15 minutes with the Dalai Lama

I wasn't sure why I was laughing, an odd situation to find myself in that I'm a fairly serious guy. But moments after meeting the Dalai Lama, as he was blessing me by placing a white silk ceremonial scarf, or kata, around my neck, he started giggling. So did I. We sat there for a second, looking at each other, with me trying to catch myself and recognize I was shaking hands that grasped fifty years of world leaders ranging from Mao Tse Tung to American presidents, yet unable to stop giggling away like school boy.

I still couldn't quite believe how I found this moment. Yes, I've tried to suck the marrow out of most experiences and I've talked my way into more than my fair share of rich experiences, but giggling with the Dalai Lama didn't seem likely 24 hours prior. As part of our preparation for our trip, I emailed the Dalai Lama's office and told him of our group. I followed up once we got on the ground. We were thrilled to simply be in Dharamsala at a time when HH wasn't on one of his world tours, at a time where he would be holding public lectures next week. But then one of his aides called me and said we needed to be at his complex the following day to be a part of the receiving line.

So after an understanding Cross Cultural country director released guys with late volunteer placements, a ride up to McLeod and a decent security check we found ourselves sitting on a mossy ledge along a sloping driveway, inside the Dalai Lama's residential compound. As we waited, I could tell the guys were excited with some sitting quietly, while others had a short debate about the merits of two action movies, Demolition Man vs. Soldier. This is a great group.

We watched different groups of people walk up the slope and past our field of vision, stay out of sight for a few minutes, then emerge wearing huge smiles and scarves as they strolled down the hill. The first rotation were the maroon cloaked Buddhist monks, returning wearing the kata draped around their shoulders, what looked like a small red neck scarf tied in a loose knot, what looked like a scroll wrapped in yellow paper and some sort of letter. Then came what I guess were Korean Buddhists (the topic of the Dalai Lama's three day lecture); then a group of school age kids. Each passed through what we heard would be a short receiving line where our group would receive a blessing, take a photo and then quickly be escorted away.

I just tried to soak in the scene. The compound itself was anything but palatial, but that would have gone against fundamental Buddhist teachings. I saw a few hydrangeas as the sum total of the landscaping with a one story pale pink residence needing a coat of paint. With tax revenue less than the cab ride up to McLeod this could be understood.

We were close to going in, when the smiling security guard who moved us through the process, Thekchen Choeling, came and said that we would not be going up with the last group. Instead, HH would like to speak to us after the public reception. The guys started buzzing, and I recocked them to compare the experience to meeting with the Pope. End debate on Demolition Man now.

After the last group moved up the hill, Thekchen took us into the residence and we sat on low couches for a few minutes. The guys could see HHDL through a window and were a twitter. In a minute Thekchen asked us to stand and I walked out onto a porch to walk into a room with the Dalai Lama. Then came the giggling, his blessing of all the cadets. He motioned for me to sit immediately to his left. The room got quiet.

He looked over his right shoulder, to two aides sitting behind him. I heard words closely approximating military and cadet. The aides nodded approval by a short, curt bow of the head. He turned and looked at me. I sat on my thoughts and questions listening to him breathe, inhaling in tight audible breaths.

He asked me what we were doing in Dharamsala. I explained where we were from, my job, the cadets and our volunteering, and thanked him for his time and his aides for allowing us an audience. He took in a number of audible breaths where his cheeks drew tight.

He then asked the group, “So what have you learned?” I don't know why but my eyes shifted to Brian, the oldest of the group and one of my former students. Last night his question about Richard Gere was laughed off the table. But Brian pulled through and spoke to his renewed conviction towards medicine. Sean spoke elegantly about compassion towards others, despite a gulf of cultural difference. The room became quite again past the drawn breaths.

His Holiness said very good and described the ease of getting along with Tibetans, the difficulty with Indians, and the extreme difficulty of the Chinese. “Too national” he said, too mixed up after the protests against the Olympics. But he loved Americans and called us the “champions of freedom, of liberty, of democracy”. Our Army, as an Army of the American people was very good even though Iraq was very bad. We serve and protect the people. The Chinese Army, serves the party and instead of focusing on foreign, focuses on suppressing their own people. “Very sad” he said.

His infectious laugh would come out at odd times, like when describing how tragic the Iraq policy was and how much it had cost America’s standing in the Middle East to the benefit of China. I’ve read this is a true Buddhist laugh, not necessarily light hearted but in line with the desire to sweep away the troubles of your times. When it would emerge, he would turn, lean in so his face was about a foot from mine, look at me straight through the top of his large glasses, and open his mouth in a deep laugh.

He continued on Iraq, describing how he told President Bush the same opinion, and that he had a friend recently come back from Iraq stating how much it had changed for the better. The President he found to be “Very honest, very humble, yet very bad policy” and how he immediately connected with him. Surprisingly he said that Clinton held him at a wider distance, and it took three meetings to become friends.

In his last tour of America and last meeting with the President, he described his last words to George Bush. He prayed that the President could live a long life and could see the end results of his policies, to hopefully see a positive change in the Middle East. A tear, he said, formed in the President’s eye. Very sad he said. As I sat next to a man who fled his country almost fifty years ago, who has worked tirelessly for a return to Lhasa, and who has inspired and advised countless leaders, watching them come, lead and go, I think I saw the definition of compassion, to truly wish for someone else that which you hope for yourself.

He clapped his hands, said ok, we stood for pictures with him directing the tall ones to the back and the short ones to the front, clasping hands with those to his left and right. We all shook hands, as we made our attempts at Tibetan “thank yous” which produced more giggles. At the end he patted my back.

