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Dear Shih Fu,
Broken Rules, broken mirror. Heng Sure and I have been going by the principle: if we hold the rules and precepts we will be okay. The other day we took too long after lunch and were ½ hour late getting back to the bowing site. As we dawdled getting our trip together at a gas station, a black van came roaring by and smashed our side mirror. The retribution mirrors the offense - broken rule, broken mirror. Now, everytime I have to crane my neck out to check traffic because of no mirror, I am reminded of that mistake, realizing it could be my head next time.
Bow, bow, bow - all the time bow. I have so much arrogance I don't even see it until I start bowing. Like breathing - so unconscious, automatic. It's only when you stop breathing that you realize how huge my arrogance is. The bowing lifts that weight off my body. Lightness always follows bowing - bowing in the magic circle.
Some conversations. Two older women circle us. They're friends, it seems, but at odds.
1st woman: "Ridiculous!"
2nd woman: "Bless you."
1st women: "Ridiculous!"
2nd woman: "Bless you."
Three hyped-up teen girls buzz up, spewing questions, "what are you doing? Where are you going?"
Monk: "Same place you are - nowhere."
Girls: "Why do you have to do it so low to the ground?"
Monk: "So we don't get lost - if we get too high, we get lost."
Girls: "Why don't you drive to this Buddha City, it would be faster?"
Monk: "Too easy. Anybody could do that."
Girls: "Are you with the Hare Krishnas?"
Monk: "No."
Girls: "Well, I don't get it. I mean, why are you doing it?"
Monk: "To clean up pout act and hopefully to get rid of all the hate, bad vibes, and disasters on the planet."
Girls: "Good luck."
More conversations: A little girl coolly glides her hotwheels to a stop inches from Heng Sure and with wide-open eyes asks, "What are you doing, Mister?" I explain. Later as we stop for a break she comes cruising up again. "Why did you stop?"
Monk: "We didn't stop."
Girl: "But you're not bowing."
Monk: " We're still bowing inside."
Girl: (quietly and thoughtfully) "Oh." An older girl with an edge, "What is this anyhow?" etc. I'm getting nowhere with her. Finally she says, "Well, you believe in what you do and I in what I do. You won't convince me and I won't change you."
Monk: "What do you believe in?"
Girl: "I believe in God."
Monk: So do I. All of them."
Girl: (empathetically, bothered) "But I believe in one God only!"
Monk: "Does you one god only believe in you?"
Girl: "Well, ah, ah, ah - take care of yourselves . . ." she mumbles away, talk to herself.
Monk: "You, too."
Flashy car squeals up, "Yoohoo, yoohoo, hey - hey you guys. What are you doing? Are you Krishnas?"
Monk: "No. Buddhist monks."
Girl: "What?"
Monk: " Buddhist. Buddhist monks."
"Girl: "Oh, Buddhist. Wow! Far out! Great! I love it. I love it!"
An older man: "They're in a fraternity. That's part of the hazing they have to go through to join the fraternity."
An old woman watched us with a skeptical and discerning eye for about half an hour. Finally she said "Okay, God bless you," and left.
"I think we passed," asked Heng Sure. A young photographer, sincere, came and asked to take pictures and for information. "You know, there is something very beautiful around you," he said. "I can see and feel it."
Two very old ladies out on a walk, leaning on each other for support, stop and patiently watch, waiting for a chance to talk. Timidly, ones asks, if they can disturb us.
Lady: "Well, I don't care what religion you are. I think it's wonderful praying like this. We really admire you."
Monk: "There's too much hate in the world. If we can change our hate into peace . . ."
Lady: "Well, I am sure whoever bothers you will find a little peace."
A windy day, this one!
Disciple Heng Ch'au
bows in respect.