Ripples Following Ripples ~ TRAVELS
IN NORTH AMERICA
In
mid-February, ’99, Hoa drove me to the airport,
and there I ran into a problem: my one-way ticket
to the US was unacceptable, and I had to get another,
but as it was fully-refundable, I didn’t mind.
I was then on my way to Hawaii, unprepared for the
rough reception I got at the Immigration. Finally,
I was through. Thong Hai was waiting and took me to
his temple. He was very busy in the aged-care home
he was operating nearby, so I didn’t see much
of him. He organized several talks for me, and invited
me to join a trip he’d arranged to Big Island
~ something he did every year for his devotees ~ where
we visited a number of temples and scenic spots. Following
a local custom, he led his devotees to make offerings
to a volcano-god. He then left me with an American
monk to see some more on our own; he rented a car,
and we drove right around the island, taking two whole
days; near the end, we went by helicopter over an
active volcano-vent, and saw the lava flowing into
the sea. It was an-other first. The god didn’t
reveal himself.
Returning to Honolulu, Thong Hai arranged an all-day
harbor-cruise, which was enjoyable. On another day,
he took me to visit Pearl Harbor, and several other
places of interest. He also took me to visit a Vietnamese
who owned the largest fleet of stretch limousines
in the world. Someone else drove me around the en-tire
island. I quite enjoyed my month in Hawaii.
Flying on to Los Angeles, a welcoming-committee was
waiting for me, just as in ’84. I was surprised
at how rotund Loc and Hao had become; both
were married and had one child each. I stayed in several
places, meeting lots of people from the Camp-days
and giving several talks. Someone took me to Disneyland,
where I’d never been before, and from the way
people looked at me, it seemed they thought I was
part of the show; I was on-stage, as it were. Someone
else took me to the fascinating new Getty Museum,
where we spent several hours. On another day, I was
taken to Universal Studios, which was also
very interest-ing; we went on several virtual-reality
rides there. And on yet another day, I went to the
Brea Tar-Pits, the museum of which
houses bones of prehistoric animals that had been
trapped in the pits and had no way of getting out.
Until today, the bubbling pitch brings bones and other
things to the surface. It reminded me of the mind:
so many things are hidden there from long, long ago,
and now and then, something acts as a trigger to bring
them to the surface when we had no idea of their existence.
It was good to see Chi Phuong and Anh Dong, and their
family again. Their daughters, Thi and Yen, had both
married and had children, Thi two, and Yen one. Their
son, Kien, was still single. Yen and her husband,
Quan, invited me to stay with them.
After some inquiries, I was able to locate Paul Trinh,
and through him, his brothers, Julius and Robert;
Charles had moved to Ohio with his wife, and Simon
couldn’t be contacted. Now, Julius, and his
wife, Lan, learning that the next stop along my way
would be San Jose, offered to drive me, as they had
long wanted to visit some of their friends there.
Consequently, having informed Drs Tuan and Diep that
we would be coming, we set out, but took our time
up the coast, so got there rather late, and found
a number of people awaiting us and wanting me to give
a talk almost immediately. There was plenty of room
in the house, so Julius and Lan were also invited
to stay.
Tuan and Diep had moved here from the south, opened
a clinic, and bought a large house where they were
living with their cats. They were doing so well that
Diep asked me to guess how much they’d made
the previous year; I said I had no idea, and she said
$800,000, from which they’d had to pay $300,000
in tax!
They treated us all very kindly, and made special
efforts to help me with my diabetes, giving me medication
for months ahead (the Chinese pills had proved useless),
and preparing food very carefully for me. And, because
Lan had worked in a pharmacy before, they offered
her a job in their clinic, which she happily accepted.
Julius drove me to Palo Alto and San Francisco, and
anywhere else I wished to go, including to whatever
talks were arranged for me. Just like in ’85,
I met a number of people I’d known from before.
I had just missed the funeral of Su Ba Dam Luu, who
had died while I was in Hawaii. Her sickness had been
exacerbated by protests held outside her temple against
a monk from Vietnam who she’d invited to give
talks there; not inter-ested in what they might have
learned from him, they claimed he was a Communist,
this same silly old phobia.
