Read how two children from New Zealand met their first American friend camping in a New York State Park.
We stayed close that summer. Thacher Park and Thompson’s Lake beyond it were little over a half hour away from home. One had to be a little more careful about poison ivy and oak than on Cape Cod (not that they ever bothered me), but otherwise, this extra green of my own extended backyard was just as satisfying. Scampering over and under rocks, climbing trees, following every stream bed from the lake’s shore into the forest, I s’plored every nook and cranny for hours. When I’d come back to the campsite to eat or sleep the sound of my own voice would startle me.
Then two kids moved in to the next campsite. They said things a little like Faraway Grammy. It drew me to them. I liked to listen to the way they talked. I watched them from my forest a long time before they saw me. They were a happy family, naturally kind to one another, touching often. The kids were shy about s’ploring
and stuck close. They acted overwhelmed by what seemed to them to be a very big and exotic place.
They didn’t mix comfortably with the older kids either. They were a rough bunch always trying to play baseball in the field out by the entrance to the park. They spent more time trying to find the ball or even the bases than actually playing a game. The outfielders themselves would get lost, as they tended to disappear completely into the tall grass, unable to see where they were going or keep track of an incoming ball.
“I got it! I got it! I” Bonk! “Ow!”
Over and over they swung, ran, chased, tripped, slipped and fell. I tried to join in at first, but I never could catch or hit anything in motion. Just watching somebody else do it all day long, day after day, seemed kind of pointless.
I watched the new kids watch the spectacle for a little while and get just as quickly bored. More and more they seemed different in ways that I recognized. But I wasn’t ready to approach them and give up my solitude just yet. More and more I liked being on my own best.
The next day I was up before the ground fog had risen from between the trees and made my way to the lake. I liked the way the far shore would vanish behind the fallen clouds. Places like people could be hidden from sight but you know they are there just the same. There was nothing at all to rest one’s eye upon across the water, as if the misty morning went on forever. The new kids came out onto the beach from another path near by and ambled in my direction.
Suddenly, we all noticed the water a little ways out from shore had begun to bubble and roil.
Our mouths fell open in unison. From out of the water a shiny black head and a pair of eyes behind a glass face mask emerged and glided towards us. As ‘it’ came closer a nose rose above the water. Then a chin, neck, shoulders. He was holding his arms out. There was something in either hand.
All three of us took an involuntary step back. The scuba diver had two limp but still wriggling snakes by their heads! As he cleared the water I could tell that both were longer than I was tall.
The man spit out his mouth piece with difficulty. “Hi, Kids. Aren’t they somethin’? I just wanted to show someone.” With that he hurled one hapless creature and then the other back out into the lake. They spun end to end straight out like sticks and splashed far out into the water. We took another step back.
“It’s okay, they’re just water moccasins. They won’t bother you if you don’t bother them. I didn’t know we had any out this way.”
Bother them? What would you call what you just did?
The man didn’t bother to take off the fins from his feet but awkwardly flip flopped his way past the other two astonished kids on his way back up to the campground. Lloyd Bridges he wasn’t.
I looked out at the dark, still water that was now just as it had been before. “I don’t think I want to go in swimming today.” I said to no one in particular. We all nodded in agreement. The girl looked back at the diver and began to laugh as she observed, “He looks like a frog.”
“That’s why they call them FROGMEN!” We all said together, practically falling over one another laughing.
We introduced ourselves. Holly (pronounced Haw-lee) and Bill were from New Zealand, touring the United States while visiting relatives along the way. This was only their second stop so far.
“I thought moccasins were a kind of shoe?” Holly asked.
“Well yes.”
“But the aboriginals make them out of snakes?” Bill added.
“The What? No, I think they’re usually made out of leather.”
“Aborigines. Natives?”
“Oh, you mean Indians.”
Before I knew it I had gotten around to telling them about having Mohegan ancestors. Suddenly felt very proud of the Is-Sho-Da Girl Scout Day Camp patch newly sewn on my hooded sweater.
