Bowing Journals | Top | << Back | Next >> | End
HENG SURE: May 15, 1977. Our pace is slow in the 3 PM post-lunch afternoon. False thoughts drift in and out. How glad I am that the first protector who volunteered did not come along. He was someone people disliked out of the blue, so negative were his affinities with people.
We get our share of potential fights, but they fizzle out even though it’s close each time. I start to get uptight fantasizing a kick in the head or someone pulling up in a car and a gun going off or hordes of Christian shouters giving us a hard time, teasing and yelling, “Do you believe in Jesus?” into the air. Then a suited, briefcase-carrying businessman passes by and says, “Peace be with you, brother,” and he meant it. I had been tugging on my robe, getting annoyed with it and irritated at the wind and the heat when his words came and totally penetrated my mood. I realized how unpeaceful I had been. My head opened like a window. Yes, just be at peace with all of it, the cars, the fear, the wind, the crushed ants, the lunch situation, the work. Thanks, mister. If you had stood still I would have bowed to you. Are you by chance a transformation body of the Abbott?