Hello Dalai!
The Dalai Lama is a cute, slight, bald whisp of a man.
This is my first impression upon seeing His Holiness emerge from behind the curtain, taking center stage amidst a sea of applause and eager anticipation. I have little previous knowledge of the man, and in all honesty have no reason for being here except that when his visit was announced, it made perfect sense that i would be here. Glancing skyward at the huge Jumbotron screen looming over the proceedings, from my seat up high in the nosebleeds, I see him there in all his Dalai Lama-ness, complete with long, flowing maroon robe and matching visor wrapped around his brown, nearly hairless scalp. I cannot recall ever having seen this man before, but he is pretty much exactly as I envisioned.
Oh, and one other thing. He is smiling. It's a mile-wide smile to be sure, but unlike any smile I think I have ever laid eyes on. He is grinning as if he has no reservations at all, this little old man in the maroon get-up, perfectly at ease with his surroundings and clearly at ease with himself. That smile is pure as the driven snow and yet warm as the midday sun on a lazy August afternoon. I am immediately captivated. He has yet to utter a word and here I am already surrendering, that smile of his so beguiling and disarming that I am defenseless to its charm. This man's mere presence has me covered in chicken skin from head to toe. I am crying, and though I can't really pinpoint why, it all feels just fine. More than fine, in fact. It feels wonderful.
I start to wonder whether any of the other 10,000 souls gathered here on this day are feeling the same way. I bask in this feeling awhile, and when I'm finally able to pull myself together, I decide to attempt to share my experience with my friend Curt, who is seated to my left. I immediately decide against it when I see him wiping away the liquid streaming down his own cheeks. A few seconds later our tear-soaked eyes meet, and we are both smiling and without speech. There is nothing to say. I guess that answers my question.
I know at least one other soul is seeing what I am seeing.
Time for the main event. The Dalai Lama is here to give an address titled "Advancing Peace Through the Power of Aloha". It is clear from the start, however, that this talk will be about whatever he sees fit to talk about on this lovely Sunday in paradise. He has no cue cards, no prepared speech. That is not how the Dalai Lama rolls. None of that interests him. Why not? We are all the same, he says. Exactly the same. This simple fact (to him) explains why there is no need for canned words. Speaking to us is like speaking to himself, like looking into a gigantic mirror and seeing his own sparkling reflection staring back at him joyfully. I get it, and for some reason this makes me giddy with laughter. It makes him laugh, too. Actually, it turns out lots of things make him laugh.
He laughs upon hearing the definition of the word "aloha", saying he had never really known its meaning each time he has ever said it (entirely forgivable, as the word has a multitude of uses and meanings). This cracks him up. He also laughs while discussing "serious" business too, including forgiveness, oppression, human rights, even wars. But make no mistake: this is by no means an irresponsible laugh. There is not a hint of judgment or sarcasm in this laughter of his. I would say it is almost childlike in its purity and innocence, but that would not be entirely accurate either.
Fact is, I don't think I have ever heard a laugh quite like the Dalai Lama's before. It is wise and compassionate, has a smooth, gentle power, and yes, it certainly contains more than a trace of that innocence. But above all else it is sincere. He's not laughing at anyone or anything in particular. Rather, he seems to be laughing at how silly all of this life stuff really is. Laughing is his way of acknowledging the truth, of happily taking everything with a grain of salt no matter how life-or-death important the rest of the world might deem it to be. Indeed, if laughter is the best medicine, then the Dalai Lama is an overstocked pharmacy full of remedies for exactly what ails us.
The talk continues for nearly one hour. Translator at his side, Mr. Lama rambles somewhat erratically from one topic to the next, and though his English is occasionally disjointed, the underlying current of his message is never, ever in doubt. We must find the peace within, he says. That's where it begins and ends. We must see that we are one. The solutions to the world's problems must be universal, excluding no one. Until we recognize this and live our lives according to this single concept, proclaims His Holiness, we will never be free from our misery.
