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HENG CH’AU: May 9, 1977. Still pouring through night and this morning. Thunder. Bowed inside again. Waiting for final instructions from Shih Fu. We will leave when Shih Fu leaves.
Bowing: Again the image of the body--one large body—all of us. If one part of the body is sick the rest doesn’t split and ignore it; it works together or breaks down together. There is no self that is immune, that can hide or be private. What goes around comes around. Yu must heal yourself and share strength and light. Sick parts resist treatment; it hurts at first to be touched.
7:00 PM: Whew! That was the toughest day I can remember. Saw Shih Fu off at the airport. Alone, we are on our own. Heng Sure is trying not to talk. Pouring, pouring rain. Huge threatening clouds. We go back to Gold Wheel Temple, get our gear, and head off in the 1958 Plymouth wagon to solo. Where do we begin? In a tough, rundown main drag of a Mexican American neighborhood where there are drunks, and macho-looking tough kids. Oh, this is really tough. It takes all the courage I can muster. Two scared kids pretending it’s no big deal. Before we even start the groups are forming to check this weird number out. The second bow I am tapped on the shoulder from behind. A drunken, huge main says, “Hey, what you makin’ with dis?” I feebly try to explain. He’s about seven inches from my face. He slowly pulls out his wallet. Ah, our first donation? No. An oversentimentalized picture of Jesus with long wavy hair. He keeps shaking it in front of my nose, nodding and waiting. “A really holy person,” says I, “excuse me now, I’ve got to keep up with my friend.”
A car whizzes by, souped up and packed, full of men. “You got till sundown to be out of our neighborhood.”
Oh, Shih Fu, only three minutes out and already. We plug on, even though more groups are forming ahead as the word spread. “You’ll never get anywhere that way.” “Hey, Joe, they’re blessing your gas station.” Some walk by like we were old Popsicle sticks—no notice. As we get closer to each group they split, go inside, make an opening, watching cautiously. I notice it’s stopped raining just as we started bowing. But we are covered with mud and grim and water from the sidewalk.s “Hey, kick ‘em in the ass when they bend over! Ha! Ha!” One tough runs up and brushes between us. We keep bowing. (Typist’s note: 4 lines are missing from the book at the end of page 6 – Volume 1). spread apart. One runs up and pats us on the heads. The other say, “Hey, man, let ‘em be; they ain’t doin’ nothin’.” Through we go. Soon the two toughest are stalking from behind. How hard to keep my back to them and go on reciting. Finally the monster comes along side. “Hey, sir, can I ask what you’re doin’?” I nod and finish bowing. I explain we’re Buddhist monks and this is one of the ways we pray—it’s a pilgrimage to bring some peace to ourselves and the world.
“All the way to Ukiah? How long will that take?”
“About a year.”
“Wow! That’s somethin’. Don’t he talk?”
“No, he’s concentrating, praying. I carry the gear, cook, talk to folks, drive, etc.”
“You got the hard job.” They are moved. Something soft and genuine is coming out.
“Well gotta go, we have to get some rest.”
“Peace to you.” He says and crosses us with his blessing. “Take care.”
I can feel the protection around. Heng Sure’s silence is powerful. If we can keep sincere and careful we’ll have a much better chance to deal with things.