ring circle the countryside northeast of Moscow, strung out at distances that could be covered in a hard day's horseback ride.

Cowboy Neal Harp rode into this seaside town the other day on a horse named Blackfoot, flat broke and hunting for work. That's nothing new for the self-professed saddle tramp. For half a decade, the 43-year-old trucker-turned-trail rider has roamed the West, only tying up in one place long enough to scrape up the cash he needs for moseying on. He's not headed anywhere in particular.

Swami Prabhupada arrived in New York by freighter. It was 1965 and he was bent on introducing the United States to the ancient religious faith he had practiced since his birth in 1896 in Calcutta. He taught followers about Hare Krishna, the informal name for Gaudiya Vaishnava.

Saffron robes, shaved heads and prayer beads are still the classic symbols, but the Hare Krishnas are not the young zealots they used to be. When members commemorate the 30th anniversary of the movement in the United States this month, they are more likely to be gray-haired members dressed in business suits. Like its members--the baby boomers who were its earliest devotees in this country--the movement is maturing.