Three Steps and A Bow

Reverend Heng Sure and his companion Heng Chau, Buddhist monks, bowed from South Pasadena to Ukiah, California, a distance of 800 miles, seeking world peace. Listen to his Awakin Talk.

I had the good fortune to see Rev Heng Sure and experience his presence at some online events. I was drawn instantly to the serenity and kindness that radiated from him like an aura. I read more about his pilgrimage which took 2 years and 6 months. I was fortunate to read the published letters he wrote to his guru during these days, and was amazed at the honesty and vulnerability of his sharing.

In my heart, I held a wish to do this practice sometime but had little courage.

At a Moved by Love retreat at the Environmental Sanitation Institute, Sughad recently, where I was already feeling buoyant with love and abundance, we were invited to take three steps and bow around a beautiful trail, amongst trees and a pond, and mesmerizing artwork.

The practice around the trail required us to make 60-70 bows at every third step. Forehead touching the ground. I remember reading Rev Heng Sure saying somewhere that this was a position in which the heart was higher than the head.

As I started, I was filled with gratitude to get the chance to practice what I had wanted for so long. Then came thoughts on how I should do this practice, what I should think, etc., etc.

And then I realised that I was not present at the moment.

As I bowed, I focused on my breath and connected with my body. In mindfulness, the next few bows were harmonious. I felt a rush of reverence flow through me as I bowed and expressed gratitude to trees, the earth, the sky, the air, the day, my aliveness, the event, the participants, my family … uncountable blessings.

I cried. And cried with complete abandon. No one looking. No one judging. No one comforting. Just being completely in pent-up sorrow or overwhelming gratitude, I’m not even sure. But it felt like a huge relief.

After more bows, the top of my feet began to ache, unfamiliar with this repetitive movement. I felt the heat of the sun. My knees felt weak, and my thigh muscles were shaky. With the up and down movement, I felt giddy. Should I quit? Was it wise to continue? What if I fainted (which has happened many times before)? Was I not quitting because I didn’t want people to think I’m weak? As I felt the giddiness rise again and again, every three steps I collapsed and bowed, collapsed and bowed … feeling only the pain and disquiet.

And then, I came back to my breath, slowed down, focused … inhale … exhale … inhale … exhale.

In a while, the giddiness passed. Again, I felt strong with the pain present like a soft background in a song. Something else felt stronger. A sense of surrender, and faith that I would make it. And the thought that this was more than just a practice. It was a pilgrimage, a short one but still.

At the end of the trail, the volunteers stood before us, bowing with us at each turn. My heart expanded to receive such love and honour.

And then there was just gratitude and joy.