The Dalai Lama: Shallow Thoughts on a Deep Man
Say what you want about Arkansas, but before I moved here I didn't have the opportunity to be in the presence of both David Sedaris and the Dalai Lama – within a few weeks and a half mile of one another. While I had intended to read up on the Holy Dude before seeing him this morning, I didn't quite get to that. I was busy with more important things like filling out enrollment paperwork and cross referencing my calendar with my to-do list. This was all for the best, it turned out. As I had few expectations.
"I'm in the spirit, right?" I asked my companions as we walked across the University of Arkansas campus.
"Yes, release yourself from the attachment to permanence," one of them quipped.
"That's easy to say," said the other, "when you've been reincarnated fourteen times."
Not exactly devotees, the three of us, but seekers still, hoping for a bit of inspiration, a moment of clarity while in the presence of the Great Man.
And then he came out, looking like a cuddly red frog, using far fewer words than the others on the panel. (Sister Helen Prejean and Vincent Harding). I held back laughter reading the following tweet:
@Ozarkbahner – Dalai Lama lowering from arena rafters on stage wire, crowd ERUPTS as opening hook from "Panama" plays! #HHDL #1984
But despite the dramatic lighting and the theatrical drapes, HHDL was surprisingly mellow. He was at once wholly authoritative and wholly humble. His style was not showy or arrogant, but calm and knowing. He wasn't preachy, never once speaking of BEing anything, but that we practice compassion and tolerance. Practice.
And he was funny, utterly charming, even though it was tough to make out each and every word.
Then some woman at the top of Bud Walton Arena screamed "Louder!"
Only in Arkansas.
I cringed. But His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama was unfazed. He checked his mic and then said, "I think the sound is sufficient." No drama. All while sitting crossed legged on a couch, and scratching himself as needed. We could use more leaders like this, spiritual or otherwise.
I like to think our talk on the way out was a bit elevated by all the holiness, that the message of compassion and connection would last longer than the commute back to Bentonville. We shall see. One thing's sure, I'll never hear Van Halen the same way again.