“Our first friend in America and you’re a Native Indian?” Holly enthused.
“Not most of me. I don’t think. It was a long time ago. Ummm.”
“Nonsense, Jack. You’ll be our Indian guide and take us on safari!” I protested that safaris were supposed to be in Africa, but to no avail. Bill also continued to call me ‘Jack’ the whole time, although I never figured out why. I didn’t care, I could listen to him talk all day, and I did. They asked so many questions I never learned anything about where They were from, except that it was somewhere all the way around the other side of the world.
I showed them every path and navigable stream bed, took them down the road to the little general store and around the lake past the swimmer’s beach. Showed them where to avoid the poison ivy and where the prettiest flowers were hidden. In the evening, we took in the cricket concerts and firefly ballet. Stuck marshmallows on long branches into the campfire and burned them to a delectable char-sweet, sticky, crisp. There were so many things they’d never done before. They didn’t even know what the Big Dipper was! The next day, we poked about the rocks looking for fossils and unoccupied snail shells. We swam and dove underwater, splashed and dunked one another. Holly cried so we didn’t do it anymore. I didn’t like getting dunked much either.
We dangled from tree limbs like Tarzan and hunted toads and frogs. I taught them how to hold them so gently and think at them so kindly that the little greenlings would sit as contentedly in an open hand as on a lily pad. Bill never quite mastered the trick, however, and was often left with a palmful of fright-induced toad poop, with which, of course, he was just as glad to harmlessly menace his beloved sister.
The day after that, we bought a box kite at the general store. I was disappointed that they didn’t stock balsa airplanes. The kite was a flimsy thing, hard to put and keep together. Over my protests, Dad took it away and made it himself, grumbling and cursing at it until it stayed put together out of sheer spite.
While the baseball players were off swimming for a change, Holly, Bill and I took the kite into their field to try and fly it. There wasn’t very much wind so we ran hand in hand in hand as fast as we could through the grass, dragging the kite behind us. One tripped and the other two toppled after.
Holly made a surprised, but pleased sound. We had nearly run out of string but she still had a hold of the end of it. All the rest rose up into the air in a shallow arch and disappeared. We had tugged the unwilling kite aloft after all!
Laying back, catching breath in lungfulls, all one could see was a golden ring of tall, ripe grass encircling a deep blue pool of sky. Our mis-shapen little kite floated in the middle of it as if some of Dad’s glue had perfectly stuck it there.
That was all there needed to be in the world in one moment.
But it could not last.
After awhile, the string broke and our kite disappeared in an instant, a foreshadowing of the day when Holly and Bill’s parents started to load up their car. We stood around watching, not letting go of each other until the very last minute. Their Mum borrowed my camera to take a ‘snap’ for me to remember them by. “Oh you’re just so sweet together,” she gushed as she clicked the shutter.
I didn’t feel sweet at all. I had had a brother and sister for just one week and now they were going to be gone. Gone ‘round the world somewhere, like our kite with the broken string. There was nothing, not anything, sweet about it. I stood in their emptied campsite until the last straw-thin twist of smoke from the last glowing ember of their extinguished fire puffed its last.
My favorite memory of walking the edge of the escarpment of Thacher Park was the day after Thanksgiving in 2001. Nothing had been normal about that holiday thanks to 9/11. But I will never forget how many fathers we met walking with their wives and children that day. It reminded me that for those youngsters, 2001 might be remembered as much for the time that their families learned how to become closer and happier walking the trails of Thacher Park.
A few questions I'm going to ask my reps: Has there been any planning in regards to Thacher Park after closure? If it is to be left wild, then for how long? How will this affect the communities around it? Their safety issues, their economies? What are the plans regarding the park's reopening? Will it cost more to reopen Thacher Park then was saved by closing it in the first place? Or is this all a prelude to the state divesting itself of public parks entirely?
