"Abandoned" is a religious thriller written in three parts, but as its author I also want to mention that it is a work of historical fiction. However, its description doesn't stop there because "Abandoned" is also one of the few novels in existence that has a NDE twist within it and as my daughter discovered there's even a love story tucked away inside its pages. Finally, wanting to be sure you know what I mean by a NDE twist, I am referring to a Near Death Experience.

Although you may think that with its 49 chapters it will take forever to finish, actually this is a small book that can be easily read in a few days. Yes, a couple of the chapters take longer to read but they're not insanely long. Please enjoy and leave a review. Before the book begins, here is a short book trailer. Thank you - Ronald E. Boutelle, Canyon Lake, Texas.

Blake reached for his bandanna to wipe the sweat trickling down the side of his face. When his radio had crackled with the message, he and the two soldiers came down from the top of the mountain as fast as humanly possible.

The other four members of his team were nearby but had gone inside by themselves. Blake didn't go, but fear of being attacked wasn't one of them. Surrounding them were 20 heavily armed North Vietnam soldiers protecting the five Americans.

When Blake spotted the crudely constructed object off to his left, he immediately knew what is was and what it meant. He was wrong on both counts. Blake may have been young but he certainly wasn't stupid. So how could he have been so wrong?

He squatted down beside the strange object and ran his hand over the wet rocks. It had been raining on and off all day. He was so excited to tell the others, he could hardly stand it. In the meantime it was only natural to pondered the events that had led him there in the first place. Yes, what he had just found was as plain as day ...or so he thought.

Abandoned - Part One

CHAPTER 1: The Saga Begins

"Actually, not to keep the secret of a king is perilous and a terrible risk, but to be silent about the works of God is a great loss for the soul." (Saint Sophronius)

"Sunday morning I sat down to read a couple of pages and couldn't put it down until I had finished it." (Avis Christoff)

High from her tree-top lookout the monkey was the first to notice the noise. Her baby clung even closer to her. Elsewhere, other monkeys moved nervously as they, too, peered through the jungle canopy.

Down below, the flutter of startled birds could be heard and on the ground the first man could be seen, at first just an odd movement through a patch of morning fog—swinging his machete—quickly moving forward. Behind him, the next man and the next one following him, and even the next one, all had that unmistakable look of North Vietnamese soldiers. Their AK-47s and uniforms made no attempt to hide their presence. Altogether the column of men making their way through the jungle numbered close to twenty. Five of them were Americans—more than one of them panting—trying to keep pace with the swinging machete.

As for retired army officer Jimmy Sutton, this image of the future would have been unthinkable years ago—totally unthinkable. But there were also the unmistakable connections between the past and the present that struck Sutton like a sledgehammer. First: the jungle; haunting memories of Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam. He'd been here before. His right shoulder still ached at times from the bullet that had hit him. "Probably," he thought, "shot by that soldier's father," who was just a few yards ahead of him. "Wouldn't that be one hell of an irony?"

You would think that after so much time his arm would have completely healed, but the bullet had hit the bone. No wonder it still ached. Especially in the damp. Especially in a damp jungle. More memories that were impossible to forget. Soon he would be struggling against other familiar foes—the relentless attack from millions of insects. Their only purpose in life seemed to be taking part in a gigantic, never-ending feast. These men were now the main course.

Altogether the soldiers made an intriguing sight. Were they going to war? After all most of the men were heavily armed.

No, this story takes place back in the 90s and America and North Vietnam have been at peace for many years. Still, they needed the guards because you never know what surprises a jungle has in store for you.

No, this was a kinder and gentler group of men making their way toward the mountain. Instead of sworn enemies, these men were officially cooperating with one another. Even so, they were still doing what soldiers do: searching for their dead.

POWs—MIAs—abbreviations that had quickly turned into words, almost too cute to describe Sutton's grim task. In fact, for a number of years North Vietnam had been assisting the United States in locating the hundreds of U.S. servicemen who had been swallowed by this vast and rugged county, never to be seen again. Of course, Uncle Sam knows they're out there—somewhere—but exactly where?

So this explains the reason for the column of men slowly making their way forward—frightening the monkeys. However, with some luck they would find it. But it would take a lot of luck—even if what they were looking for was almost as big as a football field. That's just about the size of a B-52.

image created with ChatGPT

Image created with ChatGPT

Image created with ChatGPT

For many good reasons America was looking for its dead but for Jimmy Sutton this mission was even more painful. Not just because he had fought here, but for other reasons. More secret reasons. Interrupted in thought by the sounds of the men up ahead he would have to come to grips with his feelings later. Now a swift stream brought the man with the machete to a standstill. All twenty men stood watching and wondering how they would get to the other side. Lt. Ngo assured everyone that they would find a way.

Sutton motioned for the interpreter. "Tell the Lieutenant that we're going to take fifteen while he sends the scouts out for a look—thanks."

"Hey Scott, let's have a smoke." Scott had been poured out of the same mold as Sutton: both retired military, both the same age, both professionals. But only Sutton carried the dirty little secret, or so he thought. He had been carefully hiding it since 1973. He looked at Scott removing his pack and felt the shame.

"Good idea, Major." Soon the other Americans were pulling out their cigarettes, except for the kid. Blake was selected as part of the team because back in the States he was considered one of the best mountain climbers alive and you've got to be young to climb mountains.

Blake had learned the art after the war; after his dad's F-4 Phantom had been hit over the North. His Navy jet never quite made it back to its carrier. The men felt bad that they weren't out there looking for him, but of course they couldn't. A tremendous splash in Blake's mind was all that was left to remember his father's final moments.

Regardless of their difference in age the rest of the American team felt good having Blake along. Besides the fact that they would need him on the mountain, he reminded the men of their own youth, of their own hopes and dreams that had, so long ago, been put to the greatest test of hide-and-seek that any teenager could ever play: jungle warfare. That's right, they had been so awfully young, not even twenty years old.

"Hey Blake, why don't you just climb that tree with your rope and we'll all swing across the stream like Tarzan?" Laughing at the thought, Blake said that he might have to if the scouts couldn't find a way to cross it.

"Major Sutton," Blake said, "we're really getting into some rugged terrain. What do you think it will be like up ahead?"

Pulling some photos from his pack, Sutton reached over and handed them to Blake. "Yeah, you're right about it getting tough. Take a look at that second photo. That was taken by one of our teams three years ago."

"Along the base of that mountain is where we're headed." Sutton rolled his cigar between his fingers.

Image created with ChatGPT

"The Air Force thinks we might find their B-52 somewhere over there but it's really just a guessing game. Before we came over here I got a briefing from General Samm but even he admitted that their intelligence on this bomber is almost non-existent. It seems that when the missile hit it, all of its communications equipment was knocked out and from the height it was flying, by the time it finally hit the ground it could have hurtled hundreds of miles in just about any direction."

Trying to find a comfortable spot on the ground, Major Sutton continued. "The only reason we're going to look there is because of some sketchy report they just picked up from a villager in Cambodia who was told by his elderly mother of a huge American plane. Supposedly his father had seen it headed in that direction when he was just a boy, digging tunnels for the Vietcong. He said he had heard it crash. I guess they feel the story is reliable enough for us to check it out. All I know is that this is one of the most remote areas in all of Southeast Asia."

"Looking at these photographs, Major Sutton, and looking at what's actually all around us, I'm really surprised at how out of sync they are."

"Welcome to Vietnam, kid." Pete laughed out loud.

Pete was the jokester of the bunch. Even the Marine Corps couldn't beat that out of him. He was the fourth member of the team. He carried the electronics.

They were all laughing now. Even the North Vietnamese soldiers began to laugh, although they had no idea what the Americans were talking about.

"I'll tell you what, Blake," Pete said, "Once, after the war when I was in Central America looking for traces of an ancient Mayan city rumored to be in the jungle, we were given some aerial photographs to follow and I never got so damn lost in my entire life. They had to send out the Honduran Army to find us!"

Again all the men were laughing when one of the scouts returned. Lt. Ngo walked over to Sutton. The interpreter said they had found a fallen tree that could be used to cross over to the other side. This was good news and within twenty minutes the column of men once again began making its way toward the mountain.

Two more arduous days and mosquito infested nights passed before another morning greeted the tired men; a new day; a new adventure that promised to reveal what each had come such a long way to find. The greatest relief was that after breakfast the tents could be left pitched since Sutton had decided to establish their present location as their base camp. With the mountain firmly planted beside them, from there the men could break out into teams.

For the next several days everyone would systematically search for any signs of the missing bomber. At least, this was the plan. Blake and two of the younger soldiers would explore the mountains. There was a lot of territory to cover.

Tracy was the fifth and final member of the American search party. He had spent two tours in Vietnam with the Army's elite SOG unit that operated out of Kontum.

At the end of his second tour his best friend, SFC Jerry (Mad Dog) Shriver was killed during a fierce battle. That was in April of 1969. This legend of a man had survived an unheard of 40 missions deep behind enemy lines.

SFC Jerry (Mad Dog) Shriver
(created with ChatGPT)

The pencil pushers at Shining Brass all knew that the men who made up their SOG units seldom survived beyond 20 missions. Anyhow, Tracy had his reasons for coming back to Vietnam. But revenge wasn't one of them. When Mad Dog disappeared during the battle his body was never recovered and some of the men thought he might have been captured. Add to the facts that Mad Dog had saved Tracy's life more than once—yes, he had his reasons.

Sutton, Scott, Pete and Tracy—each had lost friends in Vietnam and you couldn't help but respect them for what they were doing. They didn't have to volunteer for any of this. But no—they wanted to. They desperately wanted to. A good soldier never leaves his fallen comrades behind and with a chance to correct the past they were eager for this new day. It wasn't until two days later, however, that Lady Luck smiled upon them.

And it doesn't really matter who spotted the massive object first because Tracy and Pete were both there when it was found. Actually, it was one of the North Vietnamese soldiers who saw the thing first, quickly yelling for the two Americans to come look. Hacking their way through the dense undergrowth to a small clearing, they stood looking at it—a moment in time they would never forget for as long as they lived.

Image created with ChatGPT

Since they had agreed to contact the entire team before investigating any major artifacts, using his portable radio to reach Sutton and the others, Pete told them what they had found. The Vietnamese came, too, and within an hour everyone stood in complete silence looking at the unbelievable sight resting on the jungle floor.

"What do you think Major—is it our B-52?"

"It sure looks like it Blake. Now that everyone's here, let's take a closer look."

The jungle had covered parts of the downed bomber while other parts of the aircraft were clearly visible. "My God, just look at that thing—sitting here after all these years."

Professional soldiers that they were, the North Vietnamese spread out to secure the perimeter, leaving the Americans to honor their dead. Lt. Ngo remained with the interpreter at a respectable distance, slowly smoking a cigarette as he watched the drama unfold before him.

The enormous jet was in surprisingly good shape—at least what was left of it. Sutton knew that he had found his bomber. American aircraft parts were scattered everywhere.

Of course they had to see what was inside and Tracy was the first to inch his way into the small opening, careful not to cut himself on any of the jagged metal that guarded the entrance. Then it was the Major who slowly disappeared. Scott was next, followed by Pete. Suddenly Sutton stopped dead in his tracks, drawing his .357 from its holster—snake! Outside, Blake could see a slithering object off to his right, obviously disturbed by the approaching men.

Image created with ChatGPT

Chapter 2 – The Signal

Blake had decided on his own to stay out of the bomber for now—respectful of the other men who had fought so bravely and who were now doing their nation’s most honored work. While the other men were inside, Blake decided to circumambulate the bomber, careful not to trip on anything. Parts of the aircraft was near a steep cliff. A ruptured tire looked like it had been tossed on the ground—shattered debris was everywhere and extreme care had to be taken as he worked his way around the fallen aircraft.

As Blake reached the other side his mind became flooded with questions. He wondered about the crew and what had happened to them. Little did he know that his life was about to change forever.

One official record that the United States Air Force was positive about was the number of men that had been on the B-52 before it was shot down. That fact was for certain: six men. Inside its now battered hull, the six bodies were indeed found. Not a pleasant sight for even the most hardened of soldiers. But there was no doubt about it. Their flight suits were there; their shattered bones were there; their dog tags were there. All six. Nobody was missing. Heavy hearts fell over the four men inside the bomber. A half hour of silence would pass before any of them would emerge from the fallen bomber. Lt. Ngo reached for another cigarette.

It was then on the left side of the fuselage, near the cliff, that Blake spotted the mysterious shape. Oddly, the pile of rocks looked familiar but not something that he was expecting to see on the jungle floor. Not here. It caught him by surprise.

“Wow! I chanced upon this narration that held me
spellbound for 2 solid hours!” (Jack Lim)

image created by Grok Ai

He could only guess that one of the Americans from the bomber had survived the crash. Had he left this crude signal for them to find? But what was he trying to say? Blake wondered.

Bending over for a closer look he then noticed something under the top rock. Carefully lifting it, he removed a piece of crumbling paper that had been wrapped years ago in a small plastic bag. Though fragile, the paper flag had sort of survived and later the next morning Sutton would take a picture of it. It was one of those small waterproof-survival flags, the kind that the military issued to their troops during the war. It was now beginning to make a little sense to him. Obviously, somebody had survived the crash. This was the proof.

photo by: Derrick Goode
(used with permission)

Hearing something behind him, Blake turned around and saw Major Sutton making his way out of the bomber. Slowly approaching and looking very tired, Sutton said, “They’re all in there, son. We found them: Krishnaall six. From the looks of their crushed skeletons I’m certain that they died instantly. It’s a pretty nasty sight. They never got out of their seat belts.”

