Unexpected Morning

The streets are alive with chatter. What is the news? "His Holiness will give a teaching tomorrow at the temple!" shares a smiling stranger.

And so I rise with a smile of anticipation and make the misty morning walk to the temple. It is only 6:30, but many people gather at the gate. When we are permitted to enter, monks and nuns help us set out mats and take a seat with a view of the immaculate gold statue of Shakyamuni Buddha, whose soft face smiles with a gentleness that allows even us pilgrims from faraway lands to feel at peace in his gaze.

I sit in quiet meditation as the temple fills to the brim with people: the countless rows of cushions happily splitting at the seams to accommodate monks, nuns, Tibetan refugees, Indian tourists and other travelers from all over the world. I feel at ease and extraordinarily grateful for my good fortune of sitting in the presence of His Holiness for even a short while. It is more rare than one might expect for His Holiness to offer a teaching at his home in Mcleod Ganj. The Dalai Lama travels quite often, these days, and many pilgrims come to the temple at Mcleod Ganj three or four times before being able to receive a teaching. And so, I smile and feel the expanding warmth of my grateful and calm breath: quietly awaiting the entrance of His Holiness.

All at once, the nuns sitting a few rows in front of me rise and hold their hands in prayer at heart-center. We travelers follow their lead and do the same, bowing our heads slightly and secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of His Holiness through the tight ring of helpers that guide him where he goes. In an unexpected moment, my heart leaps from my chest and hangs on my smile when I catch the smallest glimpse of the Dalai Lama's glasses and the soft shine of his slightly bowed forehead. From the wrinkles that decorate the corner of his eyes, I can tell he is smiling. I am surprised at how overcome I feel already, my heart fluttering on overdrive but at the same time peaceful and moved to something between tears and silent laughter. His Holiness enters the temple and takes his seat for meditation. From where I sit, I can only see the very top of his head; his body is veiled by what looks like a silken white altar that, from my perspective, could be seen as the gateway to His Holiness's sacred seat. The meditation begins.

Monks and nuns pass out booklets of this morning's teaching. The teaching will be conducted in Tibetan only and so I do not take a booklet, though gazing upon the subtle beauty of Sanskrit Letters is a gorgeous meditation in and of itself. I prefer to listen. His Holiness wears a microphone and so the baritone depth of his prayers are clear to all of us seated near and far. Tibetan chanting is something unlike anything I have ever heard; it is nearly impossible to believe the extent to which highly trained monks can use their breath in one steady stream to create such a range of sounds: never gasping, hardly inhaling, just flowing breath, deep and wide. I let myself dissolve into the sound. The teaching lasts for nearly two hours all together; Tibetan men and women chant along in a breathtaking chorus. Though the temple is open, I could be water sitting in a brass bowl that is being struck with a soft mallet: reverberating incantation throughout and through-in. I smile a seamless chain of smiles; like the water droplets on a morning spiderweb, I smile.

When it is time for His Holiness to rise and exit the temple, once again, we all stand and show our deepest respect. This time, I see his face, his smile, his kind way of stopping and offering blessings to a few pilgrims on the edge of the path. We are all overcome: seeing His Holiness is like jumping at dawn into frigid water and feeling every nerve alive and open-mouthed with reverence.

I did not know how I would react to this chance occasion; I could not anticipate what it would be like to see His Holiness walking joyfully just 10 meters from where I stand. I can say, now, that this morning is one I will not forget: just being in the presence of His Holiness the Dalai Lama, who calls himself but a simple monk , is a blessing that will continue to bloom in me for many moments to come. The chanting, the smiles, the peaceful gathering of hundreds of pilgrims from all over the world, the sweetness of the first glimpse of glasses and smile-line wrinkles: I feel joyfully silent, abundantly grateful and happily peaceful. May all the world be well and peaceful in this moment and receive a breath of blessing from this unexpected morning. Om Shanthi