14 November 2014
I arrived in Dharamsala several days in advance of a three day teaching His Holiness the Dalai Lama was giving at the request of Koreans on Nagurjuna's teaching on the Middle Way. I registered for the teachings at the Branch Security Office, and put down a cushion two days in advance, along with many many others.
Back in June, when I knew I was going to make this trip, I requested, humbly and with no expectation, a 5-minute private audience with HH. I knew it was out of the question, and I communicated as much to The Office of HH. I recieved from them, withing a couple of weeks of sending my letter, an email explaining that they seldom grant private audiences with HHDL, but that it was possible that I could be included in a receiving line and be greeted and blessed by HHDL during the teachings. I was to email the office on November 7 to check in, which of course I did. I affirmed that I would be in town attending the teachings and would be grateful to be included in a receiving blessing line should that work out. Several days later (on November 11th) I received a message from HHDL's Secretary saying that I would be able to be included in a recieving line, and to come to the Reception Office after Wednesday's teaching to register. I showed up, was given a form, and was asked to show up at 6:30 the next morning with the filled out form and my passport.
I woke up at 5:45 am on Thursday morning to get myself over to the Reception Office at His Holiness the Dalai Lama's compound to register for the reception blessing line. I had no idea really what to expect. I didn't sleep very well, I think a bit in anticipation of this meeting--thinking about how little I deserved the honor of meeting possibly the spiritual leader of the world (I know, the Pope is pretty serious, but HH the Dalai Lama has won a Nobel Prize for Peace and has been doing this a crazy long time). I had rehearsed in my head (for better or worse) a message the cultural guide in Tibet asked me to pass on to HHDL should I meet him. Tsering (our guide) had spent about 9 years here in Dharamsala after leaving Tibet (across the border through the Himalayas). When he went back to see his parents, he was arrested and spent 4 years in jail for the illegal travel. He asked that I send the Dalai Lama his love.
When I got to the office the security guy took my passport and asked me to wait in a waiting room. He called different groups one at a time. The first group was the Romanians. Next, the Chinese, the Mongolians, the Russians (a small group of three--they looked Chinese, but spoke Russian, it was so strange), then me. There was a small group of Indian men, and a group of Tibetans (they were last). I went through security (for a second time) and left my purse and my coat behind. I noticed that they were collecting things to be blessed by HH, and a bit in a daze, I have to admit, I took off my mala (which I had put on this morning), and took one off my wrist (that I had bought the day before), and I put them in the "blessings" tray. I was then standing in line (between the Mongolian group and the 3 Russians, who were very friendly with each other) waiting for my next instruction. This sensation has been so much a part of my trip--especially in India: I never seem to really know what's happening until it's happened. And I couldn't believe that I was about to have this once in a lifetime opportunity, and one that I felt I didn't really deserve. I'm not Tibetan, I don't come from a Buddhist culture (as most everyone else had, well, except for the Romanians!), I am not a person of note.
As we were waiting, one of the Chinese Russians who spoke impeccable English started chatting with me. It was very comforting, actually. She also seemed to know what was going on. I noticed that I could (should?) have brought a Tibetan white scarf (I had three that had been bestowed upon me in Tibet, though they were all in KTM), available at many stands along the road, but I didn't think or know to. She asked if anyone in the Mongolian group had an extra one (which was so kind of her). I figured it wasn't a big deal in the scheme of things--I was about to meet HHDL, scarf or no! (And it turned out it didn't really matter, since he didn't put scarves on any one, per se, and no one seemed to notice I lacked one.) At some point we moved up the hill to meet with HH. He was standing in the area that I guess must be the entrance to his residence and offices where people come to meet him--it's kind of a roundabout that we were coming around. I was toward the end of the line, so I got to see him greet and engage with the different groups, which was fun, and I also got to learn a little about what to expect. And he was there glowing and laughing and making jokes with the first group (Koreans), then he put on some funny (really little) hat that the Romanians had brought him. Then he met with the Chinese, and the women got on their knees, he made them get up. Smiles, some sobs, pictures.
