July of 1970

Was he even human?
once when he was greeting an old friend
I stole a look into his eyes
and felt myself
falling through endless space
it scared me shitless

But how comforting his presence was
during the weeks of sitting, chanting
learning the initial steps and language
of the practice

The room we sat in
with its Chinese screens
of faded red and gold
had once been dedicated to Tin Hou
Empress of Heaven
watchful guardian of sailors
of the immigrants who risked
passage from China to Gold Mountain
that is, San Francisco

A room now taken over
by Buddhas and Bodhisattvas
where the Abbot
Master Hua would stand
as pigeons flew in
through the windows
landing on his shoulders
eating from his hands
to our amazement and delight

He would feed them
from a jar of corn seed
ruffling their tailfeathers
to their great consternation
laughting all the while
to let us know he knew
we were no different in our greed
for what it was we'd come for
what it was he had to offer

He was the first and only
human being I had ever met
who seemed to me
entirely beyond fear

His fearlessness inspired me
with the courage that it took
to leave the path
I'd followed all my life
to jump ship so to speak
and choose the artist's lot
not knowing how I'd ever manage

The nuns seemed to have found in him
a wise and loving father
a spiritual guide
to whom they could
entrust their lives

His teachings and his stories
were what kept me there
those weeks
though I was never
drawn to a monastic life

After a time I'd been away
he asked me why
I didn't come around
and I said something flip about
keeping the Wayplace
here inside of me

He laughed and said
what's this inside and outside
no such thing exists
if I'd been ready that might well
have been my moment
but instead it's been the riddle
I'm still working on
I suppose some of us
are simply slow to learn

Once I heard him say
in death he'd be
returning to the stars
over the years I've also come
to think that passage in that way

After his nirvana
I joined the hundreds
maybe thousands
that came from far
and wide to pay respects

Chanting the name of Amitaba
we walked around his coffin
fitted with a little window
and a light to see inside
every now and then someone
would step out from the line
look in and bow in reverence

So I though now he's dead
and finally it's safe to gaze
into his face
but when I did
I felt I'd been again
struck by a bolt of lightning

It makes me smile to think
of that brief moment
my last earthly interaction
with the man who more
than any other made
my life here possible