Victor Chan, co-author of "The Wisdom of Forgiveness" with the Dalai Lama, had the precious opportunity to spend some time alone with the Dalai Lama. Below is a letter he wrote to his children and recounted what he learned on that special morning.
Dear Lina and Kira,
Now that you're 16 and 19 years old, you're starting to plan your own life. The past time has been a seemingly endless series of days, we are just engrossed in sitting there and chatting all day. I regret the time we waste wandering around the beach and the long outings during our family's camping trip to Westphalia while you just obediently do what I tell you.
One story I want to share with you is about the morning I had the opportunity to live with the Dalai Lama. This is a profoundly meaningful experience of my father's life. The few hours he spent with him gave me a clear understanding of how he used his own time behind his glory. He hardly said much to me that morning, but what he did spoke for him so much and was relevant to all of us.
Therefore, I have decided to write this letter to share with you.
At that time, while he was writing the manuscript for The Wisdom of Forgiveness, a book he co-wrote with the Dalai Lama, he invited me to join him for a morning at his retreat in Dharamsala, India. I have traveled with him to four continents and conducted many interviews with him, but I have never had the opportunity to enter his own sanctuary. Just once, I don't mind waking up in the middle of the night, to me, so to speak, at midnight, my children.
At 3:45 a.m., he was sitting on a small mat placed on the floor of his residence in the Dalai Lama's meditation room. The space here is quiet and magical, elegant and gentle. In the room, there is a table, a corner for meditation and a small area for sitting and eating. There were many shelves displaying bronze magic instruments of all sizes, large and small, and many bookshelves with sutras written in Tibetan script. Thick curtains covered the windows that stretched from the ceiling to the floor, and in the dim light before dawn, I could see a glimpse of the Himalayas.
At a time when only the ownerless dogs on the street woke up, the Dalai Lama began his day by prostrating. From his standing position, he stretched himself to the floor, with only a thin cushion spread out on the board enough for his torso. His hands were straight up from his head, his palms resting on the square cloth, forming an angle with his fingers pointing straight at the ceiling.
Then, with a skillful movement, he slid his hands down to his thighs to gain momentum, folded himself to a kneeling position on his heels, and stood up straight. He placed his palms on the top of his head, gently lowered them to his chest and slid back down on the floor. Then he continued the same process several times.
I forgot to count for a moment, but I estimate that he prostrated in this way at least 30 times. His Holiness the Dalai Lama has made such prostrations almost every day for the rest of his life, and if anyone were to count the number of times he prostrated him, I am sure, it must have been more than a thousand times over the course of more than seventy years.
After prostration, he went to the walker (exercise machine) placed in the corner of the window. He hung the string of Buddha chanting on a bar next to the shawl and began to walk quickly on the slider of the moving exercise machine. Almost immediately, he closed his eyes to the music coming from the machine and so on, he practiced meditation while exercising. The music for meditation has a faster tempo.
After taking a bath, the Dalai Lama took me around the outside of his sanctuary. The surrounding mountains were still engulfed in darkness, almost untouched by the sun. Thin smoke curls rising from hidden chimneys somewhere slowly spread in the cold mist. Far below the Kangra Valley, sporadic rays of light from Indian cities can be seen from afar. It was too early, and the birds had not yet called their flock.
His Holiness the Dalai Lama starts from afar, immersing himself in the quiet space, so that all his chambers blend into the magical purity of his surroundings. He is at peace in the present, unwavering in the slightest with his father's presence by his side. As I watched him, I stood there in silence, one hand lightly touching the blue-painted metal barrier, the indescribable elegance that touched my heart.
It was cold, so he and his father did not stay long outside the sanctuary. As soon as he returned to his room, he immediately sat down to meditate. He sat on a chair spread out behind the table, and there was a circular mahogany panel behind him. He removed the glasses from his eyes, his serene aura, the embodiment of the fullest of life, fully expressed in him. There were dark circles under his eyelids and wrinkles that ran from his cheeks to his chin. His face was calm, solemn, and full of wisdom.
When the Dalai Lama meditates, he always shakes his body, rhythmically like a machine. His eyes were partially closed, but I could see that his pupils moved slightly in the eye socket from time to time. There were times when my pupils were raised, and I could see the whites in His eyes. His hands were on his thighs, and his fingers tapped in a rhythmic manner. He felt uncomfortable, feeling like his presence had invaded this very private space.