Blake could sense the deep sorrow that the Major felt but he was also becoming very confused. The two men stood looking at each other as they were joined by the other three Americans.

“Major Sutton, I found something over here that doesn’t make any sense.” He then handed the Major the American flag. “I found it under this rock—over here.” The five men gathered around the pile of rocks while Blake placed the flag back where he had found it. He even placed the rock back on top of it. “What do you think Jim,” Scott asked?

“I think it’s a signal,” Blake blurted out.

“But how is that possible, Blake? We found everyone. There is no way any of them were alive—go look for yourself.” He felt bad he had said that last part.

Sutton could be seen making a tight fist. He bent over and removed the flag from under the rock. “Pete, I’ve got an idea. Pull out the metal detector while we clear away these rocks. Give me a hand Blake. Just throw them over there.”

Within minutes Pete had his White’s metal detector ready to go and everyone stood back. Turned on after the long journey, the machine came to life—its fresh batteries eager to go to work. From a strategic vantage point Lt. Ngo sat spellbound, trying to figure out what the Americans were up to. Rain began to fall. He looked at his watch. Time was running out.

On the very first pass across the jungle floor, the metal detector yelped—letting out its unmistakable chatter. Several more times it filled the jungle with its alarming sound. The soldiers tightened their grips on their automatic weapons. The monkeys sat staring, as if in a trance.

“Tracy, give me the shovel.” Quickly digging through the wet soil, the clanking sound of a buried object could be heard. Lt. Ngo strained to get a better look.

“What are the Americans doing?”

Now fingers replaced the shovel—finally grasping and then pulling the buried object to the earth’s surface. Within such a short period of time more than two decades seemed to have fallen within their midst. First the lost bomber and now this strange object.

image created by the author using Grok Ai

A crack of lightening startled everyone, forcing everyone to jump in fright.

“I think it’s a tube of some sort, Major. Maybe from the plane.” Sutton held the muddy object in his hand. Shaking it gently. Something inside rattled.

As the men gathered closer together the rain began coming down even harder. It was almost four in the afternoon. Twisting the ends of the tube with considerable might the cap finally gave way.

“Blake, cover me with a poncho so that whatever comes out won’t get all wet. Scott, over here, hold your hands out. Mine are all muddy.”

Tilting the tube at a 45-degree angle, four dog tags slid into Scott’s hands. Reaching in with his fingers, he then withdrew a thick sheath of papers wrapped in cloth and plastic. “That’s everything Major.”

Trying to look at everyone at the same time, Sutton straightened his back and said, “Men, I want to get to the bottom of this just as fast as the rest of you. But we’re a good hour’s hike back to our camp and we’ve got a squall blowing down on us. It’s going to take even longer to get back, now—and we’ve still got dinner to cook. If it’s OK with you, let’s put this stuff back in the tube and the first thing in the morning, after I get a chance to look it over, I’ll give you a full report. Is this OK with everyone?”

Everyone nodded—sensing the storm’s approaching fury. Motioning to Lt. Ngo to get his men ready to head out, again the column of men could be heard from the jungle tops making their way back to the base of the mountain. The wet monkeys clung to their trees, ever vigilant of the intruders below.

photo by: Khairul Rizal
(used with permission)

Chapter 3 – The Dirty Little Secret

“I am writing to let you know that I was fascinated with your book. I love to read stories of the Vietnam War. Your book was very complete. I congratulate you once again.” (Virginia Gomez)

It was inside Sutton’s olive-green tent that the dirty little secret finally made its escape, repeatedly tormenting his weary soul. Huge rain drops could be heard splashing on the canvas roof above him, leftovers from the violent storm. The jungle night was awash in sound.

Sitting next to his lamp the Major stared at the four metal dog tags, reflecting light from the lantern. The saddest thing was that they didn’t just represent four missing soldiers. No—they meant a hell of a lot more than that and he knew it—a hell of a lot more.

Lighting another cigar, Sutton drifted into thought. His eyes were open but he was looking at something else. Something so deep inside him that it carried his mind to a different time and place—right to where the dirty little secret took its horrible birth.

(Years earlier)…

“Lt. Sutton, you have a phone call on line one. It’s Col. Johnson’s office at the Pentagon.”

“Thank you Sergeant.”

Like most of the nasty things in Washington they start with a phone call. This was no exception.

Sutton had two hours to make it over to the Pentagon for the meeting. He couldn’t help wondering what it was all about. If he hurried he could stop and grab an early lunch. Taking a sip of hot coffee he looked at the morning headlines, “Vietcong Attack.” The newspaper was dated March 23, 1973.

The Pentagon
(Public Domain)

“Yes sir, down the hall to your left, room four.”

“Thank you.”

Taking a seat, Sutton looked around. Others were entering the room. Sutton then saw Col. Johnson, along with his aide, Capt. Marjory Ott. Besides two men from the CIA who Sutton knew well, everyone else was military. Rising to attention as the Colonel walked over to the podium, everyone readied themselves. Nobody was quite sure why they were there.

“Gentlemen, thank you for being here on such short notice. I have an announcement to make. This comes straight from the President. In exactly five days from now on March 28th, America is pulling its troops out of Vietnam. Once this is done, America will officially end its military involvement in Vietnam. Are there any questions?”

At precisely that moment, the dirty little secret reared its ugly little head; inside room number four; in the east wing of the Pentagon; the room with the nice view. It was just after one o’clock in the afternoon.

“Yes Sir, I have a question.”

The speed at which Sutton had come out of his seat surprised even himself. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

“But Colonel, what about our insertion teams? We’ve still got men along the Ho Chi Minh Trail. There won’t be enough time to get everyone out.

His question quickly turned into a nasty confrontation. In fact, over the next forty-five minutes the entire room was nothing but a loud argument—a real balancing act when you’re just a young lieutenant and the person you’re arguing with is a full-bird colonel. But to Col. Johnson’s credit he let the men speak their mind. But it didn’t change the facts. History now confirms this.

“How are they getting out? Doesn’t the President know about our men? Of course he has to know. You don’t mean that we’re just going to leave them behind, do you?”

Sutton lifted the cigar to his mouth. He had dropped the flaps on his tent a long time ago. The rain drops were still striking loud. Picking up the sheath of papers lying next to the dog tags, he began to read.

Chapter Four - The Letter

“Congratulations Ron. The book is magnificent. Thanks so much for including my photo and for the credit. I hope you get tons of readers.” (Godoirum Bassanensis)

Whoever finds this letter, please forward it to my wife: Eleni Fotis, 742 East Conrad, Minneapolis, Minnesota. U.S.A. My name is Nickolas Fotis. Enclosed with this letter are four dog tags. Three of them are from members of my unit who were killed in action. The forth one is mine. These dog tags will direct you to our military records.

To my dearest Eleni; my beloved wife and best friend. My greatest hope is that long before you even see this letter I will have held you in my arms and explained in person everything that has happened to me. This I pray with every ounce of my heart.

Of course our little Maria—she must be almost 3—has also warmed my soul these past-many months. When I thought I was a goner, it was the memory of both of you—and my love for you that kept me going.

Actually, my darling, I am giving myself several days to write this letter. I will make a copy of it and carry it with me forever. The other copy I am going to hide near the remains of a B-52 that I stumbled upon yesterday.

But first, my love, let me start at the beginning. Let’s see, that would be on February 10th when I arrived in Saigon. From there I made it to Kontum. Although my team was supposed to be inserted on February 3rd, poor weather and some other problems kept us grounded until February 28th. The team we were replacing had made it out OK but our untimely delay meant that I-Force would be without any eyes in G-sector for three weeks.

Altogether, ten of us were inserted near Laos. We had six Nung mercenaries with us and our mission was to establish surveillance positions to monitor enemy traffic along the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

image created by Grok Ai

image created by Grok Ai

My team was inserted into our LZ by helicopter without incident. This time I was on loan to an Army outfit and not with my regular SOG unit. Although things were a lot looser in terms of what we took with us, such as our dog tags, all and all the change of pace was something that I was looking forward to.

Sweetheart, all I know is that seven weeks later—this was the last time I heard from anybody. It was as if the war had simply disappeared. Nothing on our radios made any sense. Everything went dead. All we could do was sit and wait—and listen. We had no idea what was happening.

As for right now I’m not sure how long it has been. I just know that it has been a long time. I think well over a year.

But back to the beginning. Our helicopter placed us on the ground about 15 miles from our first post—closer to Laos. Traveling only at night to avoid any contact with the VC, it took us nearly 30 hours to reach our first destination.

image created by the author using Grok Ai

After getting Sgt. Pierce’s position established, we traveled north. The rest of our team took their respective places, with my position finally making our line complete—probably covering a total of 40 miles. My post was the furthest north, not far from where we were to be picked up.

Since we were to stay deployed for over a month, I know that all of us not only kept an eye out for VC but also on our calendars. I know that the phone call we had planned on April 7th was always on my mind.

During our deployment, other than a few encrypted radio transmissions, radio silence was strictly enforced. At first there was very little to report. Only toward the end did I see any appreciable activity. On March 20th a large force of enemy troops passed by in full combat dress. Of course, this was a significant sighting. After this, until I left my observation post, VC traffic never let up.

Because our radio contact with Kontum was extremely limited, my last transmission with I-Force was on the 22nd. Mostly some prearranged signals. There was absolutely nothing to alarm me. The LZ for our extraction was our final goal, and each of us was to arrive there on our own. Our helicopter was scheduled to pick us up on March 29th.

This gives you some idea of our time table. But before leaving Laos I had several long weeks to observe enemy traffic.

What happened next, Eleni, I guess you could say is a soldier’s greatest nightmare. Everyone made it to our LZ, but for the next five days we waited in vain for our helicopter to pick us up. Besides this, nothing on our radios made any sense. Like I told you, it was as if the war had just disappeared. All we could figure was that our frequencies had been changed and that the helicopter that was to pick us up had been shot down.

But one thing hadn’t changed—the war. There were enemy troops everywhere. In fact, six days later we were attacked. Three of the men near me were killed when a rocket exploded on top of them. It just barely missed me but I was well hidden. You know my friend, Carl. He was one of them—such a fearless soldier.

The attack scattered the rest of our team and I guess it became a matter of every man for himself. I never did see any of the others again. I don’t know where they are. It could be that I was the last one alive. I’m just not sure.

After awhile the jungle grew quiet. Although this wouldn’t have been the case had I been with my SOG team, because the army insisted that we wear them, I was able to get the dog tags off the dead men. Since night was fast approaching, I inched myself along on my belly as far away from there as I could get.

For days on end all I know is that I tried my best to keep alive, heading instinctively deeper into the rugged mountains of Laos. That was my only goal. But over time I started to get confused. I had nothing really to eat and I began to get sick. I was completely lost. The terrain was unbelievably rough. My memory is vague from this point on.

Well, there is one thing I do remember. I clearly recall dreaming about the story that Maria liked hearing so much. You know the one. I am writing it down now in the hopes that if someone finds this, Maria can hear it one more time. Since it saved me once, maybe it will save me again.

In honor of my friend Carl who was killed in Vietnam
(next to the soldier on the far right)

Once upon a time ago there was a little scarlet fish who lived in a small pond full of green lily pads and big fat fish.

Although the fat fish mostly stayed under the lily pads and slept, the little scarlet fish loved to explore the pond he lived in.

One day at the far end of the pond the little fish noticed an iron grate. Swimming up to it he couldn’t help but wonder what was on the other side. He also wondered if the guppies knew about it.

Eleni, I guess I wanted to write the story down to help give me courage and remind me of God’s mercy—and it has. I am completely ready for whatever happens next.

Like I said, I was in grave danger. I remember dreaming about the little scarlet fish in the belly of the large fish. Since I was in just as much peril I began to pray for help. Now it all makes sense. Remembering Father Ambrose who told me to pray when I last saw him, over and over again I kept praying, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner”—and I was saved!

image created by Leonardo Ai

Fully of curiosity, he swam over to the first fat fish and pleaded to tell him all about the grate and what was on the other side. But the fat fish didn’t want to be bothered: ”Go away. Can’t you see that I’m sleeping? Don’t bother me!”

Sadly, this was the same response the little scarlet fish got out of everyone he asked. He was very sad.

Finally swimming back to the grate, the little fish thought to himself that if no one would tell him what was on the other side, then he would just have to find out for himself.

Soon he had a plan. Comparing the spacing’s in the grate to the size of his own body, he just knew that a couple of days of not eating and maybe a few scraped scales, that he would be able to make it through to the other side.

And sure enough, on the third day he found himself on the other side of the grate. He was so excited he never even thought to look back as he swam away.

What happened next was the beginning of the greatest adventure, ever. First, the shallow stream that the scarlet fish found itself in turned into a much bigger stream, and that eventually emptied into a large river. The water was much deeper and he felt safe.

Once in the river the little fish began to see things that he never imagined possible. He saw the bottom of boats—all sorts of fish that he didn’t even know existed—piers, and so much more. Then one day the river’s current took the scarlet fish out into the ocean. You can just imagine how the little fish must have felt. Besides the big ocean waves, he saw starfish, jellyfish, seaweed and even a school of seahorses. The little scarlet fish was thrilled beyond words.

