Students of the Dalai Lama by Derek Brennan

Three days in a row this week I woke up at 6:00 am with more energy than I ever thought was possible at such an ungodly, high school-reminiscent hour. After cramming in a shower and breakfast, me and the rest of the uncharacteristically early bird group packed in to two vans at 6:30 to take us the 40-minute drive through the tiny, winding roads up the mountains from our little study haven to the bustling streets of McLeod Ganj. This specific hour was not nearly as ungodly as it used to be when we were, say, 16. Because rather than marching into a stuffy classroom to sit scribbling at a desk for eight hours, during these three days we were the students of the patriarch of Tibetan Buddhism and world-renowned, rock star-status advocator of peace, His Holiness The Fourteenth Dalai Lama.

Upon arriving at Namgyal Monastery the first morning, we first had to go through a relatively painless security process–a step added only after the summer attack on the Bodh Gaya temple. As I understand it, today’s security at Namgyal is strict compared to before the attack. But seeing His Holiness at his home temple is not nearly as strenuous as the protocol would be, for example, to see Obama at the White House, or even to get on an international flight.

            We took our seats in a temple room just next to the lush gold-decorated main temple where His Holiness would sit. In normal circumstances, the room we sat in would be used only for secretive tantric Buddhist practices, but for these three days it was simply the English language section. Live translations of the Dalai Lama’s Tibetan lecture sounded through loud speakers above. In the correct spot you could see His Holiness at his throne through first a window and then a large doorway. A TV was placed at the front of our temple with a live close-up broadcast.

            Sitting on the cushions we brought (no chairs are provided), we talked amongst ourselves until His Holiness appeared on the screen, at which point the crowd fell silent. He made his way to the front of his temple, but not without saying hello to every sentient being he could. On the TV we watched him approach our section, and the silent crowd turned anxiously toward the door. Before I could process the significance of where I was, what I was doing, there he was.

With a wide smile, the modest Lama gave a bow of greeting to the half-sitting, half-standing, all-hands-folded crowd of Westerners, and then stuck around for what seemed like a minute to absorb the crowd and shake hands with the nearest people. Our whole Earlham group was within 15 feet of His Holiness. This is a man who sells out NBA stadiums in the States. His presence is a spectacle. While his fame leaves you star-struck, his calm humble nature makes him feel like family – especially when he laughs. He has a very rich sense of humor. He seemed to find something funny each time he greeted our crowd in the morning, and though I don’t think anyone was ever one hundred percent sure what it was, we couldn’t help but laugh along. It’s easy to see why he is believed to be the incarnation of the Buddha of Compassion.

The Dalai Lama took his place at his throne and after a chorus Tibetan chanting, began his teaching. Monks navigated through the crowds dispensing loaves of bread and cups of tea. For the next four hours (with a merciful 15 minute break in the middle) we sat upright on simple cushions with no backrest, legs crossed. While it felt like there was a fire in my knees and knives in my back, the Dalai Lama taught about the illusory nature of the body and thus pain. The dissonance in the experience was more than amusing.

So went the first two days, and on the third day we were unwittingly witness to hundreds of people taking the layperson’s Vows of Refuge under His Holiness, followed by a Bodhisattva’s vow and a tantric initiation ritual. While the thought did cross my mind to join in in order to be able to say I took vows under the Dalai Lama, I fortunately realized how non-Buddhist of a thing this would be to do. So I sat, a spectator of this relative breeze of an initiation into a major world religion.

It’s hard to imagine that I had just arrived in India three weeks ago, and have already seen the icon of hope for the people of Tibet and the pop star of peace for the people of the West, His Holiness The Dalai Lama. I’m still trying to get oriented, to process it all. I don’t know what else to say other than that I am a truly lucky person to have such an experience, and am looking forward to what the rest of these four months have to offer.