*For Kathleen, Cheryl, Karen, Julie, PMH, and Janis
There are too many memories walking these streets with me. But that once neglected city is now strewn with well-tended gardens. Even its oldest buildings seem to gleam in the May sun. When did that happen? I walk smiling through the lunch hour crowds making my way downtown, proud once more of Albany, New York being my home. Just as I had once been proud to be walking here hand in hand with my grandmother on our way to see the latest movie at Albany's"Palace." As I near that grand old theater I remember our last film there together called "Fantastic Voyage." A seeming millennium apart from her and then, how fantastic this scenario now seems --waiting in line to see the fourteenth incarnation of the Dalai Lama of Tibet! "Who'd of thought it?" she would have said.
The Dalai Lama on the local news:
At first I sit surrounded by the empty seats where my friends who could not come would have sat. I try to take mental notes to share with them later. Around me is the familiar excitement one senses in the presence of fame, not so much a reverential or spiritual feeling. Soon there are very few empty seats as the auditorium fills with a bustling hum of expectation. Yet there is an undercurrent around me, something almost like trepidation. I feel it, too. These have been troubling times for our country and the world at large. There had been troubling news as well about this man we have all come to see. The Dalai Lama had been in hospital not that long ago. ...And it had been recently reported that he was losing hope concerning the fate of his homeland of Tibet. How could he embrace such despair and still be the ray of sunshine we hoped he'd be?
Balding monks in saffron gold and red robes scurry about replacing one chair with another, positioning everything just so. A plain overstuffed leather chair is left at the very center of the stage. It emptily looks out at us and our gilt encrusted rococo columns, arches, crystal chandeliers, embellished cartouches and cherubim. Above it, and us all, clouds stand motionless against a field of blue. "How did they get the sky in here, Grammy?" "It's painted on, dear." "How do you paint clouds?" "They're not real, dear." "Clouds aren't real!?" "No dear, these clouds aren't real." "oh......" "They painted these clouds on this ceiling." "WHY?" "Because they're beautiful. Aren't they beautiful?" "Uh huh!" Things being beautiful was always the best answer for just about anything.
The Dalai Lama strides perhaps a little awkwardly on stage surrounded by a gaggle of attendants and local dignitaries. All are seated for a musical tribute by the Brazilian singer/composer, Denise Reis. Trumpeting vocalizations at its beginning make the man of the hour chuckle out loud in surprise. The ease of his delight is infectious. Smiles gently fan out from him into the audience like ripples across a pond. He's obviously used to being lauded and is taking it all humorously in stride. The eccentric, but beautifully conceived song performed by a group called "Simply Human" must have been as unexpected an experience for him as it was for us here in the provinces of upstate New York.
Greetings, welcomes, and more lauding follow. Then he rises and walks about the stage draping each and every musician and dignitary in turn with a traditional Tibetan white scarf handed to him by an assistant. The act has the easy grace of something done countless times. It is fascinating to watch as each person is given –along with a scarf– an equal moment of complete attention. Some meet the Dalai Lama's gaze in kind, but most can only sustain the scrutiny for an instant before looking downward. Gram, being very much Christian, might have likened this ritual of recognition to "washing the feet of his disciples." But it reminded me of a more secular, if no less blessed paradox– that rare person who confidently, yet humbly, accepts the mantle of leadership from others. In a lifetime of service, or for an hour's spotlight upon a stage, they will lead, or teach, as an equal among many equals embodying both the unique and the universal. A rare privilege indeed for any student or citizen sharing their time.