But then something terrible happened to the little fish. Somehow he was swimming in water that was much too shallow—maybe a low tide—and suddenly a large fish appeared out of nowhere with its mouth wide opened. No matter how hard the little scarlet fish tried to swim away he couldn’t escape. With hundreds of other small fish, down into the fish’s stomach he went.

image created by Leonardo Ai

Suddenly it became very dark. Now very much afraid, the scarlet fish knew that there was only one thing to do—something he had learned from his mother. Immediately he began to pray to the Creator of all fish for help.

And then, just like that, all at once the big fish let out a huge hiccup and instantly the little scarlet fish was free. Again he prayed, but this time he thanked the Creator for answering his prayers.

After this happened the little fish began to think of all the fat guppies back in the fish pond. He became very sad, thinking of the wonderful things that they were missing out on. He just knew that he had to go back and tell them. That was love.

With great determination and purpose the little scarlet fish now began his long journey home. From the ocean he swam back into the river and past all the piers and boats. Eventually he came to the smaller river, which led to the stream that he had first entered. And sure enough, the iron grate was still there. But this time, because of all his hard swimming and how much weight he had lost, the little fish easily passed through the grate without losing even a single scale.

image created by ChatGPT Ai

Not taking a moment to rest, immediately the little scarlet fish swam over to the first guppy he saw and said, “Oh, please excuse me, but I have something wonderful to tell you.”

But instead of listening to what the scarlet fish had to say, the guppy became very angry. “Go away. Can’t you see that I am sleeping? I don’t want to be bothered. Go away!”

Even worse, each of the fat guppies that the little fish tried to talk to said the same thing. Not a single guppy would listen.

Feeling great sorrow in his heart, the little scarlet fish swam over to the iron grate and passed through to the other side. This time he did look back but with a tear in his eye he swam off toward the deep river where he felt safe.

Back at the lily pond, in the middle of a hot summer’s drought, the pond dried up.

image created by ChatGPT Ai

image created by ChatGPT Ai

Chapter Five - Laos 1973

“Being a Vietnam veteran myself and having been a helicopter (UH-1D) crew chief while there, this story refreshes many memories when my crew and I shuttled soldiers into various LZs (landing zones) that were sometimes “HOT” (infested with enemy combatants). We were under heavy fire in the Hue area of South Vietnam (3 miles south of the DMZ), but sometimes under cover of darkness, without lights, flying low along the treetops in an erratic flight-path (to avoid detection), we navigated to a destination across the border into Cambodia, Laos or North Vietnam. Our mission was to insert a LRRP unit (Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol) just like the war hero that this story is about. Often we later deliberated on whatever had happened to that LRRP team that we had dropped off a week ago? Because those types of missions were classified top secret we never knew the results of their retrieval or capture. Your skill at story-telling is very expert. As you have seen, even for one who was there, the circumstances which stitched this work of fiction into a very believable and convincing reality were well-placed in a timeline that perfectly fits the backdrop of real-current events of that time. You wove it into a very exciting journey from darkness to light! Despite my having read the introductory portion at the start of your story, the emotion of the developments of the story were so intriguing that my mind was drawn into the experience of the adventure itself. That’s a tribute to your expertise; congratulations! Again, I cannot thank you enough for helping me to rectify my personal Vietnam experience through the auspices of your book’s story-line.” (Louis S. Bernier, Jr.)

Suryavarman removed the lid from the brass pot, careful not to let the escaping steam burn his fingers. Perfect—the saffron color and rich aroma was exactly what he wanted. Because Suryavarman was well into his seventies, he could have easily had one of the younger men cook the rice. Any one of them would have been honored to help their spiritual master but that never even crossed his mind because cooking rice for the Lord was something that Surya looked forward to each and every morning.

Suryavarman (Surya)
Image created by ChatGPT

It was an especially nice morning. The light rain from the previous day had vanished. Greens were vivid in varying hues with patches of browns and yellows. Splashes of sun filtered down through the jungle canopy, playing hide-and-seek with a host of intricate shadows. The most beautiful times of day—early morning and evening—filtered the sun’s overwhelming grandeur.

Surya felt at peace. His fingers slowly rocked against his wooden beads.

The jungle permeated with the sound of birds. Incense from the morning offering floated through the air. The smell was wonderful. A bell was ringing. A piece of fruit was being offered to a small Deity of Lord Vishnu. If you were close enough, Surya’s ancient prayers could be heard: “Hare Krishna Hare Krishna Krishna Krishna Hare Hare • Hare Rama Hare Rama Rama Rama Hare Hare.” In less than an hour one of the more pleasant weekly rituals would begin.

The assembled men with their empty water jugs were not in any rush. They prayed as they walked, thanking God for all they had. Above them, in the trees, the monkeys were silent as the monks made their way to the spring. Sometimes the men would pause. They realized that the beauty around them was but a spark of God’s splendor. Wherever Surya looked he saw God’s handiwork at play.

Rama was the youngest member of this tribe of reclusive monks. Although he was born in Cambodia, his ancestors were from India and he was named after the great Indian King, Lord Ramachandra. Rama’s mother had died a few months after his third birthday.

On this particular day Rama had not gone with the other monks for water. Instead, he was needed in the monastery’s small infirmary. Nitai had been bitten by a poisonous snake and was near death. The stone walls of the cave cooled the area where his semi-conscious friend was laboring to breathe. Rama adjusted a small pillow under his neck. He felt his forehead. Sensing the fever, Rama used a wet rag to cool his body. This seemed to help and Nitai drifted to sleep.

Image created by ChatGPT

Removing his wooden beads from a small sack, Rama sat down and closed his eyes. He pictured his spiritual master, Suryavarman, and mentally paid his obeisances. His attention turned to God, and Rama asked the Lord to save his friend. Rama felt at peace. His fingers pressed against his beads. He chanted clearly, hoping his unconscious friend would hear the sacred sounds.

An hour later Rama stood up and walked outside. He needed to pick some vegetables for the noon meal. His small garden consisted of various kinds of squash with some peppers, carrots, sweet potatoes, beans and cabbage. These were things that blended well with rice, which was the main staple at the monastery. Every month, rice from a distant village was obtained.

Each of the monks worked in the garden, growing various staples and together they produced more than enough food for everyone’s needs. Reaching down to pull a weed, Rama thought of his father’s garden back in Cambodia. His mind brought to life the magical ruins where he played as a child: Angkor Wat.

Image created using ChatGPT

With permission, ChatGPT image inspired by a photograph by: Charles Pieters

Actually, Cambodia was once a much more civil place to live. Trade between China and the Funan (the early inhabitants of Cambodia) had flourished for at least a thousand years. But it wasn’t the Chinese or even the Funan who influenced Cambodia the most. No, etched in stone, the actual builders of Angkor Wat had clearly left their inspiration for all to see. Placing a few vegetables in a basket, Rama thought about his friend back at the infirmary. Rama had been right next to him when the small snake had attacked. They had been picking berries for their Deity.

Since Nitai had always liked soup, Rama began gathering a few carrots. Hopefully his friend would be able to eat when he woke up. Once again Rama’s mind drifted back to Cambodia.

He thought about his grandmother, Sita. After his mother had died she had raised him like her own son. Although there were many wonderful things to remember about his childhood, the hint of civil war that later swept through Cambodia made those thoughts more difficult.

So many innocent people suffered because of the war that even their Gods could not stop. Before the war, the gradual struggle between the forces of Lon Nol and the Khmer Rouge became a great concern for everyone. Later called, “The Killing Fields,” this was more than an appropriate name to describe the genocide that eventually swept through Cambodia. A one-legged guerrilla leader by the name of Ta Mok, who later became known as “The Butcher,” was one of many dangers that worried all the parents. Fearing this very thing, one of the last things that Rama’s father (Ajita) did to protect his son was to send him to Laos. Rama was fourteen years old at the time.

ChatGPT image of The Butcher

It was only natural that Rama had not wanted to leave his home but his father had lovingly explained to his son why he had to go. Ajita's childhood teacher, Suryavarman, had established a small monastery in Laos. There, one of the oldest Deities from Angkor Wat could be worshiped without fearing the soldiers. Some of the locals claimed the Deity had come from India centuries ago when all the temples were being built. Obviously it was very old and now the Deity was safe in Laos—worshiped and loved by all. Ajita and Suryavarman were two of the few remaining men in Angkor Wat who still practiced the ancient traditions brought to Cambodia from India. By the middle of the fourteenth century Buddhism had become more popular. But history is like that: wars, upheaval and religious changes have repeatedly swept over the world, and so it was at Angkor Wat in the 20th century—only a few men and women still in touch with the original spirit of Cambodia—a religious movement that had been so instrumental in carving the stone wonders that has made Angkor Wat such a special place.

Back at the monastery Rama sat in front of the Deity offering the soup he had prepared for Nitai. There was a lot on his mind. Seeing Nitai on the brink of death had brought a certain gravity to the morning that Rama could not escape.

image created with ChatGPT

Again he thought about his father, grandmother, and the rest of his family back in Cambodia. He wondered if they were still alive. It had been a number of years since he had seen them. Once again his mind drifted back to the ruins of Angkor Wat.

image created with ChatGPT: inspired by a photo by: Colin Payne,
(with permission)

Angkor Wat was the greatest place on earth for a young boy to explore—an archaeological wonderland. Nearby, villagers boasted that it was the largest religious monument in existence. Besides its most famous temple, with its 215 foot central tower, other temples such as Ta Keo (which was dedicated to Lord Shiva), Bayon, Phnom Bakhend, Prasat Kravanh and more than sixty other major structures dotted the countryside.

As a boy, one of Rama's favorite places to play was near the southern entrance of the Angkor Thom temple, not far from the village where he lived. There, among the stone statues, Rama's young mind would try to comprehend the meaning of the Hindu gods carved in stone. To make it even more confusing for him, some of the fanatical Buddhists even doubted India's role in building Angkor Wat in the first place. But the evidence against such child-like thinking is overwhelming.

Most obvious, there are the statues and wall reliefs of the demons and demigods churning an ocean of milk. Unfortunately for the tourist who visit Angkor Wat today, the official story is just a crude sketch of what the ancient builders were actually immortalizing in stone. Some visitors laugh, even asking if they were attempting to make butter.

Churning the Ocean of Milk
(demigods pulling a large snake wrapped around a mountain: via ChatGPT

Although the passing of time has obscured the true meaning of the statues, fortunately there are the holy scriptures. The world has been blessed by many such scriptures and one of the oldest is found in India. This great classic is called the, Shrimad-Bhagavatam and can be translated as, The Beautiful Stories of the Lord. Written in a series of cantos—located in the first part of the eighth canto—this great Indian classic describes in detail the story of, The Churning of the Ocean of Milk. So how can anyone refute the origin of AngkorWat's history?

The sudden shrill from a jungle parrot brought Rama to his senses.

Granted, this story has been lost for most of the world, but Rama knew it well. His thoughts pierced back into time—sitting as a small boy overlooking the ruins of Angkor Wat—listening to his father explain to him the mysteries that surrounded them. He enjoyed those memories. He remembered being captivated for hours as his father taught him about Lord Vishnu and the great struggles and triumphs between the demons and the demigods.

Rama had an entire lifetime ahead of him to reminisce about his childhood. Indeed, the ruins of Angkor Wat would always be etched in his mind. But sadness was there, too. The separation he felt for his family back in Cambodia was difficult to dismiss, even for an aspiring monk who was well aware of the virtues of detachment.

Pouring some water, Rama placed a blackened pot over a small flame, adding the vegetables he had just picked. He also added some white beans. In a few hours he would try to coax Nitai into eating again. Suryavarman had suggested this earlier and had given Rama some special herbs to add to the vegetables. Yellow turmeric is known to purify the blood. Sitting next to the small flame, Rama's fingers slowly rocked against his wooden beads.

Approaching the cool spring, Surya and the other monks couldn't help but notice a couple of vultures circling overhead. Understanding God's ways, Surya guessed that probably a tiger had killed something and now these scavengers of the air were gathering for their share. Looking toward the far end where the water became very shallow, one of the monks spotted whatever it was that the large birds had found so interesting. Surya motioned to take a closer look. Their drinking water had to be kept fresh and the monks worked hard to remove anything that would contaminate it. Their very survival demanded their constant vigilance.

Image created with ChatGPT

But what the young monk discovered when he went to investigate was not what he had expected to find—obviously a soldier of some sort, by the clothing and boots. Startled, the monks gathered around the lifeless form. Even though Vietnam was not that far away, this remote part of Laos was not an area visited by soldiers. Suryavarman bent down and noticed that the soldier was not breathing. An American! How odd. How did he get there? But then the most peculiar thing happened. All at once the soldier took an enormous breath of air, greatly startling everyone who had been convinced that they had discovered a corpse. Quickly assessing the man's condition, Surya could tell that time was of the essence. Looking at the bank extending upward, the monks could understand the great fall he had taken. The severe gash on the man's forehead was another reason that Surya was encouraging everyone to move as quickly as possible.

After a difficult journey back to the monastery, the American soldier was gently placed on a straw mat. Next to him, Nitai was still drifting in and out of consciousness. The American was completely unconscious. Life at the monastery suddenly took on a different mood. Life and death situations always focus one's attention and this was no different for the monks who now had two gravely-ill men to care for.

