T

Lunch: The Meeting of Two

Mischievous People Is Wonderful

he Dalai Lama’s audience room had been transformed into a dining
room. At the far end was an ornate golden Buddha encased in a
colorful wooden box. The walls were hung with thangkas, brightly
painted silk scrolls that depicted images of the Buddha and other
Buddhist figures. They were traditionally hung on the walls of
monasteries for brief periods of time to inspire meditative practice. They
were used to encourage practitioners along the path of enlightenment.
The windows were covered with white lace curtains and the table was
set for lunch with baskets of Tibetan flat bread and boxed juice
containers. The whole setting was simple, almost like a picnic, and the
meal was typical Tibetan food from the Dalai Lama’s kitchen. There were
noodles and vegetables and momos, the famed Tibetan steamed
dumplings.
The Dalai Lama and Archbishop Tutu sat across from each other. As I
sat next to the Dalai Lama I could feel in his posture and his body
language the power of a leader. I remembered how strongly and tenderly
he had held my hand the first time we met. His kindness did not in any
way diminish his power, a valuable reminder that compassion is a feature
of strength, not weakness, a point they would make throughout our
conversations.
When the Dalai Lama greets you, he takes your hand and then rubs it
tenderly, as a grandparent might. He looks into your eyes, feels deeply
what you are feeling, and touches his forehead to yours. Whatever
feeling, elation or anguish, is in your heart and reflected on your face, it
is mirrored in his. But then when he meets the next person, those
emotions are gone and he is wholly available for the next encounter and
the next moment. Perhaps that is what it means to be fully present,