Thomas Merton was an astonishingly creative spirit, writing books, poems, letters, journals, and taking what he called Zen photographs. At the moment, I am visiting a Zen Center in Vermont, and working at meditation. Merton meditated faithfully. He was a torn, conflicted man, always doubting his faith, always faithful to it. Late in life, he fell in love with a nurse – he called her “S” – and his Abbott broke up the affair before it went too far. Merton wrote that he feared he would end up living a life of regret if he didn’t pursue the relationship, but he didn’t. Years later, she wrote me and we met upstate for dinner and talked about her time with Merton, their walks, lunches, phone calls. She left Kentucky to spare him any further temptation. I always wondered, even after reading his account of the relationship, if he wished he had gone with her.
Merton was obsessively creative. He created and created, every day of his life. He inspired one of my first non-fiction books, “Running To The Mountain,” and he inspires me still. Today I was looking over some of his “Zen” photography, all black and white and I certainly related to it. Tomorrow, I will move this flower basket into Maria’s studio. I do not wish to live a life of regret.
Merton’s writings remind me to be self-aware, to challenge myself, to seek a spiritual life and reject the idea that happiness and security comes from money or success. To be humble, and not think I know more than others, or have the right to tell them what to do. To keep faith with oneself, inside or out of religion. This simplicity is, I see, reflected in his photography, and so he gets to inspire me yet again.
