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HENG CH’AU: June 22, 1977. Last night a "body fairy" must have come and taken my body, leaving me another. When I woke up this A.M. a totally recognizable new body was around me. I hope this one knows how to bow once every three steps better than the last one. My body hasn’t felt so overhauled and pounded since learning how to walk. Actually learning is just remembering. And remembering how to walk is less painful than remembering how to bow.
When I was small, old beggars and hobos used to beg for food at our back door. They never went away empty and they never just took. My sisters and I always felt we got something from these men--a sense of wonder and a little feel for realities other than our small, dozy little world. Where did they come from and go to? Did they have families? Kids? Were they happy or ever afraid outside at night? These questions went back and forth between us as we dressed for school and ate dinner at night. For years I haven’t seen any of these men. I figured they died out or got edged out by social welfare and slim pickings.
While bowing, however, I’ve seen two so far. One was in a park near Dodger Stadium. His bike leaning against a true, he looked to see if anyone was looking and then jumped and grabbed a supple limb and swung up and down, smiling like a kid. The other was in Malibu jumping in and out of garbage bins in front of an apartment complex looking for treasures and maybe food.
They still sparked the same questions and as sense of wonder in me just as I imagine we must, bowing little ripples into the homogenous and predictable rhythms of life and things.
I realized it was I who got way-laid, not the old men. University life, jobs, hustling here and there had taken me away from a lot of different worlds. Each day of bowing once every three steps I am rediscovering more and more of these other worlds, and, inside, in my mind are the strangest of all.
Alice and her daughter, Kuo Wu, and Leonora made a lunch and food supply offering. Had a good conversation about "waste now, want later" and karma. I think the little girl understood it clearer than all of the adults put together.
I found a frightened, wounded ladybug frantically scrambling for shelter--stumbling and turning over. Picked it up, said a quiet mantra, and put him/her on a plant. It worked; she relaxed.
Two lizards were having a bitter fight on the other side of this fence we were bowing along. Suddenly one broke free and scurried through the fence and sat motionless about two feet away watching us bow. Gave it the Refuge Ceremony and Bodhisattva vows after which it shot back through the fence and disappeared.
Slowly rising from a bow on open highway I hear "honk, honk"--real loud, real close. As I lift my head I see a 4-wheel drive truck has jumped the curbing and is coming about 50 mph right at me. I notice only at the moment it veers back on the road--only 2 or 3 feet from my head. I can feel the feat of the engine and see the cavities in the smiling driver’s teeth. It was real close. There wasn’t enough time to feel fear. It happened so fast it was as if it didn’t happen.
A motorcyclist stops. "Saw you a few weeks ago in L.A." We talk shortly. "Buddhist monks, huh? Far out. Listen, I want to give you some money. Looks like you could use it. Thank you, good luck." Vroom!
A man in a beat up jeep stops at our last bow before lunch. "You had lunch? Here." And hands out two candy bars. He chews and reads a release. "Saw you meditating by the road last night…I’m into Zen myself." We note that Ch’an, Zen, and Dhyana are all the same. "The way I see it, it’s the only hope for the world. Have a good journey."
My "marks"--what you see that stinks is "me" and all mine. What is admirable is "not me" or "mine," it is the Way that appears when "I" am gone. I have no merit or virtue. Any good qualities are just "no self" and belong to the eternally dwelling Buddhanature. Who owns that? There is no accomplishing, just merging with the original pure substance, the Way. Emptying is the work so the Way can flow through.
Never went "back to earth" because I knew I needed a teacher. It’s too easy to get lost. Didn’t know enough to cultivate without guidance.