A Day with the Dalai Lama

Because it’s not every day one gets to sit in the presence of the Dalai Lama, I thought I’d share some of my experience doing just that. Somehow it didn’t matter that I shared him with 18,000 other people who no doubt felt the same way ~ that it was an honor and a privilege and truly lovely to feel some of his sweetness and magnificence, live and in person. For that, I am fairly wowed.

photo courtesy of dalailama.com

photo courtesy of dalailama.com

One week ago today, three friends and I had prime seating at Anaheim’s Honda Center, host to a 3-day Global Compassion Summit organized by the Friends of the Dalai Lama. The theme for our day was to be “The Transformative Power of Art and Creativity” (how perfect is that?) as well as a special day of celebration for His Holiness’ 80th birthday.

His birthday wish? The well-being of others. “If humanity is happy, then I’ll be happy, because each of us is dependent on others.”

The Dalai Lama has dedicated his life to the well-being of others; to inner peace as a means to outer peace; to forgiveness; to gratitude; to acts of kindness. He is a force for good, with a message that consistently reminds us to be more compassionate in all we do; with others, with ourselves, and with our planet. It’s a beautiful message. A necessary message. A message that requires action. And in this, His Holiness is exemplary; the very essence of love and compassion. And joy. (Have you heard his laughter? It’s infectious, sheer delight.)

And so we gathered in Anaheim expecting to be graced by not only his presence, but by an event appropriately reverent and reflective of his spirit and his life’s work. As event host Ann Curry told us, because the Dalai Lama always gives so much to others, it was a day to give to the Dalai Lama.

I imagined Tibetan monks, perhaps some chanting. Tibetan music. Dance. Art. (Remember the theme?) Perhaps a prayer or meditation at the beginning or end, or interspersed between speakers and entertainers and birthday cake. I expected stimulating discussions. Something inspiring, uplifting. Something with heart. And with joy.

Instead, we were barraged by two-plus hours of an odd mix of environmental scientists, a few nobel peace laureates, and several second-tier celebrities giving generally self-important speeches around and about the value of compassion. Naturally some were better than others, and while it doesn’t really matter if I recognized them or not, some of those I did recognize had me shaking my head (M.C. Hammer?) There were videos with birthday wishes for His Holiness from people who couldn’t attend the event ~ there again, with the exception of Desmond Tutu and his wife, I’m not sure the significance or value of the chosen set of well-wishers. There was also a big push for people to tweet about compassion. (How very 2015.) So people could feel good about themselves without having to do anything? (Excuse my cynicism. I do understand the idea that at least, even for a 140-character moment, it puts compassion in mind. Spread the word. Jump on the bandwagon. Use social media, I get that. The thing is, compassion is an act, not a promise of one. Okay, rant over.)

There were some high moments ~ particularly when children were involved, the Dalai Lama positively glowed. We were moved by Venerable Lama Tenzin Dhonden’s words (Personal Emissary for Peace to His Holiness the Dalai Lama, and Founder and Chair of the independent, non-profit Friends of the Dalai Lama), and I particularly liked the fact that artists were adding finishing touches to the murals stage right and left. (I had hoped that that “interactive” element would have been carried through, but it was not.) When His Holiness spoke (yes, he did finally get a chance), we hung on every word. And he showed his marvelous humor at times, even suggesting that we in the audience “imagine we are enjoying a piece of the cake he was about to eat”.

Yes, there was cake. It was bigger than life and looked rather like gold-painted plastic. There was also a horrendous “gift” at the end with a dancer inside a lotus contraption with space-age music playing and I literally could not conjure a connection to the Dalai Lama, his life or his message in any way, shape or form (except for the symbolism of the lotus itself). This was the big reveal, so to speak. Really? And he would think this was neat, why?

I actually came away feeling embarrassed ~ was this the best we could do with the rare and high honor of celebrating this great man’s 80th birthday? There was a lot of fluff and a lot of ego and a general lacking of soul. Unbefitting.

And yet, there he was, the Dalai Lama, the picture of grace and patience and I would assume detached appreciation.

One has to wonder though, as one of the world’s great spiritual leaders, as someone who’s experienced enormous strife and lived a non-materialistic life devoted to genuine care for humanity ~ and simply as a human being himself! ~ how this largely superficial spectacle came across. Of course, well practiced in the art of inner peace, he was probably fine.

