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HENG CH’AU: June 11, 1977. Bowing through the grease and oil, broken glass and grime of the asphalt does a number on the robe and yi…grease monk yis.
Bowing through hundred of surfers near Malibu. In the time it takes to complete one bow a wave and surfer have risen and fell.
"Hey sir, what is that you’re doing?"
Hand him a release. "Oh. Well far out."
Monk: "It’s like surfing with the mind."
Surfer: "Well keep it up--stay at it. Good luck."
Another group: "I’ll bet they’re on 500 hits of acid. You guys want some dope?"
Another group. Watch a long time. Finally two walk over and ask. Give them a release. They return to the group and within minutes a heated, heavy philosophical discussion is going, the surfboards waiting, leaning against the VW buses. "Yeah but in Western society…" trails off.
Three young surfers walk by carrying their boards. "What a way to waste a day, bowing!"
"Let’s go to Malibu."
"Hey, come on."