Many relics had been found in her ashes, and were
on display. During the talk I gave there, I commented
on them and said that these were not the real relics
of Su Ba, and would not help them in any way; the
real relics were the example she set. They probably
didn’t understand; it was too radical for them.
While in San Jose, I made contact with the VINA family
in Min-neapolis, and they invited me to visit, so
I got a ticket and flew over there. It was nice to
see them and other people once more, and talks were
soon arranged for me in the temple.
One evening, in the temple, I gave an informal talk
to a small group of people, and someone named Tho
~ who I’d stayed with during my first visit
there in ’85 ~ took notes, which he showed me
a couple of days later. I couldn’t believe what
I read; it was so distorted, and I told him that I’d
never said such things! I don’t remember everything
I say, of course, as I say so many things to so many
people in so many places, but I do know what I would
and would not say. I was appalled! And this was someone
who was very proud of his English!
I was able to locate Chi Ba, and she came up from
Rochester to visit me; she had aged quite a bit, but
then, so had I. She told me that while she was on
a visit back to Vietnam, her apartment had caught
fire and she’d lost all her possessions, and
she hadn’t had insurance. Poor woman!
I’d contacted Toan Huynh in Cleveland, who I’d
stayed with in ’85, and he asked me over. He
met me at the airport; his only child, Diana, had
been joined by two others. But he was so busy, and
couldn’t seem to relax; he was a full-time teacher
in school, and afterwards helped his brother-in-law
at his restau-rant. He arranged talks for me in the
temple, and I was invited to become the resident-monk
there, but didn’t accept.
My visa about to expire, I went to the Immigration
Department, only to learn that the type of visa I
had couldn’t be extended. I had to act fast.
Go to Canada? I thought of it, but decided not to,
in case they wouldn’t let me back in, so bought
a round-trip ticket from Chicago to Manchester, England,
and got a bus to the Windy City, to be met by a monk
from the Quang Minh tem-ple, which had relocated since
I was last there. This monk was rather odd. First
of all, he asked if I was hungry; I wasn’t,
but he dragged me off to China-town to look for a
restaurant anyway. Not noticing a vegetarian restaurant,
he took me to a sea-food restaurant, thinking to order
vegetarian food there, but the smell was so awful
that I walked out. We then went to the vegetarian
restaurant I’d seen before, but he should have
taken me to the temple straight away, as it was late
and I was tired.
He had a strange habit, before answering a question
or saying anything, of closing his eyes and moving
his lips silently. Finally, I asked him why he did
this, and he said he needed time to think before he
spoke. Well, that’s good, but I’m sure
I wasn’t the only one who thought it was quite
weird to do it in that way.
He arranged a talk for me in that temple, and someone
else fixed one up in Phap Bao temple, which
had been established by some of the original founders
of Quang Minh, when they split off after some disagreement,
something very common. They in-vited me to stay there
when I returned from England.
I then flew out, having ordered vegetarian food for
the American Airlines flight, and when my
meal was served and I opened and looked at it, I thought
it was artificial meat ~ vege-meat stuff ~ but upon
starting on it, discovered it was the real thing:
beef! I complained, and was given a substitute meal
of bread, cheese, and salad. Not content with this,
I later wrote to the airlines to complain officially,
saying that although meat wouldn’t kill me,
it certainly killed the animal it came from, and that
if a caste-Hindu had been served beef, they might
have had a law-suit on their hands. I received a very
apologetic reply and a voucher for $200 to use against
a future AA flight! Worth a complaint, no?
Arriving in England, I found that Karin, Glen’s
second daughter, was going with someone of doubtful
character, and was already pregnant with his child.
She’d had other weirdos before; her way of attracting
them must have had something to do with her pheramones.
I soon saw through this guy, and consequently, she
wasn’t very happy with me.
Two weeks later, when I flew back into Chicago, I
had quite an unpleasant time with a young immigration
official. The first thing he said to me when I got
to his desk was, “What are you coming here for?”
I was taken aback at his abrupt tone, but said, “To
visit friends.”
“Who do you know here?” he demanded.
“I know many people here,” I replied.
“Who are they?” he persisted.