Nor could Rama and the other disciples help but notice how their spiritual master did everything in his power to save the life of this young man. Surya's personal concern and attention for both men was clear to everyone. Rama felt proud to be Surya's disciple.

Nick spent most of the next week unconscious. Lying next to him, Nitai gradually regained both his health and wit. By week's end he was well enough to leave the infirmary. As for Rama, caring for the injured American now became something that occupied his every deed. Of course he was thankful for Nitai's recovery and whenever he prayed, Rama thanked God for sparing his friend's life. Now he asked God to do the same for the American.

Image created with ChatGPT

Chapter Six - The Ocean of Milk

“I checked out your book, Abandoned. Very cool! You must have put a lot of work into that thing: great photos, great text, and extremely unique. I especially like the writings you had in Abandoned on love.” (Alexander Kon Berner)

Major Sutton was acutely aware of just who Nickolas Fotis was. He couldn’t read any further. He needed a drink. He needed a cigar. He needed another drink. He needed to come to grips, once and for all, with the dirty little secret that had been gnawing away at him for over two decades.

Yeah, he knew Nick. In fact, Sutton was the one who brought Nickolas into “Shining Brass” in the first place.

Sutton’s office had recruited all of their SOG units (Studies and Observations Group). But when the war had unexpectedly ended on that dreadful day in 1973, a handful of Sutton’s brave young men were simply left behind to somehow fend for themselves. Furthermore, “Shining Brass” wasn’t the only SOG mission operating in Vietnam. “Heavy Green” was very active. Then again, the C.I.A. was involved in inserting other teams of Americans.

Altogether some have estimated that as many as fifty G.I.s were simply abandoned. It's hard to say for sure because these missions were highly sensitive. So much so that sometimes before being inserted, the Americans would be sterilized, in the sense that they would officially get out of the Army and then go back into Vietnam as civilians, thus rendered completely free of any military identity. Plus they never carried any type of identification papers, and even their weapons and clothing were so generic that if captured, the VC would never know who they were.

Being killed in action, at least Sutton could cope with that, but to just abandon his men, he never signed-off on that. He thought that surely the President had known about these brave men. If he didn’t, then others close to him certainly knew what was going on. Over the years Sutton could only guess that the Commander-In-Chief had been advised that after America’s swift withdrawal from Vietnam that these men would simply be captured and returned home; just as our other POWs were destined to be released. That had to be it. But when that didn’t occur he could only guess what had happened to his men; soldiers who had trusted him with their lives; trusted that Sutton would get them back on American soil. Some of the men had wives and children. Now he was about to find out what had happened to at least one of them. The name on that dog tag was no mystery to him.

Yes, Sutton knew who Nick was. Sipping his whiskey, he thought about the day Nick had come to his office with Eleni. Sutton held his cigar between his teeth and bit down. He remembered Eleni’s raven black hair and her charming smile. Sutton also remembered her deep concern for her husband. No wonder she was so worried; she was four months pregnant.

Of course, she was never told the whole truth. None of the wives were. And as far as Uncle Sam was concerned, he had a great way out. Three little letters—MIA. There: a whole bunch of problems solved at once. Picking the letter back up, the Major continued to read.

Image created with ChatGPT

“What I am now going to tell you, Eleni, can only be described as Divine Intervention.

My prayers, asking God for His mercy, were answered. What happened next will show you that there is no doubt He heard me. I had asked Him to save me and He did.

Eleni, when I finally came to, at first I thought I was in a church or something. I was so confused. My leg and my head were both throbbing–especially my head. Then I heard a little bell ringing off in the distance, along with the most wonderful aroma. I had been saved by a group of monks who live in an enormous cave located in a remote corner of Laos. They had turned their cave into a beautiful monastery.

A young man by the name of Rama took care of me until I was able to move around on my own. Soon we became very good friends. He even spoke a few words of English and was quick to learn more. Rama told me that when he was a boy, he had left Cambodia to live at the monastery.

Actually, all of the monks had come from Cambodia. The only person at the monastery who speaks English fluently is Suryavarman. I’ll tell you about him in a moment.

As I mentioned, Eleni, it was the smell of this really wonderful incense that woke me up. Also a little bell that I kept hearing. Since my leg was broken, it must have been close to two months before I was able to really move around on my own. “Eleni, where do I begin? Even now, looking back and trying to write about it I realize that so much time has gone by.”

“Thank you for the cup of water. By the way, Rama, I am really impressed at how much your English has improved. You have such a good memory.”

“Thank you but all the credit goes to you, my good English teacher. Nickolas, I am so happy that you are feeling better. Later we will help you outside. You can watch me work in my garden.”

“I’d like that very much. By the way, I heard the bell again this morning. It rings often. I like it. It reminds me of my church. Rama, do you know anything about my religion?”

“Only a little, Nick, but Surya knows Jesus. As soon as your strength returns and your thoughts clear you can talk to him. Does your head still hurt?”

“Not as much—thank you. The pain seems to be pretty much a thing of the past. Only sometimes at night. And yes, I’d like to talk to him. In my church back in America our priest, Father Ambrose, uses a bell in his services, too. He also burns incense. Yours smells different but it’s very pleasant. But tell me Rama, why does the little bell ring so often?”

“Around the corner, over there, is where our Deity lives and whenever our meals are prepared, before we eat, we first offer our food to Lord Vishnu.”

“Who is Vishnu? Aren’t you a Buddhist monk?”

“Oh no,” Rama said, laughing. “Soon you will feel better and Surya wants to talk to you. He is very smart and will answer all your questions.”

“How do you pronounce his name, again?”

“Suryavarman—Sur-ya-VAR-mon.”

Back at the monastery, two months have passed after finding Nick

Image created with ChatGPT

“Thank you, Rama. Does his name mean anything?”

“When I was in school, Nickolas, I was taught about a powerful king who built Angkor Wat. Suryavarman II was a great leader who ruled during the first half of the 12th century and my father told me that Suryavarman was named after him.”

After talking for awhile, another monk entered the room and handed Rama some salve for Nick’s forehead. He was feeling tired. Saying thank you, a few minutes later Nick laid back down as Rama turned around and went outside. His eyes growing heavy, Nickolas soon drifted to sleep; questions about Vishnu, Buddha and Christ waiting to be answered. It would be a couple of hours before he woke up.

Reaching for a weed in his vegetable garden, Rama thought about the American’s question. Again his mind took him back to Angkor Wat. Lord Vishnu was everywhere. That was because Angkor Wat had been built to honor Lord Vishnu and generations of early Cambodians had worshiped Him as God—long before all the Buddhist came.

Rama recalled the day he had asked his father the meaning of the stone statues. Some of the older boys had told him that Vishnu was churning an ocean of milk. You can imagine how such a statement would play within a child’s mind. Later that morning Rama asked his father (Ajita) where the ocean of milk was, so he could go see it.

ChatGPT rendition of Churning the Ocean of Milk from a photo at Angkor Wat taken by: Chris Cotton (used with permission)

Ajita took his son by his hand and led him to the front of the temple and up a stone stairway. After finding a place to sit they both looked down at the destruction below. The Phimeanakas Temple was slowly being ravaged by the marching armies of both Father Time and Mother Nature. Smiling warmly at his son, Rama’s father began to speak.

image by ChatGPT

“Rama, it is only natural to wonder about the stories that these statues are telling. The Churning of the Ocean of Milk is one of the greatest.”

Rubbing his son’s head, Ajita continued. “Rama, this place is called Phimeanakas and was my favorite place to play when I was a small boy. I brought you here because this is the exact spot where I first heard the story from my father. Now I will tell it to you.

“Rama, you know how soldiers come here every now and then, looking for the bad men. In the heavens there are also good and bad men. A long time ago, these divine beings were fighting each other. The good men were called demigods. The bad men were called demons. Both the demigods and the demons were fierce warriors.

“Even though the demigods were very strong, they were being defeated by the demons. Besides being defeated on the battlefield they had become weakened in other ways.”

“What do you mean, father?”

“Son, one of the most powerful mystics in heaven is Durvasa Muni.One day, Durvasa Muni presented his sacred flower garland to Indra, the King of Heaven and a chief among the demigods.

But sadly, those who possess great power sometimes become puffed up with pride and forget how to act with humility. When King Indra received the garland, instead of offering gratitude or reverence to the sage, he casually placed it on the tusk of his elephant. The elephant, unaware of the garland’s sanctity, soon trampled it underfoot.

The demigods burst into laughter.

Witnessing this disrespect, Durvasa Muni was overcome with anger. The garland was not merely a decoration—it was imbued with spiritual potency and offered in devotion. Offended by the arrogance of Indra and the mockery of the demigods, Durvasa Muni pronounced a curse upon them for their pride and lack of respect.

In that moment, the balance between power and humility was shattered—and the consequences would soon follow.

In this way the demigods were in a very precarious position, having been defeated both in battle and now, in spirit.

“Rama, you are probably wondering why the demigods, who are suppose to be righteous, acted in such a bad way. In fact, son, when you learn other stories about Lord Vishnu you will see that the demigods made other mistakes. Even so, although the demigods are not perfect, the most important thing that sets them apart from the demons is that they never forget God. Ultimately, whenever they find themselves in great danger, the demigods turn to Him for protection.

“Now I am going to tell you about someone who is very important and who played a vital role in the churning of the Ocean of Milk. At the dawn of creation, the first person that Lord Vishnu created was Brahma. Because he was the first, Lord Brahma is also the most famous and honored demigod. So naturally, when the demigods realized how the demons were about to destroy them, they went to Brahma and explained to him what was happening.

image by ChatGPT

After hearing about their plight, Brahma began to pray to his Father. He then gathered together all the demigods and along with Shiva took them to the Ocean of Milk. Do you understand the story so far?”

“Yes father, but who is Shiva?”

“Rama, soon you will learn about Lord Shiva. He is a very powerful god.”

“What happened next, father?”

“In the middle of the Ocean of Milk is an island where Lord Vishnu lives. Standing on the shore and looking toward the island, Brahma started to recite many wonderful prayers to his father. In all, Brahma offered the Lord 24 prayers. At the end of the last prayer—so brilliant that at first the demigods couldn’t even see Him—Lord Vishnu appeared before them.”

“Rama, you and I can only see the stone statues of Lord Vishnu but what the demigods saw in person was much more wonderful. The Lord was dressed in yellow garments and His entire body was attractively decorated. They saw His beautiful smile and earrings, and His head crowned by a helmet bedecked with valuable jewels. Around His waist He wore a belt. They saw bangles on His arms, a necklace, and ankle bells. He also wore a beautiful flower garland and carried His personal weapons—His disc and club.”

Lord Brahma: image by ChatGPT

Lord Vishnu: image by ChatGPT

After pausing for a few moments, Ajita continued.

“Gazing upon the beautiful form of his Father, Brahma and the others immediately fell to the ground. Then the Lord spoke in a voice that sounded like deep thunder. He told the demigods that they needed to make a truce with the demons for the specific purpose of churning the Ocean of Milk. Doing so would produce a delicious nectar and whoever drank it would become immortal.

“But the Lord also said that at first the ocean would produce many other things, including a deadly poison. However, the Lord assured the demigods and told them not to fear. Later when the demigods approached the king of the demons—Bali Maharaja—about establishing a truce and making the nectar, the demons falsely agreed. Actually, the demons planned to steal the nectar from the demigods as soon as it was produced, giving them all immortal life and certain victory over their eternal enemies.

“Soon after making this agreement, both the demons and the demigods worked very hard. Together with their mystical powers they uprooted the mountain—named, Mandara—that was made of solid gold. They were going to use the mountain to stir the Ocean of Milk. But because the mountain was so heavy, Lord Vishnu had to help them carry it to the ocean. This was an easy task for the all-powerful Lord. He carried the mountain on His shoulder.

“Then Garuda, the huge bird that carries the Lord on his back, removed the golden mountain from the Lord’s shoulder and placed it in the ocean.

“In order to spin the mountain and churn the Ocean of Milk, the demons and the demigods asked Vasuki—the Snake King—to wrap himself around the mountain. With the demons pulling Vasuki from one end and the demigods pulling the snake from the other end, their plan was to churn the ocean and make the eternal nectar. They promised Vasuki some of the divine potion if he would help them.

image by ChatGPT

“Unfortunately, because the mountain was so heavy, as they started to churn the Ocean of Milk, it immediately sank. Not to fear, when this happened Lord Vishnu turned himself into a huge tortoise and on his back, lifted the mountain to the surface. The rotating motion of the mountain felt wonderful on His hard shell—exactly like the pleasure one gets when someone scratches your back.”

Rama smiled as he remembered how his father then reached out and scratched his back.

His father continued. “When the demons and demigods saw the mountain, again they began to work very hard. Even the Lord helped. The snake, however, being pulled back and forth so quickly, started to breathe out smoke and fire which soon made the demons and demigods very sick. Once again Lord Vishnu came to the rescue, this time in the form of a huge rain storm which cleared the air.

“Continuing their hard work, still they could not churn the ocean fast enough. Seeing this, Lord Vishnu grabbed the snake with His strong arms and churned the ocean so fast that all the fish came to the surface.

“Then the deadly poison that the Lord had mentioned suddenly appeared.”

Looking at his son, Ajita reminded him of his earlier question about Shiva.

