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June 8
Dear Shih Fu,
We drove ahead to check out the road; sheer cliffs on one side and private beach homes on the other - barbed wire fences and menacing warning signs protecting it all. Like this until Malibu, maybe further. Reluctantly we decide to keep the van for a while. "Don't force it . . . accord with conditions."
There's so much to learn about being a monk: deportment, rules, ceremonies, when to speak and when to shut up, who to talk with and who to avoid. It all comes slow and hard. Usually I learn quickly, but here it's not simply a question of imitating, but transforming from the inside out. In ither words, the understanding has to come from within. Can't fake it. The heart and mind have to change, and that takes time, a good teacher, hard work, and patience. In the meanwhile, I blunder along from sloppy mistakes to gross errors. A phony monk would be transparent to anyone, especially himself.
Heng Sure has been plagued with a battle of diarrhea all afternoon. Not complaining - just hanging in. He's dead asleep now, propped up against the spare tire. After lunch the hoots and hollers began again. A car pulled up, "Hey, you want a joint?" plus some obscenities about Jesus. The police (that is, the Los Angeles County Sheriff) stopped to watch but did not question us. A lot of little miniature dogs came charging up to their fences as we passed, doing their guard duties in pink ribbons. And everybody jogs here. From the time we get up until we fall asleep we hear the constant footfalls of tennis shoes and huffing all around us. People are pretty mellow and accepting. We wind through like a trickle of water along the gutter after a light rain: unobstructed and unnoticed.
I hope all is well at Gold Mountain. We do miss the Sutra lectures. Every night we read from the Avatamsaka at the same time you do.
Today we are very tired and sunburned. We bowed close to the road (no sidewalks, small shoulder) in alternate fashion to be more visible. Our flowing robes are real traffic - safety assets: very noticeable along with the bald heads. From the beach someone yells, "Go home, baldies!" I thought to myself, "We are trying our best to go home - to truly go home."
At the last five minutes of the day on this busy, dirty stretch of road a man wand woman walked up. The man bowed once, stuffed something in my hand and said wither, "peace on" or "please" (diesel trucks too noisy to hear clearly), and walked away quickly. It was a $50 bill - half a Buddha for City of Ten Thousand Buddhas. Disciple Heng Ch'au bows in respect.
* * *
June 16
Dear Shih Fu,
We are three miles outside of Malibu and making our way along the gutters and driveways of the Pacific Coast Highway. Kuo Shih and Kuo Hsiang Woo are coming out this Sunday with the little cart which we parked at Gold Wheel, and they'll drive the green van back to South Pasadena. Outside of Malibu it looks like the countryside opens up and we will be able to find spots to pitch the tent at night and camp. The trip should change in flavor at that time - no more leap-frogging through the traffic to a parking space and then walking back to resume the bowing. But through the populated parts of the trip, through L.A., the van was the only way to go. Now that we're on open road with the traffic flying by, the truth of the proverb When you get to the mountain, there's sure to be a road, is really evident. What looks to the eye like a totally impassable section of road for monks and pedestrians, looks very different from your knees. Bowing space always appears, naturally and effortlessly before us. It's pretty amazing. People come up and say, "You bowed through there? Where?" I hope it is the same when we encounter the super highway.
Gold Mountain Buddhists have already got a good reputation with the law authorities - for being peaceful, law-abiding, rule following citizens. Not far from here in Topanga last week there was a bad incident: two robe-wearing, shaven-headed young men who fit our description assaulted a sixteen-year-old boy held him at knife-point for an hour. Two L.A. Sheriffs stopped us, frisked us, did a whole series of check-outs for warrants, I.D.'s etc. When they decided that we were not the ones they wanted, they relaxed (they said they thought the assailants were Hare Krishnas) and asked a little bit about our trip. The cops were efficient, and they left wishing us well. Three days later (yesterday afternoon) we were suddenly surrounded by four more squad cars and a paddy wagon. They came out of nowhere and swarmed like moths around a lightbulb. This group didn't know about the first check-out, and approached us very hostilely and warily, saying, "Do you have your knives on you?" Heng Ch'au answered, "We are not allowed to carry weapons, it's against the rules." "Oh, are you Buddhist or Krishnas?" "We are Buddhist!" "Oh, yeah, it's you guys. Okay." No Problem. Say, do you do that bowing all day?" Heng Ch'au said, "Yes. We get up at 4:00 and pray and meditate and bow until 10:00 p.m. We eat one vegetarian mean a day." Whistles of admiration, grins, and slow shakes of heads from the cops: "Wow. Only one meal a day? Okay, see you later. Watch out for cars. Good luck."
Shih Fu, the visit to Gold Wheel Temple gave us a great deal of inspiration and tuned our work in wonderful ways. To witness the Master's selflessness, his virtue and compassion brings us great delight. At Gold Mountain it is easy to rely on the Master's constant presence and his every-day example of virtuous conduct. Away from Gold Mountain, out here on the road, meeting with people from all directions, we get a keen appreciation of the Master's consummate skill and eloquence, his mastery of human-nature and his penetration of others' conditions and potentials. Most uncanny in the Sage is the strength and water: it never contends at any point. It yields, takes the last place, the lowest place , accords with all conditions but never struggles. This is easy to speak of, exceptionally difficult to practice and most awesome to witness. I find myself asking: "What would Shih Fu do in a situation like this?" What are you going to do? You can't climb on your teacher's conditions all your life. Stand on your own feet! Use your own wisdom Accord with conditions and do not move! Turn the light back, be patient and 'don't get angry swo pwo he.' Be like water. The soft overcomes the hard"
I wrote an essay on responses, and one of the paragraphs goes like this:
So have I any responses? No, nothing magical. I'm too raw, too much a beginner with too make karmic debts to pay back; but on the other hand, amid mundane dharmas I have had a response. I've clearly seen the foundation of my cultivation and the purpose of my life. This is a response. I don't know how to fly or even to run. I don't yet know how to walk, but I'm practicing bowing and slowly, surely, under the patient and compassionate guidance of a good and wise Teacher, I am learning how to stand on my own, and how to stand for Buddhism.
Jotted this down while waiting out a case of diarrhea on a very hot afternoon:
THREE STEPS, ONE BOW / GOLD MOUNTAIN CULTIVATION IS: no talking no drinking only prayer no looking no smoking only shame no joking no lying down only reflection no watching no relaxing only others no self no hiding
Disciple Heng Sure
bows in respect
Saturday, June 11
Dear Shih Fu,
Bowing through the grease and oil, broken glass and grime of the asphalt does a messy number on the robe and yi (sash) . . . grease "monk-yi's."
At the Beach. From behind, a little voice, "Hey, mister, aren't you unbarrassing yourself?" We keep bowing. Again, "Hey, mister, what are you doin'?" "We're Buddhist Monks. We're praying," I answer him. "What are you doing?" "Watching you be dumb," he answers without hestitation.
Looking over to my left I see oodles of people in swimming suits playing vollyball, sunbathing, swimming, surfing, sailing, eating - just plain old Saturday afternoon good times at the ocean. I start looking pretty "dumb" to myself sometimes. Baking in this hot sun under T'ang Dynasty robes, picking glass and gravel out of my hands and forehead . . . that water looks so inviting though, and we still look "dumb". Then I remember my vows and how clear and happy my heart was when I make them; and suddenly the bowing and the gravel and the broken glass feel right at home. Never been happier, never looked more "dumb". The Avatamsaka says, " . . . all happiness in the world is suffering." We are finding the converse is just as true: all suffering of cultivation is happiness.
Disciple Heng Ch'au
bows in reverence.