If I’d told him, he wouldn’t have known,
so I said, “Would you like to see my address
book?”
“No,” he said, and accused me of being
evasive, adding, “You can’t just come
here and crash under bridges, you know.” He’d
probably taken a dislike to my appearance. Really,
I should have noted his name and reported him.
Finally, he gave me another 3 months’ waived
visa, and let me go, saying, “Have a nice day.”
I replied, “You, too; you need one!”
This wasn’t the end. He must have alerted a
Customs official to me, as he came behind while I
was waiting for my bags at the carousel, and asked
me some more questions. They usually wait for you
go to them instead of coming to you! Really, US Immigration
officials are the rudest I’ve ever come across,
and treat people as guilty until proven innocent!
This is not just my experience; I’ve heard tales
of it from others.
This trip in the US, more than the previous one, was
really played by ear, and I often didn’t know
where my next step would be until shortly before making
it. Someone would suddenly come back into my life
after some years, and I would decide to visit; my
trip unfolded that way.
Someone from Phap Bao temple was waiting for me, and
took me there, where I met someone who asked if I’d
be prepared to go to Florida, where his parents lived.
“Why not?” I said, and so he began to
arrange things for me.
After several talks in Chicago, I returned to Cleveland
for some days. Now, before I’d left for England,
I’d already arranged with To Van Quang in
Hartford, CT., to visit there. As air-fare from Cleveland
was too high at short-notice, I opted for bus, thinking
it was a direct service; I didn’t want to have
to go via New York, having had such a bad experience
there before. But at the bus-station, I discovered
the bus went only as far as NYC, and that I would
have to transfer there. Unless I changed my mind and
went by air, I’d have to face it, and after
many hours, we pulled into NYC bus-station late; the
connection to Hartford I’d hoped to catch had
gone, and I was lucky to get on the next one, two
hours later. Fortunately, Quang was still waiting
for me, having guessed what had happened. I stayed
in his apartment, giving talks in the temple and meeting
friends both old and new, among them being Cao
Van Pha, who’d married since I last met
him, and had three daughters; his wife wasn’t
at all friendly, and I felt sorry for him, but otherwise
he was doing alright.
At the temple one night, I met Dr. Tuan’s sister,
Eunice, and her husband, Truc. A few nights later,
I met them again at dinner in someone’s house.
Quang introduced me to his bosses in the small family-run
business where he worked, and arranged to take time
off to drive me up to Montreal to visit another ex-Palawan
friend, Nguyen Ngoc Truong, whose nickname
was Bi, with whom I’d kept in touch
since we met in ’84. He met us as we came in
at night and took us to his apartment, where we met
his wife and kids. It was good to see him again; he
also took time off work to show us around Montreal;
we went up Royal Mountain (which is the meaning
of Montreal) dominating the city, and visited
Buckminster Fuller’s huge geodesic dome, among
other things. He also drove us up to Quebec City,
which was much smaller and slower than Mont-real,
with a decidedly French atmosphere. It was here that,
in 1759, the British under General Wolfe,
defeated the French forces led by General Montcalm
at the decisive battle of The Plains of Abraham; the
whole of Canada was soon thereafter ceded to Britain.
Back in Hartford, Quang then drove me to my next destination,
a small town in New Jersey, where I’d been able
to locate Bui Minh Trung, who I’d stayed
with in Norway in ’85. He had since moved to
the US and married a girl he’d met in Bataan.
They had a big new house, and I got a good welcome
from their two kids, Kathy and Kevin, about 7 and
5 at that time; Kevin’s first words to me were,
“You’re nice!” They
were nice. I spent a week with them before Dr. Diep’s
brother-in-law, John Davis, drove up from Maryland
to pick me up. Just before we left, I gave Kathy and
Kevin a crystal each, telling them they were magic
and could grant wishes, but only one each. I asked
Kevin what he would wish for, and after a moment,
he said: “I wish for another one just like this,
so I can have a second wish.” Smart kid! Later
on, he changed his mind, and said he wished I would
come to stay with them again; his wish didn’t
come true; faulty crystal!
