I can’t afford to go see the Dalai Lama when he is in town. I understand that tickets cost a lot because they go towards a good thing, so I try to be understanding, but it bums me out a little.
On the way home from Word on the Street at the Vancouver Public Library recently, I was chilling on the 22 up Cornwall when one of those important-person-convoys drove past the bus – sirens on and lights flashing.
As I turned to look out the back window of the bus, the woman behind me shrieked.
“That was the Dalai Lama.”
My head whipped back around, almost coming off, but the moving tinted window was just a bit too far away to make out anyone inside.
Damn. I was seriously tempted to jump off the bus and run down the street after the car.
“You really saw him?” I asked.
“The back of his head…and his little outfit.”
Now, I have never understood how people get all crazy and weepy when they see a Hollywood celebrity, but at this moment I almost wept at ALMOST seeing the back of the Dalai Lama’s head.
I am not a religious person, and he is not a god. He is just a simple man. Albeit one who could really teach the world a thing or two. Not about spirituality, not about the afterlife, but about compassion and forgiveness and what it means to be human.
I catch myself being angry at the lack of global support for Tibet, at the hypocrisy of our world leaders and the backwards, yet powerful ideal that is capitalism.
But anger is not productive. It is not healthy. And it sure won’t fix the wrongs of the world.
So I try to learn from him – the Dalai Lama.
Whose honesty and forgiveness make me weep.
A Vancouver Notebook 