I sit there, hanging on every word. I can't help but notice how serene this little man appears to be. He seems to embody real peace, and not in a hippieish, tie-dyed cumbaya sort of way either. The Dalai Lama's brand of peace is soulful. He glows, eyes twinkling, his presence magnetic. There is an incredible lightness about him, as if he might drift off into the ethers at any moment if he isn't careful, though I suspect the mere idea of such a demise would get him rolling in the aisles with...yes...more laughter.
At the end of his talk, the Dalai Lama sits back down on his chair at center stage. Time for some questions. One inquiry is about the perma-grin that resides on his face. Does he ever not smile? This question puzzles him for a moment, enough for that smile to disappear. But only briefly.
"Maybe when I am pushing and it won't come out", he announces, smile slowly returning. "Sometimes it is hard to go to the bathroom and during those times, I don't think I am smiling." This elicits perhaps the loudest response from the crowd all day. We could all relate. Yes, it seems the Dalai Lama is more like us, exactly like us, than any of us ever knew.
As the whole thing winds down, I keep paying close attention to that loose, tender smile cascading from ear to ear across his face. It is on display no matter what is happening around him--children dancing hula in his honor, people draping flowery leis around his neck, etc--and yet I speculate on how much he really cares about all of the pomp and circumstance surrounding his visit here. Not that he wasn't grateful for every minute, of course. It just seems obvious to me that the Dalai Lama has no real use for such displays. He merely wants to love us all, every last one of us. He doesn't need anything from anyone. He already has it all, and he wants us to have it all, too. And he clearly doesn't want to be worshipped, as any true spiritual being doesn't. He only exists to share. Sure, he has the words that we need to hear. But his presence alone speaks even louder by volumes.
Exiting the auditorium, I contemplate everything I have just seen and heard, understanding fully what an honor it was to share in such a rare visit. Of course, the Dalai Lama would (smilingly) disagree with that assessment. He would probably say I had simply been watching my own reflection for the past sixty minutes.
Fair enough. Only, somebody must have used up all the Windex in the world to get the glass so clear. There was nary a streak or smudge to be found, not today at least. For on this day, as I gazed joyfully into that squeaky-clean mirror, I absolutely loved what I saw reflecting back.
This is my first impression upon seeing His Holiness emerge from behind the curtain, taking center stage amidst a sea of applause and eager anticipation. I have little previous knowledge of the man, and in all honesty have no reason for being here except that when his visit was announced, it made perfect sense that i would be here. Glancing skyward at the huge Jumbotron screen looming over the proceedings, from my seat up high in the nosebleeds, I see him there in all his Dalai Lama-ness, complete with long, flowing maroon robe and matching visor wrapped around his brown, nearly hairless scalp. I cannot recall ever having seen this man before, but he is pretty much exactly as I envisioned.
Oh, and one other thing. He is smiling. It's a mile-wide smile to be sure, but unlike any smile I think I have ever laid eyes on. He is grinning as if he has no reservations at all, this little old man in the maroon get-up, perfectly at ease with his surroundings and clearly at ease with himself. That smile is pure as the driven snow and yet warm as the midday sun on a lazy August afternoon. I am immediately captivated. He has yet to utter a word and here I am already surrendering, that smile of his so beguiling and disarming that I am defenseless to its charm. This man's mere presence has me covered in chicken skin from head to toe. I am crying, and though I can't really pinpoint why, it all feels just fine. More than fine, in fact. It feels wonderful.
I start to wonder whether any of the other 10,000 souls gathered here on this day are feeling the same way. I bask in this feeling awhile, and when I'm finally able to pull myself together, I decide to attempt to share my experience with my friend Curt, who is seated to my left. I immediately decide against it when I see him wiping away the liquid streaming down his own cheeks. A few seconds later our tear-soaked eyes meet, and we are both smiling and without speech. There is nothing to say. I guess that answers my question.
I know at least one other soul is seeing what I am seeing.
