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July 16, 1979
Ocean Cove, California
Dear Shih Fu,
"Country Roads Cross Section"
It's Sunday afternoon. We are bowing through the Ocean Cove, a small hamlet on Highway 1. There is a gas pump, a country store, a weathered barn, and a few houses. In front of the store are the local young people sitting on tree stumps, old chairs, car fenders, and motorcycles. They're drinking beer, smoking, and rapping. Each is looking for something, waiting expectantly, but no one could say what it is they're waiting for. Even though there is a crowd, an empty loneliness hangs in the air like the dull fog that hasn't lifted today. They all have homes, but no one wants to go home. Their hearts have no place to rely. We know where they are at, and feel sympathy.
The Bodhisattva sees that all beings
are lonely and without a place to rely on,
and he feels sympathy.
Avatamsaka Sutra
As we round the corner and come into sight, a couple of the young men start testing us with taunts. The toughest-looking biker, wearing a black leather jacket and a beard, has pinned a handout explaining the bowing pilgrimage to the store's screen door for everyone to read. His name is Bobby. He says to the young men,
"You watch your mouth there, boys. Don't bother the fellows. They're doing hard work for a good cause, they're all right." "Yeah, but they're weird, really serious. They won't even drink a beer...real party-poopers," replied one of the men. "You'd be a little different if you'd been bowing on the road for two years. A man's got to have gone through a lot of changing doing that," answers the biker. "Two years!? Like that?" says one of the young men. "Yeah. They've got something going for them. It's for everybody. I figure I'm not going to let any young punks hassle them."
"Yeah, sure, okay, Bobby. Whatever you say," says the young man. They all sit down again and quietly watch. Then, a charter bus pulls up. Bobby hops off his bike and starts directing traffic so the bus can safely park. It's a narrow road and lots of traffic. The group of young people starts to hoot and holler at the bus--making things a little unpleasant. Bobby shouts, "You all be nice to these folks...be nice now." They quiet down again. Dharma Master Heng Kung hops out of the bus. He and a large group of people have driven down from the City of Ten Thousand Buddhas to see the bowing monks and make offerings.
So here we all are, measureless living beings from different worlds, yet all converge and come in touch today on a cross-section slice of country road. On the bus are happy, bright-eyed Buddhist disciples from allover the world. There are the two bowing monks. Outside, Mick Jagger and the Rolling Stones' music blares in the air and irritates the spirit. The lonely kids are saying, to each other, "Don't go home yet. Stay a little longer. I'II buy everyone another beer." We people are all the same at heart. The suffering and bliss, the ordinary and the sagely, the pure and the defiled, the free and the hung-up are all mixed together in this little junction-stop town just as it is all mixed together inside each of us. Differences are illusions. We have one nature, the Buddha-nature and it is non-dual and perfectly fused. Yet this Dharma-nature has no face or appearance.
The Dharma-nature pervades all places,
all beings and all countries,
It exists in all three periods of time
with no remainder,
Without a shape or mark that can
be obtained.
Avatamsaka Sutra
How strange the world seems sometimes! With houses and fences, with curtains and cars, we try to make a "you" and "me," and a "me and mine," but no matter how we try, we cannot divide our true nature. We are all deeply related. Ultimately, all differences are invisible. No one can stop the interrelatedness of all beings and all things any more than a barbed wire fence can obstruct the air, or a bridge can separate a river.
Today I got a glimpse of the level-equality of all beings. In this little town I saw that all our faces are just masks we wear. Bobby looked mean and tough, but he was soft inside. Behind the fierce front was kindness. Behind all our masks there is only one face. It has no color or shape, no size or place. It is without a mark of dimension. I thought, "Bowing once every three steps isn't two monks bowing, it is all living beings. This is the one heart. We never leave it, it never leaves us." The one face we all have is the Buddha's face. The Buddha's face is every place.
No body or mind inside,
No world outside...
No self or others, contemplating
freedom,
Not form or emptiness, seeing
the Thus Come One.