(This post was last modified: 04-21-2017, 01:00 AM by KAV. Edit Reason: edit )
1957 Kav has a nightmare and turns on the late show with an Arizona Monsoon booming outside. I watch Lost Horizons and movie and book become my alternative world much like LOTR to others.
1967 Visiting family in San Francisco I go to Sausalito and slip on the wet docks knocking the wind out me. This precursor of Obi Wan Kenobi; beard, briar pipe, black kimono and English accent looms over me with a helping hand. Hello, my name is Allan, are you alright? Finding my breath I nod and introduce myself. We talk about seabirds, the ocean, smells and sounds and how marvelous it all is.
1970 The lady down the street who owns Simi Valley's only 'hippie headshop' invites me to greet a holy man arriving at LAX. I'm dressed in western togs from a horseback riding lesson with Yakima Canute's daughter over at Joel McCrea's ranch. A handful of greeters meet His Holyness the 14th Dalai Lama. The presentation of Katas evokes laughter as he asks me to bend down ( I'm six feet five in my high heal boots) lower please, lower, lower-ah good.
1971 I am asked to drive a refugee monk up to see the snow to ease his homesickness. I have my grandmother's passed down silver 2door 1966 Chrysler 300 when the family feared my english cars would get me killed. Everyone else drove VW bugs. I installed charger headers, a dual 4 barrel carb manifold and dual pipe glasspacks on the 440 cubic engine with HD Highway Patrol suspension parts; A veeeeery safe car.
We drive up to Pearblossom and I put on l snowchains. Rinpoche is looking intently at a small sign 'Saint Andrew's Priory' and forcefully tells me to go there. We pull in and I see a monk in brown habit. Rinpoche runs toward him and then both are running and embracing. They both share permanently injured wrists from being shackled in a chicom prison. We have lunch, drive to the snow together and return for a late evening catholic mass. Temples or cathedrals; it's all 'bells and smells' and AUM MANE PADME HUM and KIERIE ELIIASON both work for me.
1977 I'm doing eight hour graveyard watches on two decommissioned cutters. The service wanted me out of sight and mind and it was mutual. I slept days and had weekends off. I have a Japanese transister radio in my peacoat listening to KPFA and my old friend ALLAN is lecturing on Buddhism. It's
Allan Watts who largely introduced eastern thought to the beat generation. I go to City Lights bookstore and buy a dozen of his titles. A petty officer wrote me up for reading him because ' you do know he promoted LSD?'
I am separated and enter Tassajara Zendo for 3 months. I go to University.
1991 My old Roshi asks me to represent them just as the Tibetan Buddhist center gifts me a special greeting with His Holiness before a huge Hollywood bowl lecture. I pull out my old Soto black Juban and wear it driving my RHD Mini Cooper. The Dalai Lama enters, makes eye contact and begins laughing, pointing to my head asking 'no more John Wayne?' You have made progress in his german accented English. I receive a second kata
and this autographed photo; which he also thinks is a funny custom but enjoys making people happy.
2016 THE, not A brush comes into my care and the Lotus design and two colours holds all the ups and downs, lessons and treasured memories of my spiritual stroll ( I aint on no stinkin journey ) through life. Everywhere I turn it's the 'Zen' of this or that until it's as meaningless as 'have a nice day'
and anemic guru guys with depressed testosterone lecturing at NEW AGE bookstores tell me my chakras are out of alignment and for $100 they can make me one with the universe or something. I only smile like the Buddha and move on. BUT shaving of all the damned nonsense 24/7 IS A MEDITATION and my brush a blessed holy object. Red and yellow buddhist monk, brown and black badger hair catholic one unit, superb, perfect.
1967 Visiting family in San Francisco I go to Sausalito and slip on the wet docks knocking the wind out me. This precursor of Obi Wan Kenobi; beard, briar pipe, black kimono and English accent looms over me with a helping hand. Hello, my name is Allan, are you alright? Finding my breath I nod and introduce myself. We talk about seabirds, the ocean, smells and sounds and how marvelous it all is.
1970 The lady down the street who owns Simi Valley's only 'hippie headshop' invites me to greet a holy man arriving at LAX. I'm dressed in western togs from a horseback riding lesson with Yakima Canute's daughter over at Joel McCrea's ranch. A handful of greeters meet His Holyness the 14th Dalai Lama. The presentation of Katas evokes laughter as he asks me to bend down ( I'm six feet five in my high heal boots) lower please, lower, lower-ah good.
1971 I am asked to drive a refugee monk up to see the snow to ease his homesickness. I have my grandmother's passed down silver 2door 1966 Chrysler 300 when the family feared my english cars would get me killed. Everyone else drove VW bugs. I installed charger headers, a dual 4 barrel carb manifold and dual pipe glasspacks on the 440 cubic engine with HD Highway Patrol suspension parts; A veeeeery safe car.
We drive up to Pearblossom and I put on l snowchains. Rinpoche is looking intently at a small sign 'Saint Andrew's Priory' and forcefully tells me to go there. We pull in and I see a monk in brown habit. Rinpoche runs toward him and then both are running and embracing. They both share permanently injured wrists from being shackled in a chicom prison. We have lunch, drive to the snow together and return for a late evening catholic mass. Temples or cathedrals; it's all 'bells and smells' and AUM MANE PADME HUM and KIERIE ELIIASON both work for me.
1977 I'm doing eight hour graveyard watches on two decommissioned cutters. The service wanted me out of sight and mind and it was mutual. I slept days and had weekends off. I have a Japanese transister radio in my peacoat listening to KPFA and my old friend ALLAN is lecturing on Buddhism. It's
Allan Watts who largely introduced eastern thought to the beat generation. I go to City Lights bookstore and buy a dozen of his titles. A petty officer wrote me up for reading him because ' you do know he promoted LSD?'
I am separated and enter Tassajara Zendo for 3 months. I go to University.
1991 My old Roshi asks me to represent them just as the Tibetan Buddhist center gifts me a special greeting with His Holiness before a huge Hollywood bowl lecture. I pull out my old Soto black Juban and wear it driving my RHD Mini Cooper. The Dalai Lama enters, makes eye contact and begins laughing, pointing to my head asking 'no more John Wayne?' You have made progress in his german accented English. I receive a second kata
and this autographed photo; which he also thinks is a funny custom but enjoys making people happy.
2016 THE, not A brush comes into my care and the Lotus design and two colours holds all the ups and downs, lessons and treasured memories of my spiritual stroll ( I aint on no stinkin journey ) through life. Everywhere I turn it's the 'Zen' of this or that until it's as meaningless as 'have a nice day'
and anemic guru guys with depressed testosterone lecturing at NEW AGE bookstores tell me my chakras are out of alignment and for $100 they can make me one with the universe or something. I only smile like the Buddha and move on. BUT shaving of all the damned nonsense 24/7 IS A MEDITATION and my brush a blessed holy object. Red and yellow buddhist monk, brown and black badger hair catholic one unit, superb, perfect.