Time for the main event. The Dalai Lama is here to give an address titled "Advancing Peace Through the Power of Aloha". It is clear from the start, however, that this talk will be about whatever he sees fit to talk about on this lovely Sunday in paradise. He has no cue cards, no prepared speech. That is not how the Dalai Lama rolls. None of that interests him. Why not? We are all the same, he says. Exactly the same. This simple fact (to him) explains why there is no need for canned words. Speaking to us is like speaking to himself, like looking into a gigantic mirror and seeing his own sparkling reflection staring back at him joyfully. I get it, and for some reason this makes me giddy with laughter. It makes him laugh, too. Actually, it turns out lots of things make him laugh.
He laughs upon hearing the definition of the word "aloha", saying he had never really known its meaning each time he has ever said it (entirely forgivable, as the word has a multitude of uses and meanings). This cracks him up. He also laughs while discussing "serious" business too, including forgiveness, oppression, human rights, even wars. But make no mistake: this is by no means an irresponsible laugh. There is not a hint of judgment or sarcasm in this laughter of his. I would say it is almost childlike in its purity and innocence, but that would not be entirely accurate either.
Fact is, I don't think I have ever heard a laugh quite like the Dalai Lama's before. It is wise and compassionate, has a smooth, gentle power, and yes, it certainly contains more than a trace of that innocence. But above all else it is sincere. He's not laughing at anyone or anything in particular. Rather, he seems to be laughing at how silly all of this life stuff really is. Laughing is his way of acknowledging the truth, of happily taking everything with a grain of salt no matter how life-or-death important the rest of the world might deem it to be. Indeed, if laughter is the best medicine, then the Dalai Lama is an overstocked pharmacy full of remedies for exactly what ails us.
The talk continues for nearly one hour. Translator at his side, Mr. Lama rambles somewhat erratically from one topic to the next, and though his English is occasionally disjointed, the underlying current of his message is never, ever in doubt. We must find the peace within, he says. That's where it begins and ends. We must see that we are one. The solutions to the world's problems must be universal, excluding no one. Until we recognize this and live our lives according to this single concept, proclaims His Holiness, we will never be free from our misery.
I sit there, hanging on every word. I can't help but notice how serene this little man appears to be. He seems to embody real peace, and not in a hippieish, tie-dyed cumbaya sort of way either. The Dalai Lama's brand of peace is soulful. He glows, eyes twinkling, his presence magnetic. There is an incredible lightness about him, as if he might drift off into the ethers at any moment if he isn't careful, though I suspect the mere idea of such a demise would get him rolling in the aisles with...yes...more laughter.
At the end of his talk, the Dalai Lama sits back down on his chair at center stage. Time for some questions. One inquiry is about the perma-grin that resides on his face. Does he ever not smile? This question puzzles him for a moment, enough for that smile to disappear. But only briefly.
"Maybe when I am pushing and it won't come out", he announces, smile slowly returning. "Sometimes it is hard to go to the bathroom and during those times, I don't think I am smiling." This elicits perhaps the loudest response from the crowd all day. We could all relate. Yes, it seems the Dalai Lama is more like us, exactly like us, than any of us ever knew.
As the whole thing winds down, I keep paying close attention to that loose, tender smile cascading from ear to ear across his face. It is on display no matter what is happening around him--children dancing hula in his honor, people draping flowery leis around his neck, etc--and yet I speculate on how much he really cares about all of the pomp and circumstance surrounding his visit here. Not that he wasn't grateful for every minute, of course. It just seems obvious to me that the Dalai Lama has no real use for such displays. He merely wants to love us all, every last one of us. He doesn't need anything from anyone. He already has it all, and he wants us to have it all, too. And he clearly doesn't want to be worshipped, as any true spiritual being doesn't. He only exists to share. Sure, he has the words that we need to hear. But his presence alone speaks even louder by volumes.
Exiting the auditorium, I contemplate everything I have just seen and heard, understanding fully what an honor it was to share in such a rare visit. Of course, the Dalai Lama would (smilingly) disagree with that assessment. He would probably say I had simply been watching my own reflection for the past sixty minutes.
Fair enough. Only, somebody must have used up all the Windex in the world to get the glass so clear. There was nary a streak or smudge to be found, not today at least. For on this day, as I gazed joyfully into that squeaky-clean mirror, I absolutely loved what I saw reflecting back.
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