Notes from Ground Zero

On a sunny August morning in 1945 the United States dropped an 18-kiloton atomic bomb on the city of Hiroshima immediately killing 100,000 thousand people.  Flowers were blooming, insects were bountiful and humanity was flourishing with a strong sense of spiritual fervor, each religious sect devout and fervent about their earthly notions of a higher power.

Shortly before 8:15 a.m. somewhere in the city:

A Shinto High Priest

was worshiping at the shrine of the Sun Goddess Amaterasu, Shinto’s most revered kami 

A Catholic Nun

was on her knees, clutching rosary beads, praying to a life-size statue of the Virgin Mary

A Buddhist Monk

was arduously reciting a mantra seeking favor from Amitabha Buddha, the Buddha of Infinite Light

A Rabbi

was wearing a Yakama during Shacharit, reciting devotional morning prays in Hebrew

A Vaishnavite Guru

was in a Puja, bowing to a bronze effigy of Brahma, the supreme god of all existence, believed to be eternal origin, the cause and foundation of all existence

At the precise moment of the bomb’s impact


had had their eyes closed in deep mediation when they were

i n s t a n t a n e o u s l y i n c i n e r a t e d

each disconnected from each other’s religious beliefs and lifestyles

each oblivious to the economic, scientific, political and military psychopaths

wiping their existence from the face of the earth

“I knew the Japs were in for it, but I felt no particular emotion about it,”
said William S. Parsons, the Navy Captain responsible for arming the “The Little Boy,” the cynical name given to the atom bomb dropped on the designated target.