Postcard from the zen

If you meet the Buddha on the way, kill him.
- Zen koan

I was hurrying down Georgia Avenue to satsang which i convene so i didn't want to be late. I swept past a male version of the baglady, a rotund African-American freighted with shoppers, greeting everyone calling them by name. They addressed him as Baby Ray.
"How ya doin?"
"Hey Master, Teacher!"
"Piece a shit!"
Only then did i realize he was addressing me. Already way ahead of him, i didn't stop or turn back even to look at him, but burst out laughing. It's all the same, no distinction.