Takuhatsu dustbins

Today is a beautiful day. Tomorrow is my birthday. Anyway, everyday is my birthday, everyday "I am born". The beginning of the day was blessed by another monk, Shingon I sense, that I met at the reception desk of my hotel just before starting my begging round. We bowed at each other and he kindly helped me to put my nine stripes brown kesa on, making sure the lines were vertical. Then he blessed me with a verse and off I went.

Great fun and sadness again in JR station, the guards don't let me be there more than a few minutes, a very sticky one followed right beyond the bus station to make sure that the undesirable gaijin-beggar-monk was not in the way. Part of me finds it quite entertaining, part of me feels very sad for these people that lost tolerance. As long as I wear the boundless Okesa and sing the name of the Dharma, I am but a piece of nothing. The bloke minds sometimes. The kesa doesn't mind, it is all part of this practice anyway. So I ended up doing a couple hours on the other side of the pavement, standing just next to two beautiful dustbin, nice looking trash cans. Side by side, the dustbin and I, we practiced takuhatsu. Everytime people trashed something, I bowed, realizing that the dustbin could not.

It's a beautiful day. this afternoon, I will be with Yoshiko San who is going to help be to print a few poems.

The wind blows on a sunny Kyoto. Blossoms scattered everywhere. Bold Buddhas blossoms.