April 21, 2008

11:11 p.m.

Back from Michigan

What an interesting weekend. Times are lean and we�re having trouble making some tours pay these days, but still the gigs bring lessons, nice people, and sometimes remarkable experiences.

We�d gotten tickets to see the Dalai Lama in Ann Arbor, so we sacrificed some sleep on Saturday night in order to drive an hour to our lodging Sunday morning, and then get a ride to the arena where he was appearing. We arrived plenty early and found our seats, which weren�t bad at all, considering the place held several thousand people. We�d been told we couldn�t carry anything in, not even a purse or fanny pack, so I made the decision to leave my opera glasses behind. It turned out I could have brought them, but as we didn�t have a car with us, there�d have been no place to leave them if they were restricted. Anyway there was a big screen so we had a choice of how to look at His Holiness.

Some of the discussion was over our heads -- it was definitely not Buddhism 101 -- but it was fascinating nonetheless. �The stage was beautifully set with colorful banners, huge flower arrangements, and special rugs. �The back curtain was just the most velvety, bright red, and they'd lifted a section to make a natural entry, so that the folds made almost an archway. �He sat on a raised sort of dais, and there were meditation cushions in front of him to the right and left where some of his monks sat. �Most of them, like him, wore the red and yellow robes. �Two Chinese Buddhists at one point sang a long sequence of prayers and I didn't catch what he called it. �H.H. mostly talked in his native tongue, but sometimes chose to answer in English when he felt competent to express himself that way. It was amazing to hear him laugh -- he�d crack himself up sometimes, and then everyone else.

My favorite point, I have to say, was when he first came in. �The whole arena stood up as he entered. �He was smaller than I expected, and you know he's quite old. �But all his people were just jumping to help him, to make everything perfect, to straighten the rug. �He did his obesience. �And then he did this incredible thing before he sat down.

He turned to the monks at stage right, looked them right in the eyes, and bobbed to them with prayer hands at about face level. �He took his time, addressing them all, smiling. �There was complete silence in the arena. �They bowed back. �He turned out to all of us and did the same. �It was not a rote gesture; he was thinking�about us, looking at us. �He turned this way and that, gently, including us all. �Then to the monks, and his translator, at stage left. �Carol and I were crying a little; I heard her laughing softly in awe, which she does when she tears up. �It was the unhurried way in which he performed this simple greeting that made it so powerful. �There was nothing but now; there was all the time in the world. I don't think I've ever experienced anything quite like that before. This, obviously, was a man who practiced mindfulness.

Then he turned to the dais, and several hands reached out to help him up to his chair. He settled himself and his robes, and waved his hands casually for us to sit down. There was a great, creaky rustling as thousands of chair seats were pulled back down, and butts put into them.

********

Times are lean. We debated all weekend about whether to cancel a May weekend in Texas, where we couldn�t book enough around a festival we finally got to make the tour worthwhile. We decided to go ahead with it; it�s bad form to cancel, and so many good things can come from showing up. It�s possible we�ll lose money or just break even on the trip. It�s discouraging, disheartening. After all these years, you know. We get tired. We had some bad beds this trip, and not enough sleep. (That reminds me of the joke about the Jewish lady complaining about the restaurant: �Oh, the food was terrible! And such small portions!�) But I�ve been doing a short �joy ritual� every morning this week as part of a homework assignment, and that�s helped keep me focused on the positive. Not that I haven�t complained; not that Chris and I haven�t caught ourselves not understanding each other; but there�s a place to go when I feel a little deflated. And we�ll be home late tonight, after our 700+ mile drive today. And I don�t have to do any of the driving.

********

AND LOOK WHAT TIME IT IS.