Three Steps One Bow

Dear Shih Fu,

We're taking our midday meal in the back of the Plymouth. Outside it's blowing cold and swirls of dust clouds. An old, feeble woman slowly staggers to her seat in the car parked behind us. She grips the car for support. Her gait is stiff and unsteady. Eyes and ears are failing. Her world, who could know it? She looks up slowly and fixes her gaze out to sea. A bowl of food sits in her lap. It doesn't interest her. As she shifts around in the car, the windshield glare makes it seem like she disappeared. Alt that can be seen is the reflection of overhead passing white clouds where once the old woman was.

Her daughter, and her daughter's daughter are with her. In their faces you can see how beauty and health fade and wither by themselves in a few short seasons. The three of them are like different steps in the life of the same person. Everything speaks the Dharma. I look at my own body and the food I'm eating. Then I look back at the reflection of shifting white clouds in the car window. "Thus it is." I think everything is impermanent and temporary. What seems solid and secure today, tomorrow drifts away and disappears like the clouds. Everything speaks the Dharma, "Hurry up and cultivate. The temporary flies. There is so little time. Be swift and head for the true." Every night we end our day with,

          "This day has already passed,
             And life is thereby decreased,
          Like fish in evaporating water,
             What joy is there in this!?
          Be diligent and vigorous as
             if rescuing your head.
          Be mindful of impermanence.
             Be careful not to be lax."

Tonight as we sing this verse I'll remember the old woman. I'll remember the pine cone
that fell from a tree and the blackberries drying up on the vines alongside the road. I'll remember seeing that my own body is just like the reflection of passing clouds in a car window. I'll remember too, everyone bowing together after the meal--even the old woman who stood tall and reverent in the cold wind with folded hands because her legs could no longer bend to bow.

Anchor Bay
August 13, 1979

Dear Shih Fu,

      This letter has a title:

      Skunk or monk? Bathroom or Buddhahall?
      Our thoughts and deeds decide it a1l
               THE JANITOR REPORTS:

      "Moreover there are animals/In odious
      and repugnant shapes. Which all come
      from their bad karma/ and they suffer
      an eternity of affliction."