I initially decided not to chronicle this endeavor in a personal journal or blog because I've found that my journaling sometimes starts to take over the experience itself. I start to think too much about how I will describe an event, and this often detracts from the experience itself. Also, the ego can co-opt virtually anything in an unhealthy way, and since this latest journey is partly an effort to loosen some of the fetters of my ego, I felt that it would be best not to tempt it with a blog with which to puff itself up even more.

However, friends and others have had many questions, and with sporadic internet access, I have found it difficult to respond adequately. A general blog would help address this issue. Plus, I feel that a record of my experiences may be beneficial, especially since I have such a lousy memory.

So, I will try to be succinct and vigilant, and if this chronicle starts to take up too much time or effort, or my sneaky ego seizes it as its own, then I will gladly pull the plug. (Please feel free to point out any excesses you may see yourselves.)

And yet, as Ajahn Pasanno, abbot of Abhayagiri Monastery (Buddhist), once told me, "Whatever stand you take, it will be the stand of the ego. All you can really do is laugh!" And so, in that spirit I will begin this record, for the ego is not the enemy, and by embracing it as a friend perhaps I can loosen its primary role as my master.

So, what's the deal?
I've hit the road with a broom and a bowl and a backpack. I have no money and have taken on "robes" (a blue "samue" actually, originally zen monk work clothes). I will clean up public places (streets, parks, parking lots, etc.) and see if people will support me by putting food in my bowl which has a sign on it: "Food only, please. Thank you." I expect to depend on homeless shelters and soup kitchens as well. And, despite the fact that I'm calling this a "walkabout", I don't intend to walk everywhere I go---I hope to hitch some rides along the way too.

I have not told my family because my mother would worry tremendously and I've caused her enough worries in life already.

Day 1

Friday the 13th, July, 2007 (I actually like Friday the 13ths because I was born on one): I left the Omega Institute near Rhinebeck in upstate New York at 11:30am on foot, heading south. The instant I stepped off the institute grounds, a doe and her fawn walked calmly across the road.

Walking those quiet shady back roads was just the antidote to the anxiety I was feeling about this whole endeavor. Goodbyes to friends at the institute had been a bit rushed since most of them were working the hectic Friday transition day schedule.

First rest stop: Pleasant Plains Cemetery. Always good for a monk (even if he's only a pseudo-monk) to reflect on Death, our last rest stop.

I walked for approximately five hours to Hyde Park, cleaning a few places by the roadside along the way. I spent most of the evening cleaning a large parking lot by the Amish Market grocery store. No one gave me any food, though hardly anyone saw my bowl either because I tried to keep it near wherever I was cleaning, which was rarely right by the store entrance. The first person to see my bowl---a woman with her children---actually gasped when she read my sign, pulled her children close, and hurried away. I was not feeling overly optimistic at this point.
However, a young man did offer to buy me dinner at a nearby Chinese restaurant if I would buy his beer for him because he "forgot his ID at home". Ah, a moral dilemma so soon! I declined his generous offer.

Quote: "Uhhh...err...we actually hired someone this morning to clean our parking lot."
---Rite-Aid manager responding to my request to clean his parking lot (I resolved not to ask beforehand anymore)

I went to sleep behind the Dollar Store, pondering if I was insane, naive, or just stupid.

A curious deer woke me up in the middle of the night.

Day 2

I woke up Saturday morning just before a kind fellow by the name of Frank started mowing the area where I'd been sleeping behind the Dollar Store. He told me that he had formerly been homeless himself and that I could get a free lunch a few miles down the road in Poughkeepsie. After finishing mowing, he came back a few minutes later to tip me off that the police had me surrounded, covering all of my potential exits.

I finished packing up and a policeman finally made an appearance. He asked what I was doing and ran a check on my California driver's license. My explanation that I was a wandering beggar monk caused that pinched quizzical look that I have since come to know so well, but my answer was apparently sufficient and he told me not to sleep there that night and left when he saw that I was moving on.

I decided to start cleaning up another nearby parking lot. A half hour later I received my very first donation from a woman working at a laundromat! She was curious about my cleaning, and after I told her what I was up to she tried to give me money. When I explained that I don't take money, she proceeded to buy me food from the snack vending machines in the laundromat: Pepsi, Cheese Puffs, Oreo cookies, Chex Mix, popcorn, and Doritos chips. Junk food? Heck no!---manna from heaven! I decided to try to look upon those who help me, like Frank and this laundromat woman, as my angels. It goes well with the yogic concept of the "upaguru", the teacher that dwells within all people, things, and experiences.