“When this happened, Lord Vishnu and the demigods went to see Lord Shiva. After offering him nice prayers they told him about the deadly poison. Shiva turned to his wife, Bhavani, and reminded her about the glories of acting benevolent to relieve the suffering of others. Thus speaking, Shiva asked his wife to let him drink the poison in order to save everyone. Bhavani agreed and with his mystical powers, Shiva condensed all the poison into the palm of his hand and began to drink. Although the poison was very deadly, the only effect on Lord Shiva was a blue line that appeared on his neck.

image by ChatGPT

“One of the first things that the ocean produced was a Surabhi cow, whose milk, yogurt, ghee, dung and urine are used by the sages in ritualistic ceremonies.

“Next, a beautiful white horse appeared. Bali Maharaja took the horse for his own.

“Then many elephants were produced by the churning. Also a very beautiful gem appeared out of the ocean. Lord Vishnu took it and hung it around His neck. The demons and demigods then saw parijata flowers float to the surface of the milk. These flowers are used to decorate the celestial planets.

“After the flowers appeared, many beautiful women were produced.”

Looking at his son, Ajita said, “Rama, remember the stone carvings of the Apsaras—the beautiful damsel that we looked at last week?”

“Yes Father, I remember looking at them with you.”

“Some of those are the heavenly damsels that came out of the Ocean of Milk. Then, right after the Apsaras were produced, another beautiful woman appeared. Her name is Lakshmi.”

“She is the Goddess of Fortune and the embodiment of beauty, grace and charm. Upon seeing her unique beauty, the King of Heaven, Lord Indra, offered her a jeweled-covered seat. The sacred rivers in their human forms brought her pure water and golden pots. The earth, personified, brought her many herbs. Everyone worshiped her including the elephants, clouds and sages. Flowers, jewels, beautiful clothing, ornaments, earrings, and other nice things were given to her.

“Lakshmi then looked around for a suitable husband. Unable to find one among the demons and demigods, she turned to Lord Vishnu and accepted Him as her husband. She placed a garland of fresh lotus flowers on the Lord’s shoulders. Bumblebees looking for honey surrounded the flower garland. When the demigods saw the Lord accept Lakshmi as His wife, beautiful music and dancing greeted the Divine couple. From the heavens above, flowers showered down upon them and they could hear wonderful prayers.

“With the poison no longer a threat to the demons and the demigods, once again they took up the task of churning the Ocean of Milk. It was then that many wonderful things began to magically appear.

image by ChatGPT
(19th century illustration, artist unknown; public domain)

“Unable to attract Lakshmi for their own pleasure, the demons became very agitated. Then out of the churning milk appeared the goddess, Varuni, who is sought after by those attached to strong drink and intoxication. The King of the Demons took the young girl. This made them very happy.

“Still churning the Ocean of Milk with great fury—Lord Vishnu—in the form of a young man suddenly appeared and was very strong, young, and handsome. In His hands He carried a large jug filled to the top with the nectar of eternal life. However, even though He was very strong, by the will of Providence the demons were able to steal the jug.

“When the demigods saw this disaster, again they turned to God for help. Always protecting those who approach Him, the Supreme Lord entered the hearts of the demons and made them argue amongst themselves as to who would take the first drink. Because of the fierce argument that ensued, none of them tasted the nectar. During the height of their fighting the Lord transformed Himself into His incarnation of a woman. Her name was Mohini and because of her incomparable beauty she captivated the demons who became like soft clay in her hands.

“With her smiles and shyness, She set into motion a colossal trick to take back the jug of nectar and give it to the demigods.

“Desiring Mohini’s favor, the demons asked her to settle their argument. She consented and the demons gave her the nectar, allowing her to disperse it however she saw fit.

“After fasting and other rituals, Mohini had the demons and demigods sit in separate rows across from each other. First she approached the demons, offering them only her sweet words. She then appeared before the demigods and gave them the nectar.

“One of the demons, who was called Rahu, spotted the trick and disguised himself as a demigod. Sitting with them, he had just barely taken a sip of the nectar when the sun and moon gods revealed Rahu’s true identity. Quickly, Mohini used Her disc and severed Rahu’s head from the rest of his body.

image by ChatGPT

image of Mohini is created by ChatGPT

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“However, because the nectar had touched Rahu’s lips, although his body lay dead on the floor, his head remained alive. Brahma then took Rahu’s head and turned it into the planet that causes both the sun and the moon to eclipse.

“Now, my son, you know the story told by these stone statues.”

“Thank you for telling me the story father. Now I can tell it to my friends.”

“But don’t forget—there is a great lesson to be learned from this story. You see, both the demons and the demigods had desired the nectar but only the demigods succeeded in obtaining it. Despite their foolish actions, their folly never left them completely blind. Whenever trouble rears its ugly head they always turn to the Lord for help. The demons, however, were cheated out of their share. The Lord only blesses those who take shelter of Him. The demons hate God. They never take shelter of Him because they deny His superiority. Therefore, the demons were thwarted in their attempts to steal the pot of nectar.

“Rama, I have told you what my father said to me and now you can see that all around us these statues are telling us the story of the Ocean of Milk.”

Vandalized Statues: Pulling Vasuki, the Divine Snake
photo by: Kevin King (used with permission)

Photo of heavenly Apsaras by: Kent Davis (used with permission)

Chapter 7 – Father Mikalson

“I was introduced to this book by the author. It’s not often I find a book, or person, that is open to the beauty of the Source, in whatever form it takes. The book is well-written. It’s an inspiration to all seekers of any religion. Thank you, Ron!” (Judi Dawson Miles)

Please note: several times in this chapter the story jumps back and forth through time. First there is Nickolas and his story. Then years later in present time there is Major Sutton reading the letter that Nick had written to his wife.

For the first time since arriving at the monastery Nick was feeling much better. His head had finally stopped throbbing and each day he was putting more weight on his injured leg. Waking one morning, one of the monks had left a pair of handmade crutches near his bed. Admiring the workmanship, he was more than a little eager to try them out.

For breakfast Rama brought Nick some fresh fruit. Later that afternoon he was going to have lunch with Suryavarman, who had now returned from the village that supplied the monks with their rice. Their village elder and a dear friend was dying and Surya had promised to be with him when that day arrived. Naturally Nick was anxious to thank Suryavarman for saving his life. These strange men had ignited in him so many questions. Who was Vishnu? Nick had heard of Buddha but he had never heard of Lord Vishnu. Nick thought that Buddhism was the only religion found in Southeast Asia. Vietnam was full of Buddhist temples.

Although Nick had now been with the monks for nearly three months, because Suryavarman had been away, he hadn’t spoken to Nickolas while he slowly recuperated from his severe wounds. But now that the injured American was better and Suryavarman had returned, his disciples were preparing a nice feast for their guest of honor. Surya also had a comfortable seat prepared so that Nick would be able to rest easy during their meeting. Lunch was going to be served under a large tree just outside their cave’s entrance.

Of course all of the young men wanted to be there and everyone felt welcomed. This is what they liked about Surya—in the most charming way, each man genuinely felt that Surya was their best friend and this innocent intimacy is what filled them with such a profound joy. As the hour approached it was only natural that together all the monks helped each other with the various chores so that they could all be there, undaunted by their complete lack of English.

With the help of two men, Nick felt the support of their strong hands under his arms as they gently lowered him onto his seat. Nick felt embarrassed as Surya placed a flower garland around his neck.

image created with ChatGPT

Pulling a cigar from its leather case, Major Sutton could hardly believe what he was reading. Adjusting the pillow under his head, Sutton was eager to find out more.

“Eleni, eventually I reached the point where my health returned to normal and my injuries no were no longer such a grave concern. Every morning I was invited to take a walk with the religious leader who found me. He is an elderly monk who I’ve grown to love very much. Everyday I worked in a small garden and spent a lot of time praying. In the late afternoon we would meet again for dinner and inevitably we would talk about God, our different religions, and the value of prayer.”

Trying to regain his composure, Nick thanked Suryavarman for the flower garland.

“You are most welcome Nickolas. We are honored that you are now able to join us.” At that moment one of the monks brought the two men some hot tea. Nick could smell the delicate aroma of the jasmine and said thank you.

Once again Nick became aware of his many questions; especially what had happened to him at the bottom of the ravine where they found him and also, their strange religion, but before he could talk Surya started to speak.

“When we first found you, the little metal signs that you wear around your neck were outside your shirt. I took the liberty to read what they said and noticed that they mentioned your religion is Greek Orthodox.”

Nick replied, “Yes Sir, my grandfather came to America from Greece, long ago. Although in America you will find many churches, Greek Orthodox is not found in great numbers. Both my mother and father are very good Christians and raised me in the Orthodox tradition, and at one time I even considered becoming a priest but my father insisted that I join the Army. During WWII many American soldiers died trying to save our country. My father wanted me to help repay America, just as he had as a young man when he had fought the Germans in Italy.”

Looking at Suryavarman, Nick couldn’t help but notice how divine the old man appeared. There was a holiness about him that Nick felt drawn to. He felt that he could tell him anything.

Surya again began to speak. “Many years ago I was living in Cambodia.” Suryavarman pointed to its general direction with his right hand.

“My home is located in a place called, Angkor Wat. One day, some men from Europe came to Cambodia to look at our temples. Their leader was Bernard Groslier.

“He had many assistants with him and one of the men was a Greek Orthodox priest. His name was Father Mikalson. He was both a brilliant and gentle soul who had come to Angkor Wat to discover the religious meanings of the statues that Mr. Groslier had told him about. For over a year Father Mikalson stayed with my family. Besides greatly improving my use of the English language, I learned much from him.”

image created with ChatGPT

Major Sutton continued to read: “Eleni, you remember how I almost became a priest before I joined the Army. Yes, that was a long time ago. Although I had never forgotten God—this war—Vietnam—just the anger and the nature of this place was turning me into a different person. I admit that I was not the same Christian that I used to be.

“For reasons that I now think about every day, my life has dramatically changed for the better. Eleni, I can only credit your prayers and the prayers of my family and friends to explain what has happened. Not only did God save me from the very clutches of death, He has continued blessing me in the most remarkable way.”

As Nick sat listening, Surya continued to speak: "One of the most wonderful things that Father Mikalson spoke about was a deep realization he once had."

Taking a sip of tea and full of curiosity, Nick waited for Suryavarman to continue.

"What Father Mikalson told me brought God into my own life, in such a meaningful way. It is something I've never forgotten and follow everyday. We all do."

Surya looked at his disciples and they smiled back at him. He said a few words that Nick could not understand. The monks all smiled.

"As you have noticed, these men have been kind enough to stay here with me. Together we live in peace and everyday we dive deeply into the holy waters of prayer, devotional service, and the mutual company of each other that we each venerate so dearly.

"I remember when I heard Father Mikalson speak, the truth of his words immediately came alive within my heart. The Father said that his realization had to do with the teachings of Jesus Christ when the Lord said: Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.

"The Father said that as children, every person has a natural, interior love for themselves. We all do. No one is more dear to us. What this means is that first and foremost we think of our own satisfaction. Of course we quickly mature and equally profound is the love we have for our immediate family. Our mother and father, and our brothers and sisters are the first people we meet, and this is why we naturally love our family as much as we love ourselves.

"Father Mikalson explained that the meaning of what Jesus taught is to look upon everyone we meet in the same loving way that we look upon our family. In other words, to love everyone as deeply as we love ourselves.

"Practically speaking, the Father said that living like this would change the entire world and fill it with love. But he also told me that the full meaning of what Jesus taught could be easily missed. Father Mikalson said that before his realization, even though he was trying to be a good Christian and thought he understood what Jesus was saying, that he, too, had not fully understood. It took a very special event to bring him to that grace."

At that moment one of the monks came forward with bowls of rice and a type of bean soup, placing a big scoop of each on their plates. Another monk served them some flat-round bread and something that looked like relish. Surya said a few kind words to the young men, who immediately broke out in a big smile. Nick couldn't help to smile also and said thank you. The aroma was absolutely wonderful. Surya motioned for Nick to eat. The exotic flavors of the food were far beyond delicious.

Once again Suryavarman began to speak. "Father Mikalson told me that one day he was on his way to meet a family whose daughter was very ill. On his way to the hospital he was on a busy street and off to the side of the road he noticed a carriage that had broke down. Gathered around a broken wheel was a young man and his wife, holding her two children with each hand. They looked confused and afraid. But as it turned out, everyone was so busy with their morning affairs that the traffic drove right past them and because of his appointment the Father did the same. He just automatically thought that someone else would stop and help them. Many hours later when he passed by the spot on his way home, he noticed that the carriage was no longer there.

image created with ChatGPT

He further went on to say that the memory of that poor family standing beside the broken wheel plagued him for days. He said that his guilt was enormous and he became depressed. After great anguish the truth of what he had misunderstood suddenly came to him. He said it was so profound that it changed his life forever.

"The Father told me that he suddenly realized that if he had recognized the man and woman standing by the carriage to be his own mother and father, that in an instant he would have turned around. Of course he would have—regardless of wherever he had to be. Any of us would do the same. Father Mikalson said that if those people had been his grandparents, or even his best friend, or a fellow priest, he would have also stopped."

A big smile lit up Nick's face as he sat listening. Syura continued to speak.

"After all—the good Father told me, neighbors do not necessarily mean neighbors or loved ones who we already know. That kind of thinking changes what Jesus is saying: Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.