A strong voice, but often so quiet one has to stop breathing to hear it. This was the Dalai Lama's first time in our city. He would have come earlier but had had, as he put it, "no invitation." Again he laughs easily and everyone joins in. He announces that he has come to share some of his "thoughts and beliefs" and that he felt filled with the "friendly atmosphere." Suddenly there's the familiar ripping sound of velcro as he produces a bit of folded fabric from a pocket. Monks' robes have pockets? Have velcro fasteners!? He unfolds and then dons a sun visor that matches the red of his robes. Tenzin Gyatso looks a little like a gambler about to invite us to a game of poker, or a vacationer at the beach. It's the audience's turn to chuckle. He speaks of addressing our state's legislature that morning and how he had told them that he had some sympathy towards Republicans because they, too, are in a minority. "They stood up absolutely joyful and then I told them ...IT'S A JOKE!" He and our Democratic mayor exchange wry nods. More Laughter. He looks thoughtful then adds that he doesn't think that there is much difference between political parties but that having them "is a very, very healthy sign ...some competition is good exercise." He indulges in still more effortless laughter and rearranges himself distractedly. He explains that this is his last day visiting our country before going back to his second home in India. On this visit the Dalai Lama had had "many occasions to speak to the public," meet "some students, professors, and scientists. I also learn something. Some new things. So, indeed, I am very satisfied." Without warning, his feet leave the sanctuary of a pair of ordinary brown shoes and tuck themselves up underneath him in the chair, disappearing under the fold of his robes.
"I am happy to have some opportunity to share some of my thought." That thought, he says, is his main thought every day no matter what country he is in. It is "always of bringing inner strength, inner calmness, or inner peace. With that we can handle all problems, more realistically, more effectively. So I believe warm-heartedness, compassionate heart. This is a key matter for a meaningful life. And also for our constant health. A calm mind is a very crucial factor according to my own experience. When I had a medical check-up from time to time the doctors found my medical condition was very good. So. Of course my life not happy one, a lot of difficulties. At age 16, I lost my freedom. At age 24, I lost my own country. For the last fifty years constant, heart-breaking news always. Some cases, some positive news, but others mostly bad, sad news. But then, comparatively, my mental state quite okay, quite calm. So now this shows in my health. So some may consider that I have some hidden power. This is nonsense." The audience begins to giggle again. "If I truly had a healing power, then surgery to remove my gall bladder that should not take place!" More laughter surprises even itself. He has dispatched the last of his audience's concern, putting even hardship and worry in its place.
"So that makes very clear that I have no healing power!" But his deep, rolling chuckle is indeed infectious. "So I think peace of mind really makes differences for our health and daily life more happier. And also inner happiness, inner calmness also creates some peaceful manner that also many other people enjoy. So through them we can create more happy society, something like one family. THAT we really need. Money? Power? May not do that. That thing comes only through sincere, compassionate attitude. Even animals, sometimes I do think we can learn more things from animals rather than human beings. They are like our parents. They don't care whether that person is rich or poor. Whether that person is this color or that color or whether he has this position or that position, whether they have gone in that direction or another or whatever... They do not know. Don't care. But they care for us. Can understand from us our agitation, our affection, affection in the attitude. ...Sincere. Not lying, not cheating. For this, we have dogs, cats, and some birds also."
I'm filled with a new appreciation for the loving pets that have graced my days. But I find myself again drawn to looking down at the Dalai Lama's plain, brown shoes sitting empty on the stage. How they mock all the grand pomp and circumstance of the moment. They seem to insist that this man is no different, no better or worse, than anyone else here. He puts his shoes on one at a time. Yet I cannot help but feel privileged to be in the same room. Perhaps it is simply being in the presence of so much world history. ...And isn't this the oldest soul one's ever likely to experience in any lifetime? Wait, did he just wonder laughingly aloud whether a mosquito can appreciate another species? That an insect's "brain size may be too small for anything but the survival of its day to day life?" He concludes, "but in many cases, even animals also have the ability to appreciate other's affection, truthfulness, honesty, compassion."
The thought process, like the shoes, distracts. It is fascinating to watch him braille the elephant of his ideas, searching for the right argument to convey this or that exploration. "So then we, human beings, suppose we have much more intellect? If that intellect feast on, on benevolence, on a decent peaceful family. If we can appreciate even what other animals can appreciate. That should not be minimized. It's not selfishly interested. It's then foolish..." He turns and takes another tack mid-sentence. "I think basically our nature is more compassionate. One clear sign is firstly with everybody come from mother's milk. And we survive with mother's milk. ...At that time we have no idea who is that person, but we truly appreciate her affection, her smile, her closeness of feeling. So then we trust that, totally rely on that. So according to medical doctors, after birth and for the next few weeks, mother's physical attraction is very crucial factor for proper development of the child."
