Walkabout

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.