"No, regardless of who they are or from what part of town they live; or from what country they come from; or how well we know them—or don't know them—if we are living our life according to the teachings of Jesus Christ, then no matter who we meet, just imagine the loving way we would treat them!

"This very message is found in our Scriptures, too, Nickolas." Suryavarman picked up a small book that was next to him

"Nickolas, this is called the Bhagavad-gita and is spoken by Lord Krishna." Surya opened the book and found the place he was looking for and looked up. "Yes, it is right here that Lord Krishna says that the person who has the kind of love that Father Mikalson is speaking about, ...sees with equal vision a priest, a cow, a dog, and a dog eater.

Feeling a little awkward, Nick folded his hand and said, "I'm sorry. What do you mean by a dog eater? I'm not sure I understand the comparison."

Surya chuckled. "Yes, as an American I can understand how this might sound strange to you. A dog eater is a person who eats dogs, as they do in many countries in this part of the world. As Father Mikalson and I discussed, in many cultures that person would be looked down upon as the lowest form of human being. But Lord Krishna is saying, that whoever we see—even the lowest and most sinful, or even an animal—that we should look at them with the same love. The Lord says that this is the proper vision to have.We should see the same life-force in all creatures and realize our eternal kinship with everyone we meet. Lifting his eyes from the pages of the Bhagavad-gita, Surya looked at Nick and said, "Just as all of us here are vegetarians, Father Mikalson was also a strict vegetarian. He said that he liked this verse very much. He appreciated the way Lord Krishna encouraged this equal vision to extend even to the animal kingdom. As you know, Nickolas, Saint Francis also championed kindness to animals and in the Christian church, many of its saints were vegetarians."

Looking with fondness at Suryavarman, Nick began to speak. "Thank you very much for that story. Yes, Saint Francis would never harm an animal. This is something that none of us should ever forget. He was always kind to the animals and birds, and even became friends with a ferocious wolf."

Turning to look at Rama who was sitting just off to his left, Nick then looked back at Surya and said, "If I may, I want all of you to know how much I thank Rama for taking care of me. He is a wonderful friend. All of you are and because of everyone I am on the road to recovery and able to sit here this afternoon. Thank you so much."

Rama began to blush and smiled back at Nick. Again Nick smiled as he looked at Surya.

"One of the first things I remember after waking up from my injuries was that little bell. Eventually I asked Rama about it and he said that whenever something is cooked, it is first offered to Lord Vishnu to enjoy. I asked Rama who Lord Vishnu was but he said I should ask you. And just now you have mentioned Krishna. So as you can imagine that I have many questions."

"If I may, I want all of you to know how much I thank Rama for taking care of me. He is a wonderful friend. All of you are and because of everyone I am on the road to recovery and able to sit here this afternoon. Thank you so much."

Rama began to blush and smiled back at Nick. Again Nick smiled as he looked at Surya.

Thanking Nick, Suryavarman looked at all the men sitting under the shade of the large tree. A small bird sat still as if he was waiting for Surya to speak.

image created with ChatGPT

image created with ChatGPT

After saying a few words to the monks, he turned to Nickolas and continued. "Let me answer your question this way: After telling me about the carriage that had broken down and how he realized that he had completely missed the whole point of what Jesus was saying, Father Mikalson told me that several days later an even deeper understanding came to him—which is directly related to the First Commandment: Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.

"With new determination, Father Mikalson told me how he began seeing people in an entirely different light. He said that yes, his love for everyone was much greater, and that being kind toward his neighbor took on a new meaning. Then one night after praying for many hours, just as he was falling asleep, the Father sat right up in bed as if he had been touched by an angel. Perhaps he had been."

Surya began to laugh and even though the monks sitting around the two men didn't understand what they were saying, seeing their spiritual master so happy, they all began laughing as well.

"Nickolas, I want to tell you what Father Mikalson then said—and this has had such a wonderful impact on my own life. He said that he realized—that besides embracing strangers as members of his own family—that he should actually look upon them as none other than God. After all, as Father Mikalson said, how do we know? Do any of us really know who we are actually talking to when we meet a stranger—or anyone else for that matter?"

Off to the left another bird landed on a limb.

photo by: Nishant Sharma
(with permission)

Taking Nick's hand, Surya looked at him and said, "My son, Father Mikalson mentioned how even in the Holy Bible God changes His appearance. As an example of this the Father told me how after Jesus rose from the tomb he changed his form. I remember how he read to me from his Bible: "Later that day he appeared to two of his disciples who were walking from Jerusalem into the country, but they didn't recognize him because he had changed his appearance."

"Father Mikalson told me that after this realization he just began practicing on everyone he met. In other words, he would just pretend, but in a very sincere and spiritual way, that whoever he met, he simply assumed that the person was actually God in disguise. Father Mikalson said that as long as he didn't forget to do this, everyone became most dear and delightful to him. He told me that instead of his days being flavored with the usual day-to-day activities that had consumed his life up to that point, that suddenly each and every moment became surcharged with a holiness that never left him; always feeling the presence of God in those he met. He would laugh and say that if people would just practice this, then when they finally did meet God they would know exactly how to act."

image created with ChatGPT

After the plates had been removed, more tea was served and Nick was amazed at how happy he felt. Suryavarman began to speak. "I will never forget Father Mikalson and the wonderful things he taught me about seeing God in everyone. He was a man full of amazing curiosity.

"Nickolas, one of the most remarkable sights in Angkor Wat are the many statues and carvings depicting the demons and demigods churning the Ocean of Milk. Father Mikalson was very curious about this.

"Of course, Father Mikalson wanted me to tell him this story and in doing so, naturally he asked me about Lord Vishnu, because Vishnu is mentioned throughout this story."

Surya cleared his throat. "Nickolas, let me begin by telling you this: The nature of God is a great mystery. All religions proclaim that God is great. The most important thing, however, is that if you want to understand His greatness you have to have an open mind. And who doesn't want to have an open mind? But even having said this, keeping an open mind is not always so easy.

"This is one of the many reasons I enjoyed Father Mikalson's company. Although he only stayed for a year, because his heart was open to all the possibilities concerning God, both of us learned so much together. And perhaps even more important, after we talked, the key points concerning both our religions were stronger, not weaker. We didn't find dissension between our beliefs. Rather, we found solid evidence of a single spirit; a single message; a single God.

"The Father was fond of quoting Jesus: Anyone whose Father is God listens gladly to the words of God - (John 8:34-51). Other times he would remark that, The person who truly loves God is the one who is open to God's knowledge - (1 Corinthians 8:3).

"Father Mikalson was a rare soul. He wasn't afraid to admit that he had more to learn and he certainly wasn't afraid to ask sincere questions. One day I noticed little pieces of paper bookmarking his Bible. When I asked him about them he turned the pages and read out loud: We can see and understand only a little about God now, as if we were peering at His reflection in a poor mirror. Now all I know is hazy and blurred - (1 Corinthians 13:12). Oh, there is so much more I want to tell you, but you can't understand it now - (John 16:24.)

Syura continued. "Just as you have asked me, Father Mikalson also wanted to know about Lord Vishnu and Lord Krishna. Nickolas, now I will tell you what I told the Father."

"Thank you very much. I am very eager to hear what you said. You have not only helped heal my broken body, your kind words are soothing my soul."

Nick was still smiling when Surya began to speak. "Nickolas, there is only one God. Your Holy Bible calls Him Christos and we call Him Krishna. Can you hear the same name in these two words? Krishna - Christos? Krista is another way of saying Krishna and Krista and Christos are very similar."

"Yes, I can hear how they are the same."

"Good Nickolas, but actually God has millions of Names. However, there are not millions of Gods. There is only one—but then again, there are many. Of course this sounds like double-talk until you understand the contradictions. Then everything makes perfect sense.

"As I told you, I was born in Angkor Wat. Someday I hope to return but for many years this has not been possible. A great struggle has torn my country apart. Nickolas, AngkorWat is not a Buddhist shrine—although it is understandable that you would mistake us for Buddhist. What makes this even more confusing to the casual observer is that in Angkor Wat you will find many statues of Buddha. Also, there are many Buddhist monks living in Angkor Wat. His face has also been carved above many of the temple entrances. But these were added, years later. Rather, Nickolas, Angkor Wat was built to honor Lord Vishnu.

Struggling to get comfortable, Major Sutton adjusted the pillow under his head and continued to read.

After the plates had been removed, more tea was served and Nick was amazed at how happy he felt. Suryavarman began to speak again. "I will never forget Father Mikalson and the wonderful things he taught me about seeing God in everyone. He was a man full of amazing curiosity.

"Nickolas, one of the most remarkable sights in Angkor Wat are the many statues and carvings depicting the demons and demigods churning the Ocean of Milk. Father Mikalson was very curious about this. "Of course, Father Mikalson wanted me to tell him this story and in doing so, naturally he asked me about Lord Vishnu, because Vishnu is mentioned throughout this story."

Surya cleared his throat. "Nickolas, let me begin by telling you this: The nature of God is a great mystery. All religions proclaim that God is great. The most important thing, however, is that if you want to understand His greatness you have to have an open mind. And who doesn't want to have an open mind? But even having said this, keeping an open mind is not always so easy. Most people think of themselves at Point A and their goal is to reach Point B and that is it. They don't realize that they will never reach an absolute understanding of God or reach some final destination. This is one of the things Father Mikalson and I used to talk about. God is not some final destination. Instead, Nickolas, we have to understand that God is the greatest love in existence and that we are part of Him. This is the true meaning about God's greatness. Even in our own lives, Nickolas, we have all experienced love. Think of you wife and how she brought you directly in contact with love, how expansive it felt and because God is love and the source of our love, that He, too embodies love-ever expanding. Nickolas, there is no end to God's love and we are all part of God and the grand movement.

"This is one of the many reasons I enjoyed Father Mikalson's company. Although he only stayed for a year, because his heart was open to all the possibilities concerning God, both of us learned so much together. And perhaps even more important, after we talked, the key points concerning both our religions were stronger, not weaker. We didn't find dissension between our beliefs. Rather, we found solid evidence of a single spirit; a single message; a single God and an ever-expanding love.

Nickolas then said, "but what was Father Mikalson's reaction to Lord Vishnu and Krishna, and Shiva and Lord Brahma? How did you both handle such a great contrast in your religious beliefs?"

"Nickolas, what I remember is how he was fond of quoting Jesus: Anyone whose Father is God listens gladly to the words of God - (John 8:34-51). Other times he would remark that, The person who truly loves God is the one who is open to God's knowledge - (1 Corinthians 8:3).

"Father Mikalson was a rare soul. He wasn't afraid to admit that he had more to learn and he certainly wasn't afraid to ask sincere questions. One day I noticed little pieces of paper bookmarking his Bible. When I asked him about them he turned the pages and read out loud: We can see and understand only a little about God now, as if we were peering at His reflection in a poor mirror. Now all I know is hazy and blurred - (1 Corinthians 13:12). Oh, there is so much more I want to tell you, but you can't understand it now - (John 16:24.)

Syura continued. "Just as you have asked me, Father Mikalson also wanted to know about Lord Vishnu and Lord Krishna. Nickolas, now I will tell you what I told the Father."

"Thank you very much. I am very eager to hear what you said. You have not only helped heal my broken body, your kind words are soothing my soul."

Nick was still smiling when Surya began to speak. "Nickolas, there is only one God. Your Holy Bible calls Him Christos and we call Him Krishna. Can you hear the same name in these two words: Krishna & Christos? Krista is another way of saying Krishna and Krista and Christos are very similar."

"Yes, I can hear how they are the same."

"Good Nickolas, but actually God has millions of Names. However, there are not millions of Gods. There is only one—but then again, there are many. Of course this sounds like double-talk until you understand the contradictions. Then everything makes perfect sense.

"As I told you, I am from Angkor Wat. Someday I hope to return but for many years this has not been possible. A great struggle has torn my country apart. Nickolas, AngkorWat is not a Buddhist shrine—although it is understandable that you would mistake us for Buddhist. What makes this even more confusing to the casual observer is that in Angkor Wat you will find many statues of Buddha. Also, there are many Buddhist monks living in Angkor Wat. His face has also been carved above many of the temple entrances. But these were added, years later. Rather, Nickolas, Angkor Wat was built to honor Lord Vishnu.

This is a ChatGPT image created from a photo taken by C.P. Cotton (with permission)

image by: ChatGPT

"Nickolas, Soon, Rama will tell you the story of The Churning of the Ocean of Milk—perhaps tomorrow when you're rested. We would like you to stay with us longer so that your leg can completely heal. Then there will be plenty of time to answer all your questions."

"Thank you so much. And yes, I can see that I have more strength to gain." Looking at Suryavarman, Nick then said, "I hope we can talk a little longer today."

"Yes, let us sit over there. Nickolas, as I said, God is a great mystery. After all, there are so many different descriptions of Him, found in all the different religions of the world. And when you take a look at them you seldom see the same God. As I mentioned earlier, even in the Holy Bible, God changes His form; even appearing as a burning bush.

"Nickolas, I know that you could tell me many examples, and I could also tell you how God has appeared in different forms in my religion.

"We call these divine manifestations, incarnations or avatars. Just as the same actor can change into many different costumes—sometimes appearing as a great king; sometimes as a soldier; as a famous hero; as a priest; as a doctor; or even as a villain—and yet, underneath all the different costumes and layers of makeup, we discover the same actor; the same divine person.