One thing is for sure, His Holiness the Dalai Lama enters a deep and very special state. Later, he shared with his father that, when he meditated, his mind was not completely still, in the words of the Zen masters. Dynamically, his mind directs his desires, plans what he will do during the day, filled with ideas on how to make compassion grow more deeply. He wished to extend compassion to people and to help them alleviate their suffering in any way he could. Rational analysis at this time helps him to cultivate the wisdom to see that, by extending his compassion to others, he himself still has the benefit of becoming calm.
After 4 hours, it was time for my father to say goodbye to him. He took me by the hand and led me to a certain room. From here, he took out a small gray stone engraved with an Indian monastery adorned by a tower at the top of a two-story platform. Four small towers are located in four directions. He said, "The stupa in Bodh Ashram is here, dedicated to you."
He took his father to the door when an idea seemed to flash through his mind. He directed me to a box full of beautiful objects. He excitedly exclaimed, "Ah, here!" He carefully took it out and handed it to his father a piece of mahogany carved with an old man with a beard that reached his waist. It is a symbol of perfection in a Chinese saint.
At that moment, Paljior la, the Dalai Lama's attendant, gently entered the room. He presented the Dalai Lama with a small red envelope for him to give to his father. "A red envelope for you, according to Chinese custom. Goodbye to you." He spoke in sincerity and warmth. Inside the red envelope was a stack of US dollar bills. A feeling of embarrassment spread all over his father's face. I felt ashamed. It was so surprising that the Dalai Lama gave me gifts, including precious objects with their special backgrounds. And knowing that my father was quite tight, he even gave me money.
When I walked out of the meditation room, at that very moment, I met the Dalai Lama's extremely joyful gaze. His face was radiant. It seems that when he gave his father these gifts, he was very pleased. This is reflected in his radiant face. Some of the wrinkles along his cheeks seemed to stretch, his forehead seemed to be less wrinkled, and the blisters under his eyelids seemed to be less dark circles. All exuded peace and peace in him.
Lina and Kira, from your personal experience, know more or less about the benefits of giving. Our family used to live in India for a year when Lina was 7 and Kira was 9. You may remember how difficult it was for us to suffer in the first few weeks. They have suffered from huge cultural differences when confronted with poverty and besieged misery. You feel terrible. Then you get to know the street students in Dharamsala and are happy to take care of you.
I remember very well that they crawled through the dirty ditches to bring food and water to the little animals. Then, when they start dying from the spread of the virus that causes disease, they get involved in calling on everyone to join hands to buy preventive medicine to save them. The act of caring for and putting the interests of others above one's own has aroused and made the children's spirits greatly uplifted.
As the venerable Shantideva, a nineteenth-century Indian saint whose doctrine was profoundly influenced by the Dalai Lama, once wrote, "All the joy that this world contains comes from the wish for the happiness of others." Just as the Dalai Lama used to say, "If you want others to be happy, practice loving-kindness. If you want yourself to be happy, practice loving-kindness."
After leaving the Dalai Lama's residence, he went to a café in the market in Dharamsala. Sitting sipping a strange cup of delicious milk coffee, Dad recalled what he had just experienced in the past few hours. I found his daily life very simple, even ordinary. He prostrated, walked on a walker, walked around the sanctuary, meditated and gave gifts to his father. There is nothing outside the orbit of normal life, it really is. As I speak to you, I can still feel the peace that radiates from you.
I have met him, a man who knows how to take care of himself, both physically and mentally. I know that your daily routine of every morning goes on like this, from year to year, in a gentle way. It takes place in a principled, persistent and autonomous way, waking up at 3:30, practicing spirituality for a few hours before starting the multi-faceted work in the office. The Dalai Lama has been practicing this steadily over the past few decades, even as he travels far from the time zone difference.
The Dalai Lama told me many times that he didn't like to exercise. However, with a scientific mind, constantly updating the latest advantages in the field of health, he understands that physical activity is important. He is clearly aware of time, relativity and does not waste it. His ability to complete his mission to help people as much as possible depends on whether his health allows it or not.
I also knew that he was not a good student as a child. He had a capricious and impulsive temperament. Monastic principles such as meditation and sutra study did not come naturally to him.
In a previous conversation, with a look of mischief in his eyes, the Dalai Lama told his father, "When I was about 7 or 8 years old, I wasn't eager to learn. Just love playing. But there is one thing: my mind at that time was very sharp, and I could learn easily. Because of that, subjectivity gives birth to laziness. Therefore, my teachers always kept the whip with me, the yellow whip. When I saw the yellow whip, the holy whip for the Dalai Lama's holy student, I studied. Because of fear, they learn. Even when I reach the age of knowledge, when I learn, there is no holy pain."