But, oh, what this event could have been.

And that all said… despite my reaction to the whole ~ the good, the bad, and even the ugly ~ I’m still wildly glad I had this very special opportunity to be there. It was an honor. He is that wonderful. And I hope his wish will come true one day soon.

artist applying finishing touches to mural, stage right and left

artist applying finishing touches to mural, stage right and left

 

photo courtesy of dalailama.com

photo courtesy of dalailama.com

photo courtesy of dalailama.com

photo courtesy of dalailama.com

My favorite moment: the Dalai Lama thanking the children's Agape Choir. (photo courtesy of dalailama.com)

My favorite moment: the Dalai Lama thanking the children’s Agape Choir. (photo courtesy of dalailama.com)

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Outrageous Happiness #18: Do Stuff

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Accept invitations. Go places. Be spontaneous. Break routine, crack your shell, burst your seams a bit! Say “yes” to adventure. Do stuff you haven’t done before.

For someone whose nose is usually found inches from the grindstone, I do love a good adventure. I’ve been known to “up and go places” (mostly pre-motherhood, I will admit, but that will change…) – occasionally up-and-staying longer than expected. Two weeks in the Greek Islands turned into four. A week in Sedona turned into nearly 6 months. Africa called, I answered; hippos and lions growling in the night, guards with spears outside my door (trusting they knew how to use them), hot-air ballooning over the Maasai Mara, dining on a long red cloth sprawled out on the plains.

Granted, there are some adventures I’ll never take. Climbing Mt. Everest? I’ll gladly leave that to those who like to dangle from high ledges and don’t mind cold-to-the-bone. And while a stone’s throw away, I’ve managed to skip New Year’s Eve in Times Square. (Something about crowds and – yes – cold, again.)

But an outdoor summer concert in the rain, complete with impromptu slip’n slide tarps? Sure! A whirlwind trip to southern California to be part of the Dalai Lama’s 80th birthday bash? Absolutely! A chance to meet friends I’ve never met? Big yes.

Memories made. Bonds of friendship strengthened. Things to gripe about (after all they’re part of the experience too, like air travel… ) but mostly, Things to rejoice (did I mention the Dalai Lama? 🙂 ). Sharing time with wonderful people; excellent. Making a scene of hugs and laughter and non-stop talking in Santa Monica with friends-I’d-not-yet-met but feel I’ve known for lifetimes; priceless. Gratitude. Gratitude. For the opportunities, the generosity and kindnesses, the fun, the enrichment.

I could have easily not gone. I have too much work; too little time. I have too much responsibility and not enough money. I’m tired. What if this, what if that. But sometimes you really just need to say “yes”. Because what if it’s wonderful?

Caveat: Saying yes to adventure doesn’t have to be Africa or half a year on an unplanned artistic sabbatical, or a good seat for the Dalai Lama. Truth be told, there have been times when a trip to the grocery store felt like an adventure. Reading a fabulous book can be a marvelously grand adventure. Calling someone you haven’t seen in ages; an impromptu outing to a local watering hole; a bike ride with no plan; walking the unbeaten path through the woods; choosing the road less traveled; wearing the purple hat; taking those singing lessons, volunteering at an old folk’s home, reaching out about something you’ve thought of doing but never knew how to start. No matter how large or small, it’s taking steps into the unknown, uncharted, unpredictable.

Adventure is a thing of spirit that beckons us to leap and stretch our wings. It can fill our hearts with gladness, our stomachs with butterflies, our eyes with wonder – or simply shift the mood of a day, a week, a year. It’s an unleashing. A chance to breathe new life into our veins. A chance to feel outrageously happy.

In our busy, overly compressed lives, adventure is throwing caution to the wind for a little while. But even just a little while can be like ripples in a pond, the effects reaching farther and deeper than we imagined. Planned or unplanned, we grow. We won’t be the same. And that’s called living.

adventure.VW2

How’s your Outrageous Happiness going?