"I hope this helps you to understand us, Nickolas. Lord Krishna is the supreme actor who appears on this stage we call life; cloaked in so many costumes.

This is an extremely rare rendering of Lord Krishna by Kartik Das who was most likely a student of the famous Indian artist, Raja Ravi Varma. Image created by ChatGPT.

"Nokolas, although God has many names such as Govinda—and many forms such as Christ and Vishnu, when we speak of Krishna we always mean this original, divine character. What you call Him is not that important. God is eternal and remains the same. He is the one, single, unchanging, glorious, and all-loving Almighty Lord.

"The beautiful Hymns of Brahma, which glorify God, are very old. Rama's family brought them to Angkor Wat hundreds of years ago. By hearing these prayers we can appreciate who Lord Krishna is."

Closing his eyes, Surya began to speak again, reciting a small piece of the Hymn that he had memorized.

Krishna, who is known as Govinda, is the Supreme Godhead. He has an eternal, blissful, spiritual body. He is the origin of all. He has no other origin and He is the prime cause of all causes. I worship Govinda, the primeval Lord, who is adept in playing on His flute, with blooming eyes like lotus petals, with head bedecked with peacock feather, with the figure of beauty, tinged with the hue of blue clouds and His unique loveliness charming millions of Cupids.

Surya took a sip of water and then continued speaking. "This is what we need to know, Nickolas: Krishna expands into many forms—known as His Vishnu forms. You can also imagine that when you take one candle, and from it light many other candles—still the original flame remains. In the same way, even though Krishna expands Himself into countless Vishnu forms, Krishna always remains Krishna—never diminished in any way.

"Krishna expands into His Vishnu forms for many reasons. For example—this material world is created by one of His Vishnu forms. In this way, God is one, but also many.

"Adding to this great mystery is the fact that Vishnu often expands Himself into other divine forms. Plus, more than one Vishnu expansions can exist at the same time because God is unlimited and can do whatever He pleases. No wonder He is so difficult to understand."

Hearing that, Nick laughed out loud and the monks also began to laugh. Surya said a few words to the monks which brought even more laughter. It was obvious that everyone was having a wonderful time.

"Nickolas, in Angkor Wat there are many Vishnu carvings. These Vishnu expansions can be either male or female—or even animals. As I said, Rama will soon tell you how Vishnu changed Himself into a female, a male, and then an animal in order to churn a great Ocean of Milk. All these Vishnu forms have their own particular names and roles—both formal and informal. A single form of God can have dozens of names.

"This is why the Saints say that God has millions of Holy Names. My son, understanding God can be difficult. But the most important thing is to not lose sight of Krishna or Christos. Nothing created God. Krishna is not an expansion or derivation of some greater God. You will never find another God that can, in anyway, replace or do more, or be more, or appear more wonderful than Krishna."

"Nickolas, now I am feeling tired. I am getting to be an old man. Soon we can talk again. I also have questions that I would like to ask you . Nickolas, I would be honored to learn more about your faith."

"Sir, believe me, it is I who must thank you for taking so much time with me today. Thank you for answering my questions. I understand everything that you told me. I am also grateful for the delicious food. Thank you."

Turning toward the men sitting nearby, Nick smiled, trying his best to say thank you.

Even though he knew that they didn't speak English, Nick wanted to say a few words. "God saved my life and all of you have shown me such kindness. My suffering is quickly becoming a faded memory and I now find myself stronger in both body and spirit. I am beginning to feel like I did when I was younger. My thoughts are purer and I find myself wanting to pray. Thank you for being so kind to me. Thank you."

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"This is what we need to know, Nickolas: Krishna expands into an unlimited number manifestations—known as His Vishnu forms. You can also imagine that when we take one candle, and from it light many other candles—still the original flame, the original candle remains. In the same way, even though Krishna expands Himself into countless Vishnu forms, Krishna always remains Krishna. He is never diminished in any way. In fact, just the opposite is happening. Because of love, because God is love, He is ever expanding. This is why there will never be a set destination where we finally know everything there is to know about God.

"Krishna expands into His Vishnu forms for many many reasons. For example—this material world is created by one of His Vishnu forms. In this way, God is one, but also many.

"As I already mentioned, adding to this great mystery is the fact that Vishnu often expands Himself into other divine forms. Plus, more than one Vishnu expansions can exist at the same time because God is unlimited and can do whatever He pleases. No wonder He is so difficult to understand."

Hearing that, Nick laughed out loud and the monks also began to laugh. Surya said a few words to the monks which brought even more laughter. It was obvious that everyone was having a wonderful time.

"Nickolas, in Angkor Wat there are many Vishnu carvings. These Vishnu expansions can be either male or female—or even animals. As I said, Rama will soon tell you how Vishnu changed Himself into a female, a male, and then an animal in order to churn a great Ocean of Milk. All these Vishnu forms have their own particular names and roles—both formal and informal. A single form of God can have dozens of names.

"This is why the Saints say that God has millions of Holy Names. My son, understanding God can be difficult but the most important thing is to not lose sight of Krishna or Christos. Nothing created God. Krishna is not an expansion or derivation of some greater God. You will never find another God that can, in anyway, replace or do more, or be more, or appear more wonderful than Krishna."

"Nickolas, now I am feeling tired. As you can see I am getting to be an old man. Soon we can talk again. I also have questions that I would like to ask you . Nickolas, I would be honored to learn more about your faith."

"Sir, believe me, it is I who must thank you for taking so much time with me today. Thank you for answering my questions. I understand everything that you told me. I am also grateful for the delicious food. Thank you."

Turning toward the men sitting nearby, Nick smiled, trying his best to say thank you.

Even though he knew that they didn't speak English, Nick wanted to say a few words. "God saved my life and all of you have shown me such kindness. My suffering is quickly becoming a faded memory and I now find myself stronger in both body and spirit. I am beginning to feel like I did when I was younger. My thoughts are purer and I find myself wanting to pray. Thank you for being so kind to me. Thank you."

Major Sutton felt the need for some fresh air so he placed Nick's letter on his sleeping bag, unzipping the tent's door. It was late and the jungle felt quiet. Sutton lifted his head upward to gaze at the moon, peaking out behind the clouds.

Vishnu, Krishna, an Ocean of Milk: Sutton thought to himself, "How strange!" He gazed even deeper into the night sky.

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He remembered being a boy scout. For a whole week they had explored the Grand Canyon. "Yes, now I remember—that's where I heard those words. Actually, there were all kinds of Hindu names given to the different rock formations that Mr. Sullivan had told us about."

Sutton tried to remember what he had said. Besides being their scoutmaster, Mr. Sullivan was an amateur geologist and the Grand Canyon was just one of the many places he took his young scouts. The night air cleared Sutton's head as he remembered a long forgotten lecture:

"In 1882, geologist Charles Dutton published one of the earliest and most accurate geological studies of the Grand Canyon. Other geologist also had a role in the naming of the Canyon's various attributes. Specifically, the Vishnu Schist was named by geologist Charles Walcott in the 1880's after a prominent rock formation on the north side of the canyon called, Vishnu Temple. Then around 1930, the Brahma Schist was named by two geologists, Campbell and Maxson, after the Brahma Temple, which is a butte overlooking Bright Angel Canyon. As far as the Rama Schist, it probably derived its name from Rama Temple, a rock spire near the Vishnu Temple. All the landmarks can be seen from the major overlooks on the South Rim."

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And as far as Krishna, the first thing Sutton remembered were some odd people at the airport. For years on end you couldn't catch a flight without the "Hare Krishnas" stopping you with one of their books. "Is this what those Hare Krishna books at the airport were all about: churning an Ocean of Milk? My God, this is unbelievable!"

Pulling the zipper back down on the mosquito net, Sutton re-adjusted the pillow under his neck and once again began to read Nick's letter.

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Suryavarman was feeding his pet monkey when Nick approached. Delighted by such a wonderful sight, Nick sat down and with a big grin on his face reached out and petted the little fellow's head.

"Thank you, I am much better. By the way, while you were resting, Rama took me to where you first found me. As we sat there Rama told me the story of the Ocean of Milk. I didn't know that you both came from the same village."

"Yes, Nickolas, but not exactly the same village. Angkor Wat is a very large area and my village is near his. Tell me Nickolas, what did you think of the story?"

"I must say that I have never heard anything quite like it. But if I may, I fear that my faith in God is not very strong. When Rama was telling me about the demons and demigods churning the Ocean of Milk, it reminded me of other stories that I can't seem to believe in, either. For instance, there is a story in the Holy Bible that makes me feel uncomfortable. This story is found at the beginning of the Book of Jonah. Anyhow, the Bible says that after Jonah was thrown into the sea, a great fish swallowed him. He remained inside the fish for seventy-two hours. After offering prayers to the Lord, the fish was ordered by God to spit Jonah out on the beach.

"I want to thank you, Sir. From the bottom of my heart I thank you. However, once again I am faced with the same doubts. Please tell me—what about these misgivings? Excuse me—but what I'm trying to say is—do you really believe in these stories? Or, are they just inventions of man's imagination? I know that the Orthodox position is that everything in the Holy Bible actually happened. But what about Churning an Ocean of Milk? How could that have possibly happened—the Lord incarnating as a huge tortoise and spinning a mountain of gold on His back? I mean, I understand the story. It's a wonderful tale. I feel awkward telling you about my misgivings so please don't take me wrong. And yes it has the same message as the Bible. Both Jonah and the demigods turned to God for help. But a snake wrapping itself around a mountain so that he could be pulled back and forth to spin it—how can that possibly be true? Are your Scriptures supposed to be factual, also?"

"Nickolas, I want to discuss with you the power and nature of prayer. I think this will help us. Prayer is a common practice that both our religions prescribe. In fact, prayer in some form or another is found in all religions. Don't you agree?"

Nodding his head in agreement, Suryavarman continued. "Nickolas, all I can tell you is that prayer is the greatest power on earth. Father Mikalson was fond of quoting Saint Therese of Lisieux who said that the power of prayer is tremendous. She said that it makes one like a queen who can approach the king at any time and receive whatever she asks.

"My son, I am speaking about the audible, repetitive prayer that we both subscribe to. I know you have asked about our prayer beads. We have found them helpful when praying. We adhere to a certain number of prayers each day and the beads help us to count, and they also keep the mind from wandering. Actually, the similarities concerning prayer between our two religions is the most astonishing thing that Father Mikalson and I discovered. Although it's getting late, perhaps you would be kind enough to join me for a short walk and I will tell you what the Father and I talked about."

"I would like that very much."

"Good, your company will be a blessing. Come, we will go this way."

"Sir, I am very interested in what you are telling me this evening. Would you please tell me some more? What does prayer have to do with these stories that seem to defy all logic?"

"Nickolas, as you know from your own religious studies, Christian history is full of supernatural events following intense prayer. Father Mikalson told me about Saint Joseph of Cupertino, who actually levitated in divine rapture before the Pope.

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"Father Mikalson also told me about a Russian peasant who spent the major part of his life in constant prayer—experiencing many supernatural events.

"The Pilgrim writes about a dream he once had. The dream took place after twenty-four hours spent praying—without stopping for even a little while. In the dream he saw himself in front of his spiritual director who had passed away some time before. As he dreamed, his deceased teacher was alive and explaining to him the correct order to read the Philokalia.

"While the Pilgrim held a copy of his beloved Philokalia in his hands, his spiritual master pointed to a certain page he wanted him to read—even marking the page with a piece of charcoal.

"The remarkable thing is that when the Pilgrim woke from his dream, although the Philokalia was lying open on a stone next to him, he remembered distinctly that the book had not been on the rock the night before. Not only was the book lying open, it was turned to the same page he had been discussing with his spiritual master and indeed, the page was marked with charcoal—and even the charcoal was lying beside the book.

"Nickolas, other than God, who can possibly know all the supernatural things that have happened to those who have spent their lives in deep, constant prayer? Remember my son, even Jesus Christ gave us the commandment, to always pray without ceasing: (Thessalonians 5:17).

"Are you following me so far?"

"Yes Sir, everything you have said is true. I am familiar with the Philokalia and its teachings. And you are correct—there are numerous events throughout history which illustrate the supernatural powers of prayer."

"Good, Nickolas. Please allow me to say this. You just told me about your doubts. For a wonderful purpose, Providence has sent you here. We thank God for His mercy.

"For a moment, let us look at where the story of The Churning of the Ocean of Milk originates. I understand your doubts. I have prayed that God will strengthen your faith. I'm also praying that God will give me the right words to speak."

Several monks approached without speaking. They bowed to Suryavarman out of respect. Again, it didn't matter that they could not understand what was being said. Love for one's spiritual master is like that.

"Nickolas, the Churning of the Ocean of Milk can be found in its entirety in the Shrimad-Bhagavatam. This is another book we thank Rama's ancestors for. Our copy is very old and its author says that, "the Shrimad-Bhagavatam propounds the highest truth, which is understandable by those devotees who are fully pure in heart." In fact, it further states that the Shrimad-Bhagavatam is the literary incarnation of God. This book is very old, Nickolas, and was compiled by Vishnu. In order to codify the great oral wisdom of ancient India, Vishnu appeared as the great Indian scribe, Shrila Vyasadeva and transformed the Vedas into the Shrimad-Bhagavatam."

