The sound of one heart beating
By Ann-Marie Stillion
Northwest Asian Weekly
For the
last few days, the Dalai Lama seems to be everywhere in Seattle.
On the TV news, in the blogs, in the newspapers. People chat on the
bus about when they last saw him. I get e-mails from friends — will
you see him? There is the sense of something momentous surrounding
the monk who represents both Buddhism and the Tibetan people.
He came this week to talk with scientists, caregivers, musicians,
educators and anybody who cares to ... about compassion. Like those
beautiful Buddhist paintings where one image splits into a thousand,
his colorful robes and brilliant smile are everywhere. And everywhere
we are learning, learning about nonviolence and how it is achieved.
In each talk he gives, he listens as passionately as he speaks.
Tibet,
the Olympics and China were off-limits in the compassion discussion,
but one panelist couldn’t resist an oblique question: How have
you personally nurtured compassion in your life situation?
The Dalai Lama pulled on a visor just then. He looks slightly comical
but eminently comfortable tucked inside layers of crimson cloth. He
leans and looks directly into the eyes of his questioner. He pauses,
with a quick question to his translator, before speaking.
Slowly,
his words rising into rafters of the coliseum, I hear him say that
the practice of compassion was natural for him, but then he studied
and learned. Again and again he returns to this theme throughout
this talk. We are born, and then we must study and use our minds
if we hope to achieve anything. Someone else anxiously asks, “Why
is there so much violence and how do we change in the face of it?”
I loved
his answer: In the past we could live separately, far from one another.
But not now — now, we are connected. We must see
each action and consider it in relation to the whole world.
Inside my own mind, I marvel as I notice that I can see quite clearly
what he is saying. Yes, of course. Technology, global markets, shared
existence on the earth itself. A lifetime of speaking to world leaders,
and people around the globe congeal. His simple words reach my heart.
But wait,
there is another side to this coin — in China, he
is hated and feared. Reviled, even, and blamed for ordering others
to kill. He is also condemned for not fighting back by some fellow
Tibetans. Longtime allies are busy penning detailed histories which
note that he is, after all, a poor politician. Some of my friends,
Chinese Americans here in Seattle, I discover, are busy themselves
planning protests.
For those who are thrilled by his presence, however, the outrage is
puzzling to say the least or, we must sadly conclude, an obvious distortion
for political purposes.
In Seattle
today, he is clearly loved, admired and popular with the majority.
His broad face beams at us and we beam back. This morning on the
bus to work, a brownie troop plays and passes the time on the way
to see the religious leader. It is children’s day and the
news reports that 14,000 students were bussed in to learn about kindness
from a man who was driven from his homeland decades ago, only to find
himself revered throughout the world.
Yesterday
as I walked home in the cold Seattle drizzle, a headline declared, “China can change.” The
sign of hope gladdens me.
My visit with His Holiness was on April 11 at the Seattle Center Key
Arena. When an unexpected ticket fell into my hands, I ran, anticipating
the joy to follow. He was scheduled in the afternoon to talk more with
experts on the scientific and measurable aspects of compassion. In
the morning session, someone told me that he had talked about two kinds
of compassion: limited and unlimited. We have more than one kind of
intelligence and must learn to use our minds in the service of compassion
as well as knowledge.
Most of
us can pull off limited compassion. But the unbounded compassion
towards enemies and against our own habits is harder. “Love your
enemies and do good to those who hate you,” Jesus’ words
come alive in the Dalai Lama, I notice.
Hero,
human or God, encountering the Dalai Lama leaves me kinder, more
thoughtful, feeling blessed, eager, growing in ways I seek. Conflicts
remain in our hearts, between people and nations. But many others,
maybe thousands, sense the same beckoning for more tenderness in our
days.
Ann-Marie Stillion can be reached at annmarie@nwasianweekly.com.