 

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Tea, Guacamole and A Blanket

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Intention: Early morning Sun Salutations. Long walks along the shore; the wide, cream-colored beach hedged by flowering dunes and solid, old homes with weathered shingles and thick white pillars holding up wrap-around porches. Bike rides and ice cream and warm sea breezes fueling inspirations that spread themselves like butter, page after page, in my notebooks. Skin, tingling and alive from the surf and the sun. Hair in happy, salty tangles. Laughter as the sun makes long shadows in the sand and friends share a toast to the tides; to each other; to the red glow on our shoulders (pass the aloe, please). Meditations under the moon; breaths keeping time with the rumbling, tumbling, humbling waves.

Reality: Early morning drizzle followed by chilly, windy torrents. Cold; did I mention, cold? My giant-sized, fluffy red blanket and I step, daily, onto the thick-pillar-adorned porch to admire the angry sea’s spectacular beauty; this week she’s a pounding, twisting, frothy tempest. My blanket-bundled self takes 20 yard walks to the bench at the top of the beach, finds a dry-ish spot to watch the sky for signs of sunshine. Friends arrive, singing “the sun’ll come out, tomorrow…”. My girls, generally hunkered down with their laptops and phones, are otherwise perfecting their omelette and smoothie-making skills. We eat exorbitant amounts of whole-wheat tortilla chips with guacamole dip. We find that Scotty’s fresh flounder tastes just as good in stormy weather as it does in good weather. Thank goodness I remembered to pack the Scrabble board and card decks. And my red blanket.

But still, it’s not enough to see the sea, I need to stand close, near the edge (but not so near to risk dipping my blanket in the surf) ~ so we venture time and again onto the wide, cream-colored coastline and marvel at the ocean’s extraordinary magnificence. My blanket and I enjoy tea under the eaves by the flowering dunes. We read. We take pictures and post them on Instagram. During a break in the unforgiving wind and rain we settle into a comfy spot on the soft sand and attempt to write in my notebook.

Drip.

Drop.

“Oh cruel fate . . . why do you mock me?”

Surrender.

So it’s short walks, no bikes. Ice cream, no warm breezes. Writing inside, not out. Skip the aloe. And despite the lack of shadows for five straight days, we do laugh; and we share toasts to the tides, and, mostly, to each other.

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saxton_flowering.dunes.foggy

saxton_mygirlsonbeach

saxton_clam.shells

saxton_blanket.sea

“Serenely full, the epicure would say, Fate cannot harm me; I have dined to-day.”
– Sydney Smith (1771 – 1845)

 

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Outrageous Happiness #17: Seizing Moments

When something happy/pleasant/cheerful crosses your path, embrace it. Seize that moment! Enjoy it. Savor it. Let it seep in so you really feel it – no ifs, ands or buts! No “if only (fill in the blank) wasn’t going on so I could really enjoy that.” No “and now something’s bound to ruin this.” No “but I can’t stop to appreciate that, I’m too busy.” None of that. No, no, no.

We’re talking simple things (or big things ~ hey, no discrimination here on size of joy!). Maybe it’s noticing a tree with particularly pretty blossoms. Maybe it’s the sunlight through a red leaf. Maybe it’s a compliment received, or a perfectly cooked plate of fresh vegetables. A goldfinch on your bird-feeder. A favorite song on the radio.

Or maybe it’s a picture, like this one of my daughter, which made me smile on a whole bunch of levels and reminded me how much I love paint and the creative spirit and happy, unpredictable messes. I could have given it a quick “oh, I adore this!” and gone back to my at-the-time incredibly heavy workload, but I chose to take it in, let the happy feeling fill my space for a little longer.

And that ~ moments grabbed, even briefly ~ can make a real difference in the bigger picture. They add up. They might even become habit-forming.

saxton_happiness

saxton_urgeyoutopleasenotice

 

How’s your Outrageous Happiness going?

 

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Praising Mother Earth

“I love not man the less, but Nature more.” ~ Lord Byron

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After a month or more of intensely intense (yes, twice for emphasis) deadlines ~ sanity sustained by pure will, innumerable chats with the Universe, bouts of lavender sniffing and heaping doses of hot fudge ~ I look out my window and see a lone tulip in an unexpected spot, happy and proud as can be where it landed; and while admiring this cheerful sprout, I’m reminded that we have arrived at Earth Day.

In my still rattled brain, I can’t recall if there’s something more significant to Earth Day than honoring this amazing planet we call home, but that’s enough for me.

