Circumstances Really Matter

I had the great privilege of being in the presence of the 14th Dalai Lama, Tenzin Gyatso. The awareness I gained from having been in His presence not once but twice, makes the experience worth sharing.

The first time I was at a retreat at the Lama Tzong Khapa Institute in Tuscany, Italy, in 1995. Several hundred people were attending the Lama’s teachings over the course of a few days. The institute is on top of a hill surrounded by lush mediterranean vegetation in one of Italy’s wildest regions, Maremma: a place of timeless beauty. The sounds were of quiet prayers, cicadas, birds singing and the wind; the smells were of late summer flowers, pine trees and occasional whiffs of spices and fresh vegetables cooking in the large kitchen for our meals; The sights were of swooping pines filtering the sunlight and lush late summer vegetation.

Most guests were spending the nights in small tents in the impeccably kept garden surrounding the institute. At dusk, very friendly cats would unabashedly come inside the tents and curl up next to us, purring us to sleep. My body felt at peace and my mind adapted to the peaceful rythm of my surroundings.

The last day of lecture I was sitting towards the back under the large open lecture tent that housed us all; the front seats were reserved for practicing buddhists and VIPs, including Richard Gere and 80’s Bond girl, Carey Lowell. When the lecture ended, the Lama remained seated on his large meditation cushion with his characteristic ‘half smile’ while one of the monks let us know that the lecture was over and that we could leave the tent so that the Lama could offer the khata (white scarf) to the practicing buddhists present. For the first few minutes, nobody moved from their seats. The monk repeated the announcemet, making it more of a request for us to leave and showing us the back exits. The Lama sat unperturbed with his facial expression of inner joy and compassion.

Many people got up from their seats and starting walking towards the front of the tent, rubbernecking towards the direction where Richard Gere was sitting. The Lama’s facial expression never changed. He was looking at us with his usual compassion. All the monks followed his lead and sat on their cushions. Unexpectedly, my eyes met the Dalai Lama’s eyes. I felt a jolt of shame that immediately turned into action. I took a good look at the people around me, still turning their necks towards the side where the famous guests were sitting, and then briskly walked towards the back of the tent to leave the premises as we were asked. I walked around the garden for a long time by myself and soaked in all its beauty without any awareness of time.

As I was making my way back to the tent looking on the ground to collect pine nuts and pinecones, I walked past the entrance of the main house. I looked up so I wouldn’t walk into the person crossing my path. I stopped in my tracks. Richard Gere was walking right past me.

I believed that the teaching was that, if you let go, paradoxically you open yourself to unexpected possibilities. I didn’t necessarily desire to ‘see’ Richard Gere even when I was under the tent but, unlike the people that stayed, I did ultimately see him up close.

It wasn’t until the second time I saw the Dalai Lama that the ultimate lesson became apparent to me.

In October 1999 the Dalai Lama was scheduled to visit Milan (Italy) for a major fundraising benefit concert. The fundraiser was in the evening and, during the day, the Lama had scheduled a visit to the local Buddhist temple and community. I was living in Milan for several months as I had taken a research job with a pharmaceutical company. In the evenings I would take Tai Chi lessons with Kim, a wonderful teacher and Vietnamese refugee who found her new home in Italy after escaping the war. She let me know the Dalai Lama was going to visit her temple and, very excitedly, invited me to join the community so I could be in His presence again. I paid my membership fees and eagerly waited for the day to come. Kim and I took the subway together from the outskirts of Milan and headed to the temple. Although we were about an hour early for the scheduled event, the street was really busy with several hundred people all looking towards the temple and they were not happy. RAI, the Italian national television was there and a helicopter was circling above us and several police cars were standing by: chaos.

The Dalai Lama’s presence had been heavily advertised and too many people showed up. Many, like me, had paid membership to the temple in order to be present and now we were being denied entry. Kim and I found a raised spot to stand on and soak in what was happening. A monk came out on the temple’s balcony and asked us to be quiet so he could speak; he let us know that he was happy we were there but that we now needed to leave because the Lama had to leave the temple to get to the fundraiser and could not get out. Nobody moved.

Several minutes went by and then, finally, the Dalai Lama appeared on the balcony with the monk that had asked us to leave. The Lama’s expression was not the one I had left him with under the tent that first time. He was visibly tired and had a forced smile. In that moment I realized he was stressed. Of course he is stressed! This is Milan! Everyone’s stress level rises here and He has somewhere to be! He is probably worried about traffic and being late! It’s Milan!

The Lama waived at us and then made a gesture with his arm, asking us to leave. The crowd slowly dispersed and the police cars came into action and escorted the Lama’s car out of the building and off into Milan’s traffic.

I felt so much closer to the Dalai Lama at that moment. I saw his humanity and I understood that circumstances matter and a lot of invisible work goes into having that peaceful and serene expression he has most of the time, but not today.

This experience helped me be a little kinder towards myself and made me start to understand that who I surround myself with and where I am is really important in regards to the way I feel. It seems like a trivial epiphany but I felt it so deeply that it always stayed with me.

A few weeks later the temple reinbursed the people that bought memberships and did not get in the building, including me.

Later in life, as I studied psychology, I stumbled upon papers that described time pressure being a barrier to kindness; that under severe time constraints, individuals are more likely to perceive routine requests from others as burdensome rather than opportunities for connection and that high workloads and time poverty narrow our focus and deplete our patience.

I felt and witnessed it.