John didn’t take me directly to his home, but
stopped on the way there to visit his parents in their
retirement home, where we stayed with them for two
days. They were remarkable people, but I was surprised
that John addressed them by their first names, Clyde
and Phoebe, something I wasn’t used to. We said
goodbye and proceeded to John’s home.
It was hot and humid, and although I’d have
preferred to stay home, John took me into Washington
D.C. by train for the July 4th fireworks display.
My instincts proved correct. It was terribly crowded
when we got out of the station, and the fireworks
display had just begun but lasted no longer than 20
minutes; spending had clearly been cut back; it was
quite disappointing, and then we had the hassle of
getting through the crowds back to the station.
John’s wife, Tam, had been meditating,
following a Tibetan lama, and had become mentally
disturbed; she said she’d heard a voice telling
her to transfer $100,000 to the teacher’s account.
It was a case of meditation become maditation;
she’d rushed into it with-out adequate preparation,
wanting to get quick results. I was sad to see her
in this state, but unless I was prepared to stay there
long enough to help her ‘detox,’ there
was little I could do.
Sogyal Rinpoche, in his book, The Tibetan Book
of Living and Dying, wrote this: “Whatever
thoughts and emotions arise in meditation, allow them
to arise and settle, like the waves in the ocean.
Whatever you find yourself thinking, let that thought
rise and settle, without any constraint. Don’t
grasp at it, feed it, or in-dulge it, don’t
cling to it, and don’t try to solidify it. Neither
follow thoughts nor invite them; be like the ocean
looking at its own waves, or the sky gazing down on
the clouds that pass across it.
“You will soon find that thoughts are like
the wind; they come and go. The secret is not to ‘think’
about the thoughts but to allow them to flow through
your mind, while keeping your mind free of afterthoughts.”
While I’d been in the north, an email reached
me from someone I’d met in Galang Camp, inviting
me to visit him in Raleigh, NC. This I did, taking
a bus from Washington. His name was Phuoc, and his
marriage had just broken down, and his parents had
come from Vietnam to see him. I stayed with him a
few days, dur-ing which he took us all out to dinner,
and while he ordered vege-tarian for me, he and his
family had meat. Phuoc also drank beer, and asked
me if I minded. Now, when people invite me to a res-taurant,
they usually eat vegetarian, too, and certainly don’t
drink beer, so I said, “What would you say if
I ate meat and drank beer? You’d be
quite surprised, wouldn’t you? You expect me
to do things you don’t or won’t do yourself,
and if I don’t do them, you become upset. It
means you’re using monks as scapegoats. I’m
sorry, but I don’t play that game.”
Something good came out of my stay there. Phuoc had
kept in touch with Nguyen Tuong Chau from
Galang, while I’d lost con-tact with him as
he’s not the best correspondent in the world;
he called him and I spoke with him, and the next day
he drove down from Virginia to visit me with his family;
it was good to see him again, and he invited me to
stay with him next time around.
From Raleigh, I passed on to Atlanta, where I stayed
with Hien in the huge ~ and I mean huge ~
new house he’d built for himself; I never discovered
what kind of business he was in, as I don’t
ask people such things, but he told me that he’d
just sold his own plane; he was from a wealthy family,
and everything he touched turned to gold. I’d
met him in Bataan in ’81, and he’d gone
to the US penniless, but lived frugally, worked hard,
doing 3 jobs at the same time, and had ~ to put it
mildly ~ prospered. His mother was visiting from England,
and it was nice to see her again; his youngest sister
had married an American Jew; Hien had been so against
this marriage that he cut her off, and I didn’t
see her, al-though she was living not too far away.
He arranged some talks for me while I was there, then
sent me on to Jacksonville, Florida, where I would
spend a few days with Toan Huynh’s brother-in-law,
Cuu and his family.
He, in turn, drove me to Orlando, to stay with relatives
of some-one I’d met in Chicago a couple of months
before; things always leads to others in chain-like
sequence, often in unexpected ways. I was about to
experience this again, when I gave a talk in one of
the temples in Orlando. In the audience were people
whose faces seemed familiar but who I couldn’t
place, until afterwards, they came and introduced
themselves: more people from Bataan. Hearing I was
coming to talk in Orlando, they’d come up from
Tampa, and invited me to go back with them. I had
a plane-ticket from Orlando to Fort Lauderdale, but
they told me they would drive me down there. I was
soon on my way to Tampa with them ~ Nga and
Lu ~ and stayed above their clothing factory.