I grew up with woods as my private playground, with lawn and gardens and trees attentively cared for by my farmer-turned-engineer father whose love for the earth was profound ~ all of which found its way into my mother’s poetry and onto my the pages of my sketchbooks (when my presence wasn’t required for the dreaded chore of weeding). It also found its way into my heart.

I am a lover of the earth. I have, on occasion, been known to hug trees. I find solace in mountains, renewal in the sea, joy in the nightingale’s song and peace while digging in the dirt. I love a cathedral ceiling of deep green hickory leaves as much as the wide open, top-down desert sky watching over red clay carpet and brightly colored lizards and noble cactus families. Grass between my toes. Wind in my hair. Sun on my skin. Rain on my roof. All of it.

The earth is miracle after miracle. Inspiration. Replenishment. It is living, breathing strength, tenderness, wisdom and resilience.

Be good to Mother Earth. She is our lifeblood.

saxton_earthhasmusic

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Really, I'm Fine

These things are sent to try us. When it rains it pours. This too shall pass. All things for a reason. Yada yada.

Sometimes life seems to run roughshod over your best intentions. Drizzling calamity over your best laid plans, mocking your sense of responsibility. (You got that covered? HA! I think not.) Throw in this twist and that turn, this disappointment and that aggravation, and pretty soon even the most stoic among us become like Sandra Boynton’s cow in the field.

sandra.boynton_cow

Yea. Sometimes that happens. And yet, the show must go on. And it ain’t over ’til the fat lady sings. But not to worry, because all’s well that ends well. 😉

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Staying Humble

There’s the occasional foot-in-mouth moment. The you-can’t-explain-why times. The useless but sometimes enlightening what-was-I-thinking’s. The poorly timed brain overload creating havoc with numbers (oops, I was only kidding?). And there’s always a child somewhere to help you keep it real.

And then, of course, there’s this. This grand, sweeping, marvelous magnificence of raw power and rumbling passion and crashing, curling waves that pound and push and pull (with equal parts grace and ferocity) on impossibly soft sand beneath never-ending cobalt skies ~ this incredible vastness where mermaids live and giant, finned beasts taunt sailors who chart their course by stars that shine from even more unfathomably large heavens above; all of this, too, will keep one humble.

njcoast_saxton

You work. You love, and play, and learn. Laugh and cry. Scream out loud, shrivel into quiet corners. You try. You do your best, and wear your super-human-hero cape with pride. Even so, you always, always, at some point, find yourself inadequate. Or wrong. Or just unprepared. Because that’s the stuff of life ~ the mystery and the magic, the smooth, the bumpy, the “a-ha’s” and the “oh shit’s”.

We’re not meant to get it right all the time. It’s lovely when we do. It can feel ugly when we don’t. It’s exhausting and glorious (with equal parts grace and ferocity). No matter how high we climb the proverbial ladder, no matter how good, how brilliant, how well-intentioned ~ there will always be something to keep us humble. We’re just travelers, after all. All of us.

palm.island.waves_saxton

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Outrageous Happiness #16: Purple Doors and Other Beautiful Things

saxton.outrageous_beauty

As the snow rages on here in the northeast, winter stubbornly insisting on showing its power over mortal beings, my discontent (affectionately called cabin fever) is assuaged by firewood and chocolate and beautiful things.

Because beauty, even in the middle of winter, is always within arms reach. The snowfall itself is a thing of beauty; but even then, yes, one gets restless for gardens and seagulls and afternoons on the porch. So I find bits of joy and comfort in things out of reach ~ things I can imagine, or dream of, or plan for. And somehow, just knowing that the purple doors below exist somewhere makes me happy.

Right, right, things, in and of themselves, do not “make us happy”. And what an empty existence it would be if we prized things over love, laughter and companionship. But our hearts can make us happy, and things can touch our hearts. Beautiful things.

Like a gorgeously purple garden gate, detailed by someone’s skilled hand. Like a well-made chest of drawers, or a child’s painting. An exquisite vase, a red cardinal on a branch, the smell of muffins in the oven, a tulip field, a perfectly comfortable chair with a lovely covering. All things of beauty in their way – expressions of love, a medium for experiencing this life with all the senses; to touch and see and hear and feel the endless multitudes of tastes and textures we have the opportunity to know.