"My son, as we both know, our religions recommend that we pray out loud. The Holy Scriptures tell us that whatever we choose to do in performing devotional activities, that prayer must accompany it. Furthermore, who can deny the Lord's supernatural nature? Nickolas, the point is that praying does just that: it puts us in contact with the supernatural.

"Another Scripture that I have studied is called the Rig Veda. In one of its ancient hymns, sacred sound is described. This Scripture tells us that as we pray—enveloping ourselves in divine sound—that there are actually four dimensions. The fourth part is what we hear, normally. But the other three parts are hidden. They are the sacred or spiritual aspects of sound. Although they are hidden, they are revealed by fully absorbing oneself deeply in prayer.

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"Of course, this is a great mystery, but nevertheless, prayer has taken many saints into these hidden dimensions. Perhaps this hidden dimension can be compared to a dream and how the action of sleep takes us into the hidden world of our dreams. However, Nickolas, I am not using this comparison to suggest that our mundane dreams take place in the same realm that the Rg Veda is describing. It is just a comparison to help you understand."

Shifting his weight to his good leg, Nick smiled. "Yes, I understand what you are saying."

"I am pleased that my words are clear. Nickolas, there is still a little time before we return. So if I may, I would like to tell you about two saints. Their lives illustrate what we are talking about. As you know, Rama's ancestors came from a sacred village in India and we have learned much about God from the stories they bought with them."

"Yes, please continue, we can sit over there.

"Nickolas, the first story is about a very elevated soul that lived about 500 years ago in this same village. This would have been just before Rama's family left India. The saint's name was Shrinivas and it is said that he developed his inner meditation to such a degree that inadvertently, tangible paraphernalia from his meditations would somehow appear when returning to external consciousness. For example, once, while meditating on the Lord's pastimes, Shrinivas saw that he was actually worshiping God, who was seated on a jeweled throne manifesting His beautiful, Chaitanya Form. In Shrinivas's meditation, he approached the Lord and reverentially anointed His body with fragrant sandalwood paste. Then he placed a garland of aromatic flowers around the Lord's neck and began to carefully fan Him.

"As Shrinivas served the Lord in this way, he could not keep his composure and looking at the Lord's magnificent form, he began to exhibit ecstatic symptoms. This pleased Lord Chaitanya who then took the same garland of flowers that Shrinivas had given Him, and placed it around Shrinivas's neck. After the Lord made this loving gesture, Shrinivas's meditation broke, but the flower garland was still adorning his own chest. Its fragrance was unlike anything he had ever experienced."

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As Nick listened to what was being said, his heart and mind soared with love of God. His soul was filled with happiness. As the sun slowly began to dip, again Suryavarman began speaking.

"Nickolas, there is one more story. Narottam das Thakura was another great saint who lived in Vrindavan where Rama's ancestors were from. It was in this village that Narottam and Shrinivas became friends.

"I was told this story by my grandfather, who heard it from his father. It is said that as days passed into weeks and then into months, Narottam grew in spiritual accomplishments. His reputation throughout Vrindavan made everyone very happy.

"One night, a divine cowherd girl appeared to him in a spiritual dream and said, 'Dedicate yourself to the feet of your guru and do whatever he asks. Your sincerity and austerity have pleased me, and I will see that you are engaged in a very confidential service. When I meet Krishna every afternoon, I see that the devotees are serving Him with the utmost care. They make a special milk sweet for Him, and Champakalata is the most efficient cowherd girl in this service. You shall work under her direction boiling the milk and remember, that I become happy if Krishna is happy.'

"When Narottam awoke, he quickly ran to his spiritual master, Lokanath Goswami, and conveyed the entire dream. He embraced Narottam, confirming that the cowherd girl was indeed none other than, Radhika—Lord Krishna's eternal companion. Lokanath was pleased to hear that Narottam was given a special service—boiling milk, by Radharani, Herself. Lokanath understood that this was his disciple's eternal service to Krishna, and that Radhika was merely reinstating him in that service.

"After being given the service of boiling milk and having it confirmed by his guru, Narottam would sometimes go into elaborate meditative trances, deeply absorbed in his eternal spiritual form of a cowherd girl, serving Radharani.

"In this perfected form, Narottam—(who in that realm had the form of a young cowherd girl)—used dry wood for the fire, which kept the milk boiling. On occasion, however, the milk would overflow. Whenever this happened, "she" would try to stop the overflowing milk with her bare hands. During Narottam's intense meditations, "she" would often neglect the fact that her hands were scorched. But when Narottam's contemplation subsided, he saw that the scorched hands in his mystical vision had accompanied him back to the world of three dimensions. Narottam even tried to cover his hands with a piece of cloth, but all of Vrindavan knew the transcendental way in which he had received the burns.

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"My son, this is the same discussion that Father Mikalson and I talked about. The Lord blessed us with the understanding that as the saints prayed, many of them dove deeply into the supernatural. In this supernatural place they experienced many magical and amazing things. And we must remember that the rules which govern our world do not apply to the supernatural realm. In the supernatural, an Ocean of Milk does exist. In the supernatural realm, Jonah did spend seventy-two hours inside the stomach of a whale. Awaking from the supernatural realm, the Pilgrim discovered his beloved book open and marked with charcoal.

"Nickolas, believing in the Word of God should now be easier. Each of us turns toward God for salvation. Each of us hopes that one day we will go to heaven. In every church and temple throughout the world, some form of heaven is described. Just imagine what a supernatural place heaven is. It is never stagnant but instead a creation a realm of every expanding love and revelation. Both the Koran and the Holy Bible say that it is inhabited by an infinite host of angels, with bodies of light.

"Just imagine, Nickolas, a realm of indescribable and eternal love."

Looking at Suryavarman, Nickolas started to speak. "Yes, of course, and now I see that such a place would be overflowing with supernatural qualities—compared to life as we know it on earth."

"Good Nickolas. What we need to understand is simple: the realm of the supernatural does exist. If we can accept this, then it is easy to have faith in the Holy Scriptures."

"I'm sorry, I don't follow you. Would you please explain this to me?"

"Nickolas, just as I have described, by utterance of prayer, men and women from all faiths have entered the divine regions of the supernatural. Just by its very nature, imagine what they may have experienced. And remember—by definition the supernatural realm is transcendental to this material world.

"Let me ask you, my son—isn't it feasible that the Scriptures contain descriptions of these other dimensions—hidden, but real—especially since the Scriptures are only concerned with sacred sounds in the first place? Could it be that the saints, after participating in these deeper dimensions—upon "returning" to this world—canonized what they experienced by describing them in drama, poetry, song, and prose?"

Nick began to smile. "Thank you for telling me all this. Yes, it is more than possible. Like waking up from a dream and remembering it. But instead of a dream, a kind of spiritual trance. No wonder some of these stories—when they are told to us, are so difficult to believe. Again, thank you. I cannot tell you how happy you have made me."

"You are more than welcome, Nickolas. But it is God we must thank for bringing you here so that we can reach these conclusions. In summary, there are a few other points we can discuss about the Ocean of Milk. In a letter that Father Mikalson wrote many years ago, he said that we also need to remember that these stories, while on the surface may seem inconceivable—that they are in fact very special and need to be treated with the greatest respect.

"He said that the first thing about these stories is that the saints not only accept them, but they also read, rejoice, glorify and encourage others to read them. Because the saints accept the Churning of the Ocean of Milk—this immediately tells us that its entire narration is not ordinary; certainly not science fiction but rather, holy chronicles of the supernatural realm. If the Holy Fathers accept something, then likewise, what they accept becomes holy, worthwhile, full of integrity, worshipful, and substantial.

"Another important aspect about this story is its fascinating content. Such stories naturally stimulate our interest in God. Without being interested in Him, how will we ever become eager to discover His message? Each and every story found within the Holy Scriptures—easily believed or not—is ultimately written to glorify God. For the reader of these Scriptures, this accomplishes the spiritual commandment: to always remember Him."

At this point, as they approached the monastery, the little bell could be heard ringing in the distant. Nick understood that some food was being offered to Lord Vishnu. "I am so fortunate to have had this conversation with you. Yes, tomorrow I would like to walk with you again. I am seeing things in a new light. I feel as if a large weight has been lifted. Thank you so very much."

Reaching out and taking Suryavarman's hand, Nick had one more thing he had to say. "A few minutes ago I said that these ancient stories reminded me of waking up from a dream and remembering it. But instead of a dream, a kind of spiritual trance, and this is why these stories are so marvelous."

"Yes Nickolas, I remember you saying that."

"Well, I've been wanting to tell you what happened to me when I fell off the cliff and hit my head. I believe I died, but I have the most amazing memories of where I went. At first I thought you would think that because I had hit my head so hard, I was crazy. But now, the way you are explaining these different realms and the realms of the supernatural, I want to tell you what happened. I think tomorrow is going to be another beautiful day and if we can, I would like to talk to you. Perhaps we can take another walk."

"Of course we can talk some more, Nickolas. Now you have me curious." Both men began to laugh as they approached the monastery. Saying goodnight, Nickolas folded his hands and slightly bowed to Suryavarman, copying the same gesture that the other men used to greet or say goodby to their spiritual master. In fact, Nick wanted to copy them. By now there was no doubt that Surya was in fact a rare and living saint of the highest order. Now he understood why he had survived and he wanted to tell Surya what had happened.

Chapter 8 - Near Death Experience

A superbly written, inspiring, spiritual, mystical novel which has very deftly woven into its fabric the unknown concepts of bilocation and planery expansion to hone in some very difficult concepts. Taking examples from the Eastern and Western culture and their corresponding scriptures to conclude a very desirable theory, the novel has kept us engrossed till the end. (Nandini Sinha)

Exactly as Nickolas had predicted, the next morning proved to be perfect; a brisk fifty-nine degrees with nothing but sunshine and a pleasant 80 degrees for the entire day. Suryavarman motioned for Nick to have a seat. Nearby some tea was being kept hot on a small fire. After an early lunch the monks were going back to where Nick had been originally found, teetering on the brink of death. This was now going to be Nick’s second time to revisit the spot. The first time was with Rama who took him there to tell him about the demons & demigods Churning the Ocean of Milk. The tea’s rich aroma and the smoke from the fire smelled wonderful; the morning sun slowly began warming the earth below. Nick could see Rama carrying a basket of vegetables.

Just as they were doing when they discovered Nick on that fateful day, the monks were going to fill their empty water jugs. Although Nick had volunteered to carry one, Surya insisted that he didn’t. Instead he wanted Nick completely free to tell him what was on his mind without being burdened by any chores. Besides, with everyone in good health and their little infirmary empty, Rama, who was the strongest, was going to be carrying two.

For now Surya and Nick just sat drinking their tea while enjoying the fabulous morning. Not far away a small forrest squirrel sat motionless, watching for Surya’s signal that it was safe to approach. Surya loved all the animals that lived next to the monastery. There were even a few deer. The monks had a special area where they scattered anything that they couldn’t use and during the night the Muntjac deer never failed to eat everything left for them. The monastery’s vegetarian diet benefited everyone, but the little forest squirrel knew that Suryavarman was going to leave a very special treat for him. The squirrel’s only concern was Surya’s pet monkey who often got there ahead of him. Nick and Surya chuckled as they watched the fun. As it turned out Surya had treats for both of them hidden in a little bag.

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Steeped in an internal wisdom that was so apparent, Surya suggested to Nick that they should return to the spring where they had found him. Considering what was weighing upon his heart, Nickolas told Surya that he also liked the idea. Soon it was before them. Surya pointed to the left of the small waterfall. A rise in the rocks blocked the view but on the other side there was a sandy and partially dry area where Nick had been lying lifeless. The steep cliffs that rose above clearly suggested where Nick come from.

The monks had been coming to this place for years to fill up their water jugs and years ago Surya had made sure that two chairs had been constructed and left behind. Of course Surya was much too old to be carrying heavy jugs of water but he loved to sit and watch whenever possible; often asking on of the monks to sit and talk to him. Now it was Nick who sat down. He desperately needed to talk to Surya.

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Surya and Nick had found a shady place to sit overlooking the spring. “Tell me Nickolas, why do you say that you died?”

Thinking back in time, Surya said, “Yes, I remember when we first found you. You looked so lifeless. I watched carefully and you weren’t breathing but then you suddenly took a huge breath and gave us all a tremendous fright.” Hearing Surya say that, Nick began to laugh, with Surya quick to follow.

Looking at Surya, Nick began to speak. “Please, I haven't had the chance to tell you what had happened to me. After we were attacked in Vietnam and I had managed to escape, I had been on my own for about two weeks, just trying to get to survive. I was doing everything I could to stay alive so that I could get back home to my wife and daughter. However, before long I began to feel disorientated. The heat was horrific and I was never able to find enough water to drink. When we were attacked I didn’t know that my canteen had been hit by a bullet and wouldn’t hold any water. As far as something to eat, because we were supposed to be picked up immediately after our long mission, all of us had already eaten most of the food we had. When it was time to make our way to our extraction point our packs were empty. What I had to eat was barely enough for a day.

“Then everything seemed to get very rugged and I had run out of options. I didn’t have a choice but to push on in hope of finding someone to help me.”

“To be perfectly honest, I was beginning to think that I was never going to make it. Even though I was helplessly lost I kept moving deeper into the mountains, doing the best that I could. The heat was draining my strength. Every now and then I would find some water but I began to get sick.”

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