Athens, Greece - August 4, 1987
Hi.... Christine, how are you?
Well, here I am in Athens, still with the Japanese Buddhist monks. For the last few days we have been busy making Peace Cranes, for the ceremony at the beach. Let me explain about the monks.
The majority of them are Japanese and the sect is called Nipponzan Myhoji. After the Nuclear bomb was dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945, their leader and founder, Nichidatsu Fuji, said it was time for the monks to come out of the temples and take to the streets for peace. Since that time they have been walking around the world helping to bring change through spiritual activism. I joined these amazing spiritual warriors for the last few months of their International Walk to promote Nuclear Disarmament. They have now been on the road for almost a year, walking from Stockholm Sweden to Athens, Greece. Now to the story.
There are many descriptions of a hot summer. Blazing sun, scorching heat, melting roads, the list is endless and they are all happening right here in Patral Greece. Yesterday the news came that over a hundred people have died here from heat exhaustion and sometimes I wonder if I will be the one hundred and first. We have started walking at four in the morning trying to catch any cool breeze that might come from the ocean. Right now it's hopeless, even before the first rays of the sun reflect on the brilliant orange robes of my friends, what little energy I have is drained from my body. There are times when I feel I can't go on walking much longer, my legs feel like soft rubber and I just want to sit down and cry.
We have little food and lately it seems every meal consists of a "capuzzi"- a watermelon. We stopped for a short break and I was elated to stop walking yet disgusted as I watch Kajima bring out his Swiss army knife and carve a small piece of yet another watermelon. Too tired to even groan, I looked around for some precious shade and a rock to sit on. I chose a spot away from everyone and sat in silence with my head dropping slowly between my knees. Before long I sensed a movement and standing in front of me was Utsumi, a very shy man of about thirty. He smiled and bowed his head three times honouring the Buddha in me and offered a piece of watermelon. I tried not to show my discomfort as he looked deeply into my eyes. I returned the bow and we both knew words were unnecessary. It seemed at that moment he understood everything that I felt. There was no judgment or pity, just a knowing. He quietly walked away to serve the others. My warped sense of humour returned and I wondered if I had experienced a Star Trek mindmeld from an Asian Spock.
The juice of the watermelon was like a rain shower on my parched desert throat, and slowly my energy returned. I looked around at the monks who were still holding their heads high reflecting an inner pride, they were ready to walk again. They are so dedicated and completely focused on their pilgrimage. Not an ounce of energy wasted on complaints. I recalled that they had previously walked in blizzards and snow storms to arrive here, so I continued chanting and walking.
I awoke very early, about four o'clock one morning, to the busy activity of the monks, who were preparing themselves to walk. They are people of small words and large actions, and I never know when I will be walking, let alone where. I dragged myself out of my sleeping bag and obediently walked with them as I had done each morning for the past few months. Later that evening I found myself sitting with them on a road blocking an American military base outside of Athens. What a dramatic sight. Try to imagine the power of seven monks with orange robes, shaven heads, and all drumming on small hand drums. They were chanting "Nam Mu Myo Ho Renge Kyo" - a prayer for peace. There is magical power in these drums; their sounds evoke much emotion for all around. Before long, three truckloads of soldiers jumped out and lined up in front of us with rifles aimed. Next came the ominous wailing of the Greek police sirens. The Greeks are generally known as excitable people, so try to imagine the hysterical scene around us. The police ran up and down the line of chanting and drumming monks, waving hand guns in our faces. How absurd, they were yelling in Greek to the Monks who understood little English let alone Greek. They were threatening us with arrest and many unimaginable horrors if we did not stop. I tried looking ahead as I also drummed and chanted. Out of the corner of my eye I was watching the monks and their complete calmness and dedication to their prayers of peace.
At that moment I thought "What am I doing here? I'm just a simple man from Canada who would like to see a better future for his grandchildren." I tell you, I was absolutely terrified for I knew this chaotic scene could turn very violent if just one person panicked. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes and continued chanting.
The next moment is very difficult for me to find words for. It was as if there was a marvelous cloak of love being draped around me. A feeling of complete calmness and serenity. I knew at that moment I was at the right place at the right time doing the right thing.....for me.
As I walk I have heard many people say they are searching for God or Spirit in their lives. For me that would be a sense of oneness, harmony, all in balance. Well, at that moment I was there with God/Spirit and fear no longer had its grip on me. I suppose it's not always necessary to climb to the top of a mountain to experience God. It seems she/he can also be at the base, and in this case a military base.
Lotsa love my precious daughter,
Live in Joy Walk In Peace.
Dad