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HENG CH’AU: May 10, 1977. Less flack this morning. The gas station we used for toilet purposes had a kindly old man who turned out to be a close-minded Bible man who tried to convince me I worshipped false gods. In between toilet breaks he had obviously put together a monologue and was ready to deliver some hell or high water. It was liking talking to your radio—all transmission. Luckily I found an escape. “Excuse me but I have to stay close to the other monk. Take care.” Zip!
Phuong Kuo Wu, Woo Kuo Hsiang, and Leonora Tsiang brought lunch to an abandoned lot. They are gracious and kind. They were out last night looking for us. Receiving their food and bows makes one ashamed of not working harder and spurs one on. The next 3 or 4 days we will be passing through one of the roughest neighborhoods in L.A. An upasaka has offered his driveway for evenings. We accept rather than cause more trouble like last night. To put ourselves in a situation where it’s real likely someone is going to try to do us in does no one any good.
One upasika is 69 years old. For years she was a devout Buddhist but then got sent to an Episcopal school and was made into a Christian. She never believed in Buddhism again because she couldn’t find any true practice or cultivation. She says: “Then I met Shi Fu. He doesn’t talk much. His thought is deep. His eyes do the talking. For me to bow to anyone is hard, but to Shih Fu it’s easy. There’s something there. I can’t explain it.” Beyond words, the heart and the true substance merge.
Boys come by and pelt us with a rock offering. Macho. If I had been more on top of it I would have noticed the rocks and bottles in their hands and offered them the marshmallows. I’ve got to keep my eyes open. These were just kids with rocks, but next time… Can’t relax!
There is no clear-cut right of passage in this culture from boy to man, from girl to woman. So they get uptight and real difficult in the teen years. Looking for tests, ways to measure independence, strength, maturity. They know too much so they get perverted—put on a false macho front, and try to be tough. They have no real models or heroes with any virtue or substance that they can look to. It must be weird for them to watch those women bowing and offering food to two road grubby monks in an abandoned parking lot they drink and grow up in.
Bowed through tight, mellow Mexican neighborhood with no bars. Together family and community here. No questions, no hassle. It’s just like we weren’t there or like a gentle wind passed through.
Hsia Ching-shan and his family, the Woos, Alice Wong, etc. help us a lot. They drive back and forth, buy good, wash clothes, get key from upasaka so we can bathe in his house, etc. They got us a permit sticker from the police for the car to be on the streets overnight, but we can’t sleep in the car. The cops know about us and told one upasika that they would look for us if we did try to sleep in the car and bother us until we leave.
Our car, which we must use until we get out of the city, serves us in this way: the ashtray and glove compartment are our wooden fish, incense burner, and altar. The back end of the van is our Ch’an hall, Buddha hall, sleeping room, and library. We camp in the garage behind one upasika’s house. We do evening recitation on the way there--the 88 Buddha repentence--me at the wheel, incense going in the ashtray, and Heng Sure in back hitting a thermo cup to keep the ceremony going. We are really into maintaining a pure and scheduled Bodhimanda. It’s the nucleus and source of our going and coming--it’s just like at Gold Mountain, but it’s up to us to maintain it here.
This is the rap I give people who ask what we are doing: 1) Personal--getting rid of greed, hatred, and stupidity; 2) Larger perspective--getting rid of some bad vibes. Take on suffering to end suffering and disasters of all. 3) Larger scope--top the creation of weapons that kill millions. 4) Bowing to the Buddhas to be compassionate.
New stuff: I am finding it easy and important to be a monk. To be reverent and mindful every minute. Not the “wham bang bust ‘em” vigor like I am sued to, but rather like the quiet, calm but ceaseless constancy of a quiet ocean beach (waves keep coming). It is easier with less attachment now. I feel less and less doubtful, even at 4 a.m. Hardly any fear and more stillness, patience, and evenness of energy. Bowing is my method now and it’s wonderful!
Young people are open to our trip and to Buddhism. Had a good exchange with some boys yesterday about celibacy, parents, kung fu, precepts, one meal a day, etc. They poke and tease the male in you; if you don’t move then they respect and draw near. If you move, it’s all over and they have a circus. “Hare Krishna!”
People think Heng Sure is physically ill, worry he won’t be able to find San Francisco, and wonder, always wonder… People are touched somewhere inside beyond it all in a mysterious and subtle way. I see it in their faces, how they gather to watch, the ways they move and leave as we pass. It is deep.