I never got the chance to ask the question on my mind the one I didn't tell the guys last night. “Who takes care of you…through an endless flow of people ranging from poor pilgrims, to Presidents to a group from West Point all wanting time, photos, advice, guidance and blessings?” Not like a world leader, whose rise and set on the stage passes in years, his only passes with death. I'm not sure exactly what he would have said, but I am sure it would have been in between a giggle.

Preparing to meet the Dalai Lama

A misty gray morning here on what should be an amazing day. We are scheduled to meet HH Dalai Lama later this afternoon.

After the 2:30 wake up yesterday, I went for a run up the mountain to McLeod Gang. It took about 26 minutes of straight up hill running. The placement went well as Yamini and I are working to get a syllabus and plan together. Brian came back from his placement at the hospital thrilled. Initially placed in the summer camp, teaching sports, this former Army medic and civilian paramedic wanted to use his skills as best as possible. He asked to be reassigned and again Cross Cultural staff accommodated. After seeing what they do with so little (bleaching and reusing latex gloves, an ambulance empty past a wooden bench, etc) he talked about a new path in life.

Following the placement, I crashed for an hour and was awoken by a call from HHDL’s office. Where I thought we had an outside chance to meet HHDL when he was coming or going from one of his teachings, I didn’t expect a call so soon. Tenzin Takhla, in perfect English, stated that we would need to be up at the Government in Exile’s headquarters at 11:45 so we could pass through security. Except for not bringing cameras (they would have an official photographer take the photos), little other guidance as to behavior, dress, 2qw given. He suggested we meet with the Department of Information, one of the seven cabinet level departments within their executive prior to the meeting.

First we needed clearance from Cross Cultural solutions; meeting at 11:45 meant that many of the cadets would miss their placement that day. I spoke with the country director back in Delhi to get the approval. She was thrilled, supportive, and only asked that I conveyed to the non-West Point volunteers that this was something in the works for many months to prevent a stampede.

Grabbed the guys and headed up the mountain to the Government in Exile. After a couple or wrong turns, we ended up in the small compound, about halfway up the mountain between Dharamsala and McLeod. We were met by Masood Butt, an employee of the Department of Information. He sat with us and explained the political structure and answered our questions well past the office’s closing time.

He described a judiciary that must work within the Indian judicial system (reminded me of how the U.S. military is governed when stationed abroad, through Status of Forces Agreements (SOFA)s), and a complex election allocation that polls the roughly 100,000 Tibetan refugees spread across the world to select 43 parliamentarians and their chief executive every five years. Parties have not developed in this system, instead Madison’s prediction of faction balancing faction manifests in the legislative checking the executive. Six parliamentary seats are reserved for women but more than that are serving in this parliament.

Green books given to every official refugee over the age of six, prove status and also contribution to the government. Those in India are asked to give 56 rupees a year (yes…$1.25, a little more than I’ve paid for a Diet Coke). If they are salaried by the government or more well off, they are asked to give 2% of their income. Dependent on the repatriations from Tibetans abroad (Masood estimated 3-4,000 in North America), all payments are recorded in their personal green books. He recommended asking people to produce these to prove their true Tibetan status.

As monkeys fought in a tree just outside the lobby, the guys asked some great questions, specifically about the Dalai Lama’s role and the prospects of a return to Tibet. Masood stated how the government was modeled after the Indian system, with a President serving as a nominal head of state. The Dalai Lama served this role, but far more than nominal, would be involved in all major issues.

He talked with certainty about the end of exile, “When we return to China, we will dissolve this government.” Masood stated the three main stumbling blocks for a return would be first, China’s insistence on the Dalai Lama stated Tibet’s place within China both in the past and today, second, bringing the three traditional provinces into Tibet (the current Tibetan Autonomous Region or TAR encompasses only about 50% of the land Tibetans claim) and third, the amount of internal autonomy granted to Tibet to govern within China. The prospects of all three seem dim; even if history could be rewritten, I just can’t picture the PRC allowing a democracy to flourish within its borders, especially one that claims a huge swath of increasingly important territory (traditional Tibet is the source of water for the major rivers of both China and India and therefore 35% of the world’s population).

When I asked about the Olympics, Masood began with the official answer—that the administration is not against the Olympics and the HHDL has expressed his support of China hosting the event from the start. I pressed on his opinion of the protests against the torch and how his office was prepared for what would likely occur around the world. He emphasized that the government’s ability to control the many NGOs and Tibet support groups, each with their own agenda, was limited to appealing to them, which had occurred. In a democracy, he stated, there is always space for dissent. He admitted the difficult of this period of time when stating, “The Olympics will come. They will go. But the dialogue with China and our eventual return will continue.”

After some final tips on protocol for the meeting, we thanked him and walked outside. Huge monkeys leapt from buildings, to powerlines, to trees, right past a huge banner protesting the Olympics.

Afterwards, we headed up to McLeod. Some of the guys picked up some of the beautiful, delicate white silk scarves that will be presented to HHDL, while others did a primer on Tibetan greetings. At dinner, Loc and Kris gave a fantastic reminder lecture on Buddhism. Loc doesn’t say much, but when the topic is either Buddhism or his time as a squad leader for new cadets, he has much to say. As we ate our power outage produced candlelight dinner, the guys asked questions about Buddhism and debated its merits. The guys put forward the question they would ask if given a chance and settled on Loc’s if we only had one—reconciling Buddhist philosophy with their chosen military profession.

Now headed out to our placements, I hope they get the chance to ask their question.