A half hour later I received another donation, this time anonymous because someone put a bag on my begging bowl when I wasn't looking. Inside was a can of "Beef and Vegetable" soup, a jello cup, a cup of apple sauce, and.....$20 bucks! I looked around for who might have given this to me so that I could return the money, but there was nobody around.
I finished cleaning the parking lot and then headed for Poughkeepsie. It took me about four hours, cleaning a few spots along the way.

I arrived in the late afternoon and soon met Chris (female), Maurice, and Everald (Jamaican fellow) outside the Family Partnership Center, a community center that also helps the homeless. All three of them are homeless and were all too happy to show the new guy the ropes, even if he was dressed a little weird. They took me to a downtown church for a free Saturday night spaghetti dinner.

Then we hung out until 9pm when we were taken in vans to the overnight homeless shelter located at the Hudson River Psychiatric Center with about 40 other people (approx. 35 men, 5 women). Most of us men were packed into a large room and the women were in a nearby open hallway area.

We made our bunk beds with clean linen provided for us, ate a dinner of bologna sandwiches, peaches (!), and kool-aid, took turns washing up (the men use one bathroom that has two showers, two sinks, and one toilet), and then it's lights out at around 10:30pm.
Wake up time in the morning is 5:30am.

Quote: "Tell me he ain't got issues!" --- a homeless man to his friend regarding me

Day 3, Sunday

At the homeless shelter we were woken up at 5:30am. We stripped down the beds, washed up, and ate breakfast from an assortment of dried cereals. Then we were taken back to the Family Partnership Center, specifically a room (with a kitchen attached) called "The Living Room". This room is about 20 feet by 40 feet with black vinyl sofas arranged in rows facing the front of the room like pews in a church. And at the front, of course, is a television. But almost everybody was too tired to care about the TV. They filled up the sofas and tried to sleep in creative sitting positions because they aren't allowed to lie down. Initially I was feeling pretty claustrophobic in this jammed room, especially since I was the newest sardine in the can, but I soon got distracted when someone decided to play the movie "Alien vs. Predator" at 7:30am.

Then someone announced that the church people were here to take any of us that wanted to go to Sunday services. I decided to attend because I am trying to open my mind up to various forms of practice and worship....and perhaps because "Seed of Chucky" was just about to start.

Four of us decided to attend and we were loaded into a min-van and whisked off to the Full Gospel Family Life Center by a very friendly and talkative fellow named Louie. At the church we were warmly welcomed and placed in the front row. I was struck by how much the place resembled the church in the irreverent movie "Borat". And then we were treated to an amazingly rocking and heartfelt show by a ten piece band with Pastor Rick dishing out some screaming solos on lead guitar. We were all up, clapping, waving our hands in the air, and singing along throughout the performance. And then Pastor Rick delivered an emotional and entertainingly histrionic sermon on "God's Secret"---that the path to heaven is through his son Jesus (surprise!)---to a constant chorus of "Amen"s and "Hallelujah"s. After the sermon we were greeted again and given cookies in the "Welcoming Room" and everyone diplomatically ignored my robes.

After returning to the Living Room, we headed to a small cafeteria in the same building called "The Lunch Box" which provides free lunches to the homeless and poor. Not bad---beans with a nice mix of vegetables all over rice.

I went to the local library to try to use the internet (successful) and later met up with Maurice for a walk along the Poughkeepsie waterfront next to the Hudson River. Then, in Waryas Park, I saw a fellow with a chess set and a sign reading "Free Chess Games". His name is Iraj and he was born in Iran. We played a few games over a couple of hours, then I headed back to the pick up point and we all repeated the same routine as the previous night at the homeless shelter.

"Contentment happens when you no longer have any buttons for anyone to push."
---Pastor Rick (a very Buddhist moment)

"I can walk in the church backwards and naked cuz I'm here for Jesus! I don't have to care what anybody else thinks."
---Louie, venturing another take on liberation

Day 4 and beyond

This was a weekday morning, so instead of getting rides from the homeless shelter by van, we were given bus vouchers for the journey back into Poughkeepsie. I opted to get off at the Home Depot so that I could use the $20 anonymous donation given to me back in Hyde Park to buy a long-handled stand-up dustpan because my back is starting to hurt from all the bending over I've been doing with the small dustpan.