There was a little reorganizing of me as we drew closer--I was alone, American. Everyone else appeared to be in a group, even a small one. At first I was grouped in with the Mongolians and Russians (an honorary Russian/Mongolian, "all the same" one woman said to me). Then, they determined I should be somewhere else in the line. "Where are you from?" "Are you alone?" one of the handlers asked me. "United States, I am alone, just me." I was shuffled in front of the Russians, behind the Chinese, and right behind a lone woman from India. HH asked her what state she was from, she didn't know what to say. One of his people asked her again...I didn't hear her response. He laughed, they had a picture. It was my turn. I had been guided a couple of times to where I supposed to go, and as I got closer, each step was gently indicated by one of HH's security handlers. "Wait here." "Stand here." "Step forward." As I watched the Indian woman in front of me, just a few yards away, I started to realize, "I'm about to meet His Holiness the Dalai Lama, I'm meeting His Holiness the Dalai Lama." By now I had a little bit of a sense of what would happen, and I also had no sense. I was asked to step forward, guided to HH. Time dissolved a bit. They announce my name "Jennifer Hellwarth." I lowered my body, hands at heart position (as they had been for yards now, as everyone's had). He takes my hands with his. I was utterly overwhelmed. "Your Holiness" I blurted out. Voice shaking. Was I crying? "I have recently come from Tibet and our guide,Tsering, asked that I send you his love." He smiles at me, nodding. "Yes. Yes." He says. And then "Good, good" and "thank you, thank you." I think I muttered something else. I have no idea what. I am standing with him his hands holding mine for longer than I would have imagined, though I tried not to imagine much. At some point someone turns my attention to the camera. We stand together, smiling, or I'm trying to smile--His Holiness is beaming as he does. I'm overwhelmed and starting to cry. For joy? For being given this most amazing blessing? For all those suffering and for those who His Holiness the Dalai Lama seeks to heal? The camera clicks a couple of times-two, three? Someone in there, perhaps His Holiness? hands me something, a small packet. I'm gently guided away from HH and I start down the path to retrieve my things (I've left my purse and jacket at the security office as have many others). I meet one of HH's many security guys on my walk down the hill. At this point I'm crying. Looking (or at least feeling) overwhelmed and a bit bewildered. The security guy nods at me. When I go to retrieve my things, the woman and man who held them for me see me and they smile at me, knowingly, in a kind way. They must think I'm a little nuts, those crazy Americans, not even Buddhists, wanting to see the Dalai Lama, weeping. But I also realize that this is my own self-judgement, and that if there is anybody in the world who would not judge me, it would be His Holiness the Dalai Lama. And if I have learned nothing else from His Holiness during these last few days of his teachings on the practice of Bodhicitta and "emptiness," it is to cultivate compassion for self and others, and to carry that compassion into the world as best as I can.
Later on in the day after the morning's teachings, I ran into the Russian (Chinese) woman I met in the receiving line. We chatted about where to pick up the pictures that had been taken (she knew where to go, what to do somehow). And we talked about our experience. Again, I felt comforted--she, too had felt overwhelmed. And then she said. "It is a great day." "Yes," I said. "A great day, indeed."
Some tips for the receiving line:
Bring as few things as possible and leave your cell phone and camera in your room.
Don't be late--if they tell you to arrive (with your passport and forms) at 6:30 am, show up a few minutes early.
Do bring a Tibetan scarf. It's not a big deal if you don't but it's part of the ritual--almost everyone was wearing one when they met His Holiness (I wasn't).
There is a blessing table where people place items (usually Tangkas and malas and other sacred objects) to be blessed by His Holiness after the receiving line.
Bring tissue.
Keep breathing.
Be present (I think you probably can't help it when you are in His presence).
Namaste.
Very touching (and well writen). Keep up the blogging; it lets us all share your experiences.
ReplyDeleteNamaste