What is life if not for diving in to sample its delicious variety. And what magnitude abounds! Even if we can’t see, hear or touch every bit, we can appreciate God’s – the Universe’s – the Great Creator’s – handiwork at every single turn. And the fruits of our own labors, too – the music, the art, the dance, the carefully crafted violin, the windmill, the garden gate.

We can appreciate the lush carpet beneath our feet, whether made of wool or sand or heather.

And when we do that, when we step out of our daily this-or-that, when we unclench our engagement with what’s wrong or what doesn’t feel good or what hurts or what’s bothersome, we elevate our experience. And what can be faulty with that?

We’re only here for an instant. We can believe it’s to struggle and fight, or we can believe it’s to learn and uplift. We can admire and expand, or we can shut down. We can stay small or we can let our spirits breathe large. We can be held captive by the world’s ills, or we can spread more light.

Beauty, and beautiful things, are a physical gift for our human experience. Seek beauty. Surround yourself. And let purple doors and other beautiful things do what they’re meant to do; nurture and inspire.

garden.gate

purple door

How’s your Outrageous Happiness going?

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PS: I haven’t been able to find the original source for these 2 photos. They are not my own, and I would love to give proper credit if anyone knows.

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Some Love & Literary Candy

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Two Tulips / © Patricia Saxton

 

Ah, Cupid, Roman God of Love ~ fickle, passionate, whose darting arrows don’t always hit the target ~ every year on February 14th we celebrate you nonetheless. And we celebrate love: the language of poets, songs of the heart, threads that bind us throughout time, the essence of life itself.

While I can count a few especially thoughtful, and even romantic, Valentine’s Day experiences, yea, well, those went all wrong in the end (beware the man who writes you poetry, a friend once told me…), so instead I turn to the unscathed memories of shared Valentines from grammar school, or the hand-made kindergarten cards we gave to our parents, with big red construction paper hearts and white lace around the edges, filled with unabashed adoration. And those we give our own children, marked with a thousand x’s and o’s.

And yet, despite what might seem a dose of romantic cynicism, I am a true believer. In love. Love is everything. Every task we do, everyone word we utter, every hand we shake, is made better if there’s love in it. Love is the root. Love is the cause. Love is the purpose. Love is all.

So I welcome any reason to honor love. Let sweethearts swoon. Let the day be thick with roses and chocolates for all who’ve ever felt the exultation ~ or the sting ~ from Cupids’ arrows, all who’ve felt their heart swell, their color blush, their energy soar and their selfishness cease.

And with or without a “Valentine”, fill your hearts with love. Love for self, love for others, love for your pets, for your garden, for your books, for your bicycle, for your favorite chair. Even for the guy trying to make a left turn on a busy street. Raise up the heart quotient all around, and feel the peace that settles in when tension is replaced by unbridled love.

Celebrate love. Read some poetic literary candy. Smell a rose. Give someone a cupcake. Smile because love still exists in this mad world.

Love is Not All (Sonnet XXX), Edna St. Vincent Millay

Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
And rise and sink and rise and sink again;
Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath,
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It well may be that in a difficult hour,
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release,
Or nagged by want past resolution’s power,
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It well may be. I do not think I would.

 

18th Sonnet, William Shakespeare

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

 

How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43), Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

 

Love’s Philosophy, Percy Bysshe Shelley

The fountains mingle with the river,
And the rivers with the ocean;
The winds of heaven mix forever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In another’s being mingle–
Why not I with thine?

See, the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister flower could be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea;–
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?

Week #24, 52 Weeks of Peace

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Outrageous Happiness #15: Just Because

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Sweeten up! Nothing elevates your day like doing a kindness for someone else. It just feels good to let that person go in front of you at the grocery checkout. It just feels good to pay the toll for the car behind you. It plain and simply feels good to open doors, hold an umbrella, bake a cake, put a surprise gift on someone’s door, tell someone how much they mean to you, tell someone they look nice, they did a great job, they matter.

Doesn’t have to a Big Deal. Doesn’t have to drain your bank account. Doesn’t have to take much time. A little generosity of the heart is sometimes all it takes. (If you can do more, bless you!)  Just be kind. Do a kindness. Unexpected. No hidden agendas. Not for gain. Not for praise. Not for anything but kindness itself. Because “just because” is a terrific two-way happiness breeder.

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How’s your Outrageous Happiness going?

 

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