An elderly black couple gave me a lift back into the city. At one point we had to stop for a fawn that stood calmly in the middle of the road. (A friend tells me that deer are auspicious signs for travelers.) They lamented the decline of Poughkeepsie, describing the good old days of block parties, city fireworks, and "when kids were good".

The rest of the day and the following days take on a similar form:

We come in from the shelter early in the morning and hang out at The Living Room.
I go to the library when it opens at 9am to read and use the internet computers.
In the afternoon, I head to Waryas Park to clean up and meditate a little.
In the evening, I sometimes play chess with Iraj and then he gives me a ride to the pick up point for the homeless shelter.
On some evenings, various churches provide simple meals and prayer sessions at the pick up point.

I still put my begging bowl out when I sweep and clean, and occasionally I receive food---a bag of Ritz crackers, some ice cream from the concession stand, and one evening a sweet woman took my bowl and brought it back half full of macaroni and cheese. It's a very big bowl, so she must have made a Kraft family pack or something, but this worked out great because I was able to share the food with a couple of illegal aliens who aren't allowed into the shelter (no ID) and therefore don't get a regular dinner. She also gave us some green beans, popcorn, Lifesaver candy, and the book "When I Praise God---A Prayer Book for Christian Women".

One night I met Mustafa and Henry playing chess in the park. After a few games, they invited me to come help clean up their mosque the next day. The next morning I accompanied Mustakeem (sp?) in a dumptruck up to Kingston to dump a lot of garbage at a landfill. On the journey, we discussed our spiritual practices---he calls his "surrender to God (Allah)",  while I call mine "surrender to Truth". We concluded that they are pretty much the same practice since God and Truth are fairly interchangeable. The next afternoon I cleaned the backyard of the mosque and listened in on some discussions of faith.

One day, the staff at the Living Room took about 40 of us on an outing to Lake Taghkanic Park. It was a gorgeous day and a nice respite from the city, but it was a little surreal for me because we chose almost the same spot as my Omega Institute staff outing exactly two weeks before this trip.

"I live free and I will die free!" ---Calvin ("The Landlord") responding to other homeless people making fun of him playing air guitar and dancing by himself to his radio. (not just a sermon for me this time, but an actual practice of liberation)

"What I don't understand about the Titanic is that Kate Winslet died as an old lady, yet I know for a fact that she's still young and is actually still alive!" ---Daniella

"If I can't have me no women, then I don't want to go!" ---heated discussion at the mosque regarding heaven

small broom
long-handled stand-up dustpan
begging bowl (with sign: "Food only, please. Thank you.")
small backpack (daypack)
straw sun hat
blue samue (robes)
sandals
tennis shoes
a few shirts, underwear, socks, and pair of shorts
work gloves
canvas bag (for trash)
light rain jacket
collapsible umbrella
fleece blanket
compact air mattress
headband flashlight
toiletry bag
tennis racket (with sign: "Will play tennis or chess for food too.")
miniature chess set
Book: Zen Heart, Zen Mind by Father AMA Samy who runs Bodhi Zendo in Southern India
California driver's license
address book
sunglasses
watch
spoon, knife, swiss army knife
Burger King Star Wars Yoda action figure (he works like a Magic 8 Ball, giving Yoda answers like "Use the Force" or "No the Answer is")

Note: The Peace Pilgrim carried only a comb and a toothbrush in her pocket.

I went to the tennis club here in Poughkeepsie one morning and managed to play with a nice woman for a while even though I wasn't a member. But I realized that as well as being a hassle to carry around, my tennis racket also made me a bit more of a target here on the streets. So I gave it to my good friend Rebecca who came to visit me one day from Rhinebeck. It felt like it had been a month since I'd left even though it had only been a week---not because life was suddenly more challenging, but because I'd been doing so many different things in different places with different people. It was a nice respite and I was sad to see her go.


"I just steal one from somebody else to balance the karmic debt."
---homeless friend named Marty, responding to my question of how he replaced the nine bikes that have been stolen from him over the past year and a half.