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dharma in d.c. | ||
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The next morning went smoothly: Watered the garden, fed the fish, biked over to a friend's art show, bought film and a tape recorder, and then I grabbed my bags and left. It had been several months since my last road mission. This certainly was the most important one I had undertaken. I mean, if I could drive all the way from Santa Fe to Columbus to see 'The Phantom Menace,' how could I not put four on the floor to see and hear the Dalai Lama? I realized (again) how I get too down on myself, too caught up in myself, and how I hold on to so much fear and doubt. "Let go and go" became my mantra along I-70. I made a stop in Washington, Pennsylvania. I had breakfast and dinner at Denny's and then got back behind the wheel. Only the car didn't seem to want to leave. After an hour of stalled starts, fluids checks and prodding parts, the situation changed and I charged full-on toward the Cumberland Gap. I didn't stop again (afraid of what the car would or wouldn't do if I did) until I saw Metro signs and an Econo Lodge in East Falls Church, Virginia. I got the last relatively inexpensive room in the joint (which was fortunate, since it hadn't crossed my mind that I had just driven into the capital on Independence Day weekend). I sauntered into my room, washed off the road, read an issue of Shambhala Sun and then turned out the lights... I checked out, grabbed my continental cookies and juice, and pulled into the park-n-ride lot just before 8 a.m. I was relaxed but I was also approaching the verge of tears. I thought of all the half-baked, irrational, must-go must-do trips I'd gone on before, all the time and money and energy thrown into trying to find something to latch onto or to discover. My attitude and perspective had changed considerably since that time (only a few months, really). I was amazed at how, after so much wandering and drama, following a path of confusion and self-destruction, I was standing on a train platform in the District of Columbia, a matter of minutes away from... well, I didn't know what. Some peace, some purpose, something of a payoff for the direction in which I had turned my life. The crowds at each station became larger as the train got closer to the Mall. When we arrived at the Smithsonian stop, almost all of the passengers quickly and quietly filed off. If I had thought twice, it would have made sense to stay on until the L'Enfant station, because there would've been no crowd to mill through. But by that point, I was captive to the mass-motion emotion, and it was a good one. The station emptied out right onto the Mall. There was something about the sound of so many feet striding across dirt and stones, with low clouds of dust catching the sunlight, that quietly screamed "pilgrimage" to my mind. For the Tibetans and the other Buddhists, it certainly had to have been one. Even for the rest of us, the curious and the seekers, this was something (I hope) beyond a celebrity appearance. People were so calm, no one seemed to be jockeying ahead or jostling through the crowds. It was relatively quiet, what with the hundreds of people around me. Over the voices came the chants. And the music. Or maybe it was the music and then the chants. It sounded too much like 'Kundun' for a second, with the muted horns and deep intonations. Then I remembered that of course the sounds would be the same, because that wasn't fiction. The music followed the tradition that followed the religion that included the monks on that stage and His Holiness in the wings. This was real, and I was seeing and hearing it before me. The lawn in front of the stage steadily filled. Several thousand people were crowded into a mass that was one hundred yards wide. Hundreds more had begun to place themselves on the grass to the sides. Dozens of monks were seated in a cordoned section directly in front of the stage. The stage itself was two stories high with brocade banners that hung from the towers. Six- or eight-foot tall thangkas of Shakyamuni Buddha and Chenrezig waved in the wind above stage-rear. Thick arrangements of flowers spilled over the front of the stage, which was crowded with monks, microphones, audiovisual crew and Secret Service agents*. I stood on the dirt path and listened to the explanation of the history of the Monlam Chenmo, the Great Prayer Festival for World Peace. This was the first time that this ceremony had been conducted in the West. The monks were engaged in debate of the Buddha's teaching as the crowds arrived. While the speaker talked, earnest shouts would rise up from the group behind him. The tone shifted, the monks on stage rearranged themselves, and the people on the ground all rose. There was nothing to see except for the video screen behind the stage. A minute or two passed, and then I think music or chants began. The only thing I remember clearly was that as His Holiness** was shown ascending the stairs, I began to cry. The sense that my existence and fortune had lead to that moment, having a place among so many other people in that place and time, was immediately overwhelming and reassuring. I believe that it was the evidence of how hope and determination can be rewarded, and how all beings seek and deserve happiness and meaningful fulfillment, and how energy and emotion focused on those conditions can have such profound impact -- all of that hit me in that moment and it's still having an effect on me days later. That you should come to understand and seek the same conditions in your life, and put the effort into sharing and cultivating the same energy and equanimity with others, is all that I can say to you. It's what I'll continue to hope and pray for and find ways to apply and practice. I wish that we can all do the same.
*Even some of the SS agents smiled and laughed -- but only for a few seconds, and only in the time between the monlam and the address.
**I made an audio recording of His Holiness' address, as well as the show put on by members of the Tibetan Institute for Performing Arts. A transcript of the former is available right here.
Tibetan Government-in-Exile May any merit generated by the presentation of these contents be shared among all beings. |
 Thousands congegrated on the National Mall to see and hear His Holiness
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