At a news conference taped earlier that morning, the Dalai Lama had been delighted by the extra broad shoulders of one of the reporters as it seemed to remind him of the experience of being carried by his own mother:
As if to illustrate, a baby in the audience delights in non-verbally answering the sound of the Dalai Lama's voice and will not be quieted. "Then, obviously, I think in this hall. Some people there, of yes, that's alright I cannot see. I think in this hall 50,000. Huh!?" His interpreter, sitting close by, intervenes. "Oh ah, nearly 300,000. Oh, I mean 3,000." He notices that his train of thought has left the tracks. "My English dangerous!" The audience explodes with laughter. "Ahem, Ahhh, so now there are 3,000 people here. I think there will be really some of those individuals who at a young age who receive maximum affection from our mother they will appreciate a relatively much more stable and, more important, such people build an ability to show affection to others. And I think for others such people are much happier, more calm; may not disturb their mind easily. Then those people, and I think there must be some, at a young age lack that affection. And worse, some abused. That abuse emotionally mires the person and they've lost affection. So they sort of feel not affection but fear, disgust." The baby in the audience, as if to illustrate, becomes even more vocal. "As a result, those people who have such an experience at a young age I think may find more doubt to feel all others' pain. So as a result, such people they're mind obstinate deeply inside. They fear, and lack peace ability as a result. Small sort of problem can disturb what's their mind."
The baby quiets as the Dalai Lama's voice lowers almost to a whisper. "Medical science, at Howard Hughes Medical School, this has been proved scientifically.... anger, hatred, fear, or constant anger-hatred-fear is literally eating our inner system. A more calm mind, compassionate mind, can decrease this in the immune system." He suddenly addresses his translator. They seem to be grappling with terms of biology in two languages. The aide finally concludes: "I think it's called transferase." The Dalai Lama pauses as if to consider trying to explain a concept that few may have heard of and decides to take another route... "So therefore, comfortable compassionate attitude is not little matter."
Transferase is thought to be implicated in the process of stress-related aging. Stress oxidation may also effect the telomeres' region of DNA , the shortening of which might have contributed to the first cloned mammal's (Dolly the sheep's) premature death. ...There's much more on this in the new field of epigenetics, as reported in the recent PBS "NOVA" special "Ghost in your Genes."
Step by step, the Dalai Lama broadens his argument for the maintenance of a calm mind and an equally loving heart; citing evidence from animal to human, from the experience of family to the proofs of scientific truth. How compassion itself provably exists, if not for the insect then certainly for nearly everyone and every 'thing' else. How it must be sought after and held in common for the sake of all. It was sinking in. But I was beginning to wonder, as perhaps many did, what if one is not gifted with calmness and love by either nature or nurture, what then?"
"Those people who sincerely practice one's own faith, have faith increase. So one of my commitments is promoting races' harmony. So I am fully committed about that. So some might consider that, consider me, as being a good Christian." He chuckles. "One time when I was in Australia during a public talk a Christian minister introduced me and when he did that he called me a good Christian." ...My devout grandmother would certainly have agreed... "On some occasions in India I have noticed that traditionally sometimes Christians and Muslims wear the same clothes, sometimes they wash together, but they never eat together."
Again I am left wondering, had this associative way of thinking led our teacher, himself, astray?
"If we remain on the basis of faith, they are Muslim, we are Buddhist. More worry. More feeling isolated. Then that can translate into frustration, anger, then violence. And violence has little success. So does anything that reduces harmony. Of course, one small tradition or philosophy, that's our own business. Yes. But there are common practice of compassion, practice of forgiveness, tolerance, contentment, self-discipline are common practice. So we can share in these practices. We can learn from our Christian brothers and sisters. Very useful."
To satisfy a variety of people, there are a variety of religions? Makes sense.
