“At the center of our being is a point of nothingness which is untouched by sin and by illusion, a point of pure truth, a point or spark which belongs entirely to God. It is like a pure diamond, blazing with the invisible light of heaven. It is in everybody, and if we could see it, we would see these billions of points of light coming together in the face and blaze of a sun that would make all the darkness and cruelty of life vanish completely ... I have no program for this seeing. It is only given. But the gate of heaven is every- where.”

― Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander

Surprising God, how does one surprise God?

I have heard the door or gate is not locked; it is always open.

Every day I think of Mike,
he told me about the river boat he was on,
the murky river water, many small boats alongside,
action all around. He was a sailor on a ship,
what the hell was he doing on a river boat,
he often asked, even now.
Can’t remember the name of the river,
but it was Nam…

You come home from war… you are different now.
No one seems to know that, “but glad your back bro,” they say. Yes, you are home, but then there is the addiction, not of killing but of forgetting.
The time comes to report, remembering one’s service, out in the woods, away from it all.
There is that standing at attention, hair and beard trimmed, at muster for the last time…
There was a strange silence afterwards,

How does one surprise God?
I have heard the door or gate is not locked; it is always open.

What will you do when the trains went by?  

It was a cold winter during the War
It was Germany and the trains kept going by
How did they know the box cars were full of people, stacked like bags of flour?
Going to their death? Screaming for help...
What can I say?

What would we do when the trains came by?
And heard what we thought were cries for help
Or the wheels rubbing against the cold metal tracks
One Church, by the tracks, in this small village, even planned the hymns during the times the trains went by near this sacred place; no one could hear the cries for help...

What about the trains that goes by for us these days
The person of color, the Muslim, the Hmong family down the block
The gay or lesbian teen that lives in fear of his or her classmates & parents and church, mosque or place of spiritual practice...

What are we doing when the trains go by?

What did you say, sugar?
I had only been in Oubari a week or so
Sent to the store for sugar
I was a bit nervous, not scared…
I had been to the local market in this village
High in the mountains of Hokkaido before,
Always with someone who knew some Japanese,
This time, I was alone…
I loved going into this market, it had everything you would ever need to
Live high in the mountains, in a closed down coal mining village
The smells of food, oil, machinery, everything was wonderful…
So I bought the sugar after a real search,
And some help, from a kind elderly man,
I took my sugar home, feeling real good about my venture
But, it was salt,
Do you understand everything, I sure don’t….

I looked at the half moon last night
It was crying, it had lost a friend
It might take years for those tears to get here,
They are on their way
The moon lost a buddy, Neil Armstrong.
The only human foot to touch its surface
The moon has lost a buddy today, and sheds tears
Tears, not only for the loss, but for the earth.
Imagine going through the cycle month after month
Year after year
And watching the earth in denial
Misinformed leaders or wannabe leaders
Destroying the earth for profit
Not caring for the poor, the sick, the imprisoned
The moon has lost a buddy, will she lose the earth?

by ko shin Bob Hanson