They soon arranged for me to talk in a temple nearby,
calling people to attend on short notice. Then, Lai,
their eldest son, drove me down to Ft. Lauderdale,
to stay with the parents of Bobby, who I’d met
in Chicago. They’d arranged a couple of talks
for me, and also took me on a cruise past the houses
and yachts of the rich-and-famous, but their 12-year-old
daughter was an insufferable brat, and finally I scolded
her for being so rude to her dad. I also told her
elder brother about her when he came down to join
us.
They sent me on to stay with a doctor and his wife
in Miami ~ Hoa and Mai ~ and from
there I flew out to England again. This split-trip
in the US had been good, and I had a completely differ-ent
impression from that of my first trip there fifteen
years before. I found Americans, in general ~ and
apart from the Immigration people ~ polite and friendly,
and I resolved to go again.
Glen had jobs awaiting me, the biggest among them
being the rebuilding of a garden-shed one of the neighbors
had given her; she wanted it fixed up as an extra
room for the summer. We’d almost done it, when,
stepping back from it one day, I twisted my right
ankle and collapsed in agony. I was unable to stand
or put my weight on it, and it swelled up to twice
the size. Glen took me to the hospital nearby, where
I was pushed through the corridors in a wheelchair
~ yet another first ~ to be x-rayed. I was relieved
to be told there was no break or fracture, and that
it would take about six weeks to recover. I could
manage going upstairs, but coming down had to be done
on my backside!
In September, I left for Malaysia, to make another
trip there. I also went to Singapore for a while.
In a temple there one evening, I met somebody who
claimed that Buddhism was the best religion for everyone,
but when I asked what he knew of other religions,
he replied: "Not very much." I then told
him that he was just talk-ing nonsense and showing
his ignorance, because although he might
say Buddhism is the best religion for him
~ and then only when he had studied other
religions carefully ~ he could not speak for anyone
else, let alone everyone else, otherwise, it would
be like saying that bananas are the best fruit in
the world when he'd never tasted any other kind of
fruit.
People everywhere believe their religion to be the
best, otherwise they wouldn't follow it (and most
people don't follow their religion anyway), but in
most cases, their religion was a consequence of birth,
and was not intelligently chosen. If, for example,
the people of the Middle-East had been born in South
America instead, they would probably call themselves
Catholics, and that only because the Spanish and Portuguese
forced Catholicism on the people of that continent.
If people used their intelligence and investigated
things instead of merely believing, we would surely
see a reli-gious revolution.
As followed by people like the man told of above,
religion divides us and is responsible for many of
the world's problems. In 2003, there was the awful
massacre of 12 innocent Nepalese in Iraq, by people
who obviously thought they were doing it in the name
of their religion, but is that what Islam
teaches? Among their other reasons, they said that
Nepalese worship their God, Buddha, meaning that they
were infidels. A little bit of knowledge
~ avail-able to anyone these days; there is no excuse
for such ignorance now ~ would show that Buddhists
do not worship the Buddha as a God, any more than
Muslims worship Mohammed as a God. The term infidel
is a subjective term, used to refer to people who
believe other than the people using it; Christians
use it for non-Christians, Jews for non-Jews. As far
as I know, Hindus don’t use it for non-Hindus,
Buddhists for non-Buddhists, or Taoists for non-Taoists;
it is a term used by theists ~ that is, Godists.
If we are to effectively deal with the problems besetting
our world, we must learn to focus on the things we
share in common, not on things that divide us. The
whole world will never become Muslim, Buddhist, Christian
or Jewish; we must accept the existence of other religions,
and not dream of imposing ours on others. Just like
love of one's country is not demonstrated by waving
flags or singing the national anthem, but by living
in such a way that doesn't bring shame on one's country,
so Religion is how we live, not what we call ourselves.
And, just as Margaret Thatcher said something like,
“If you need to call yourself powerful or a
lady, you are not,” so we demonstrate the validity
of our religion by the way we live, not by saying
it’s the best!
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