"A different approach is necessary. There are different circumstances, different geographies." In a later Q&A the subject of tolerance itself would again arise. A sore subject considering the ever tortured relationship between Tibet and China, where diversity of thought or cultures still seems to be considered more a threat than a strength. But when debating on a religious difference with a Christian, the Dalai Lama laughs to recall announcing fondly: "This is Buddhist business, not YOUR business!" Would that nations could be as tolerant as these two friends of differing beliefs had succeeded at being. How easy then would be the separation of church and state, of cultural and political divide. "Even in the Tibetan community, most are basically Buddhist. But there are also some Muslim there, also some Christian there. This shows the right of people. So my main commitment is promotional. So always we should carry the same message. The same potential. So. But my main sort of effort is –without touching religious concept– simply using scientific datas and our own experience and on that basis make known, make clear to the public, we have this inner value that is immensely beneficial."
He offers an example: "I always tell people, this group in this current economic crisis, that of course with ordinary people also there is some sort of impact on their life. But here I believe, and of course, you have to watch, you have to sort of check, check those people who think only money has value. Always thinking about money, money, money --like that. No other interest. No other values. No other concern for others."
Not that money doesn't have value.
"Certainly without money you can't survive, you can't work, you can't have an end product. But beside this value, material value, is this other inner value. A successful, happy family. A compassionate family. Compassionate community. Inner peace. Of these two kinds of people I think those during an economic crisis –I think those who feel only money have value– are the ones that are hit most. They are the most distressed. Certainly, for the other one there is a money crisis there BUT still very happy in their families and their relationships. They are more oriented toward their inner value."
Philosophy and civics collide, which is about as political as this talk will get. He thinks aloud that, "a basic, modern, efficient system itself should pay attention only to the greater moment, to accept this inner value." But that, educational institutions have evolved apart from the religion and family in the teaching of values, dealing only with educating the brain. "Then that educational institution alone have the responsibility. So therefore on many occasions I express, and also many people agree, that now in modern educational system we need some lesson on moral issues. Then how to put that? That we need more research work on the basis of universal value and including some scientific findings on these things. So that my main sort of commitment wherever I go I touch this subject and make known or share with the public. ...At least pay more attention toward our inner values and then where it is concerned, no difference of color, no difference of social background, whether rich or poor. No differences. And also not depend on faith. Even without faith we share a good quality, by birth already there. In fact, compassion, the seat of compassion, is a biological factor." Science is, indeed, backing up this supposition with research. "We are social animal and I am told that the very way we are grown up, need others' care. In order to develop others' enthusiasm, caring, emotionally this needs something. That's affection. With affection then all this care be there."
He resorts to parable, humorously telling of how on a recent extended plane trip he observed a mother staying up all night to take care of her fussy young child long after her husband had fallen asleep. "So mother all night take care... This shows from her actions that mother has tremendous determination and willing to sacrifice for others, willing to face any difficulties, any sort of problems. Sacrifice own sleep for her own child, for others' sleep. ...So it is indisputable that she has compassion. True compassion is oriented towards others' attitude."
But there's the hitch. And here is where a lifetime (lifetimes?) of study reveals itself. "So long as others attitude friendly towards you that kind of compassion can be maintained. But as soon as their attitude changes, then that compassionate attitude could turn to hatred. So therefore, naturally that type of compassion cannot extend towards people who you perceive as an enemy, whose attitude is negative to yours. So that is why it is limited much in the way of what it's attachment to you. However, that way might succeed then through that which I call, what Buddhists' call, analytical meditation. By analysis of the values of compassion, not contemplation of anger or of selfishness. Through these, sort of, events you can know you can prolong your condition." Some of the best health advice I'd ever heard.
"Now for example all human beings, all creatures by nature want happiness under the sun. Therefore, every human being, but really every being, has the right to walk in the sun. Use that reason to settle your concern for one's self or also check each other." The interpreter intervenes: "changing one's self." "Change one's self not on basis of for you yourself, like that, but simply: I have rights to walk in the sun. Because of that I have rights towards sun and decide. So therefore, thats the reason – one hundred percent – say to other people also, by nature, therefore they have every right to walk in the sun. Using that for a reason, that philosophy of concern toward the welfare of others including your enemy. That's why attitude is a bit different. All are sensitive beings, on that unbiased compassion not oriented toward attitude but on being of person. That infinite, not based on attachment. Friend? Friendly attitude. Enemy? Hateful attitude. New to people, you feel nothing. But as the rightness as such, all are sensitive beings. They have the right to walk out there. On that I base as much as possible an unbiased compassion not oriented towards attitude but oriented towards being of people, of person. Like that. That unbiased. That infinite. Not based on attachment. So. That I call universal compassion, it leads to true, mainly democratic, unbiased compassion. That I think true education that we can look at."
My mind wanders again, trying to understand. Universal compassion based, not on one's relation or attitude towards another person, but on the simple right of everyone to exist? It's a very American thought in a way – live as you like, believe as you must, at least to the extent that it does not infringe on anyone else's right to be as they are and do as they must. An almost biblical thought – judge not, lest ye be judged? This was an axiom my Gram lived her whole life. She was stubborn in her right to be as she willed, yet always strove to be mindful, 'in service' to others. A loving nature I'd treasured, but not always been able to live up to. But now I find I can not be too hard on myself over that lack. If the Dalai Lama is correct, then that right of being must also apply to one's own being. It is a call to be compassionate towards one's self as well as others. Being well cared for from the beginning simply helps one experience it emotionally, but what he seems to be calling for is an awareness, an acceptance of it intellectually.
"So that's my talk. So if you feel some sort of interest over my thought then please pay more attention and familiarize yourself, with investigation, from experiment, then you gain more, I think, deeper experience. And those of you who may not have much of an interest, then, no problem. After our talk, when you go outside... **** it." The audience explodes in surprised laughter. "But that no problem. I will be leaving tomorrow and so will be saying..." Laughing too hard to finish. "I will get to say 'Bye, Bye.'"
Suddenly jostling out onto the street again, I am not quite able to decide whether to walk or take the bus home – let alone parse all I had just heard. I feel the concentration of smiling experience dispersing around me up side streets and out in all directions into the greater mind of my city. A pleasant, different kind of feeling for the place. The music of this afternoon, not yet beginning to stir from my subconscious, had had a very different voice to consider. It was not a forceful celebrity sound-bite by way of the press, nor the oration of a statesman, not even a sermon for a willing congregation. We were not monks capable of being instructed in the art of spiritual debate. With humility, yet a commanding self-possession, the Dalai Lama had mused aloud on the effect (or even lack of it) that his sharing might have. As if it were routine to answer questions no one but he could think to ask.
"Meditation for Piano" a spontaneous composition inspired by the Dalai Lama's visit recorded that evening.
Days, weeks later, this experience has become for me yet another of those moments that can be re-visited outside of time. Always fresh and yet familiar as the grasp of a loved one's hand on the way to a new adventure. Like a sanctuary in the cradle of mountains, or some sandy beach of contemplation at the edge of a vast expanse; it is a memory where one can listen to the roar of mental tides or curl-up peacefully and wait for a muse's song from high in a favourite climbing tree. In this imaginary landscape the Dalai Lama now presides like a bemused, eye-shaded Buddha. Cross-legged in an overstuffed leather chair, his empty shoes always at the ready to move on, ready to explore how to balance curiosity with belief, disappointment with delight, hardship with joy, discipline with freedom. Just the type of person who might paint clouds on a ceiling because they are beautiful. He has painted a portrait of himself with this lifetime not unlike the mountains of his Tibetan homeland. Creatures of earth and air, towering clean with snow, quiet but for the swoosh of eternal winds and the colors of prayer flags fluttering forever about them.
Here are more clips from the World Ethical Foundations Consortium. The full event DVD will be available for purchase at http://www.worldethicalfoundations.org.