Although he was not very eager to learn as a child, the Dalai Lama devoted himself wholeheartedly to the practice every morning. With perseverance and self-control, he practiced sitting quietly for a long time. Gradually, he was able to better control his wrong instincts. Meditation and learning the Dharma became more important than playing; Not immediately responding to what you want to satisfy becomes a matter of course.
For a long time, psychologists focused on the cognitive aspect and considered it the most important predictor of success in life. Today, most agree that IQ depends largely on self-control. The smartest kids can't always rely on the abilities of their brains. Long-term success depends on the ability to self-regulate, reduce bad instincts, and enhance what's good in life.
Kira, I think you can relate to this. Throughout the day at school, I kept plunging my head into a bunch of homework, bowing until the last minute. This shows that children have good self-control, not immediately responding to instinctive gratifications. I think you feel that when you finish your responsibilities on time, you have completed your work. This takes the burden off your child's shoulders and leaves him free to do other things, which may bring more joy. I am glad that you can train yourself to have this useful habit, which is an important part of your life.
The Dalai Lama often speaks on the importance of self-control. He believes that self-control is essential in spiritual practice. It gives us the means to practice and cultivate the essential attributes that are decisive for life. It allows us to interrogate our behaviors and paves the way for better and better correction. It likens our untamed mind to an untrained rebellious elephant. If we can gradually tame our hearts, we will have the opportunity to cultivate loving-kindness, the foundation of pure happiness, more easily.
It is clear that for the Dalai Lama, meditation is very important. He spends a large part of the day meditating, and I have seen him recharge after the morning session. His Holiness the Dalai Lama's much-quoted quote recently is, "If every eight-year-old child is taught to meditate, we will end the violence in the world in just one generation."
More and more people are practicing meditation. But what I'm worried about is how many people can persist in practicing meditation in their lives, even though they have that goodwill. Sooner or later, the urgent tasks that need to be solved in everyday life will interfere with the daily practice of meditation for many people.
For the Dalai Lama, meditation is as natural as brushing your teeth. It is a habit in daily life. If you think about it, you must have spent more than 100,000 hours practicing meditation. And without a doubt, he is the happiest person I have ever known. His sense of humor, his ability to laugh and the joy of his life were miraculous. His Holiness showed me some simple ways to apply meditation in his daily work. Don't be too ambitious to do something big; Restrain your temper. When you first start practicing meditation, don't sit for too long, you should only sit for about 10 to 15 minutes at a time. The thing is that it needs to be practiced regularly, many times a day and maintained so that it becomes a regular habit in life.
Making meditation a rhythmic task as a daily routine is the secret for His Holiness the Dalai Lama to nurture the fountain of peace. And in recent years, science has also confirmed the close link between meditation and pure happiness.
The Dalai Lama told me, "But if you want to make progress, you need to persevere with time. Meditation is not like turning on a light bulb switch, but like lighting a fire: starting from a small spot of fire, it burns bigger and bigger, brighter, brighter and brighter. Meditation is like that."
These are some of the things I learned that morning. Let's practice. This is good for both the body and the mind. Meditation is also very good. There is nothing surprising here. I am not telling you anything new. Yet I was impressed by the understanding contained in the Dalai Lama's morning work. It's no big deal, but it's meaningful to witness such vivid experiences.
The first is self-control and all that it contains: not immediately responding to what you want to be satisfied with, living with principles, persevering and persevering. The second is habit. Forming a daily routine gently helps us to have perseverance and success in everything we want to do. The third is that we get satisfaction from giving, from helping others. All of these things are real, validating the ways we can use to make our lives more successful and beautiful.
The deepest understanding came quickly to me when I was outside the retreat with the Dalai Lama. Even now, it is still fleeting in my mind, though not as complete as it was then. I don't expect you two to be able to relate to it at the moment, but you should be mindful of this. It was when I was outside the retreat that day that I felt in a general way the dependency and importance of the relationship that depends on each other in this life. His Holiness the Dalai Lama has always lived with his mind in a reflective state, and he hardly speaks to me. But the brief moments in the cold mist before dawn that morning struck my mind unexpectedly.
I directly recognize his power and a very real connection with what surrounds him, a connection that sublimates ideas.
I would like to reiterate in an earlier interview with you. He told his father about many of the things he experienced when he was over 20 years old. Whatever he looked at – a table, a chair, or someone – he saw that it did not have an entity, that it did not exist. There is a "void in what exists," he told me.
Seeing that his father was confused and did not understand anything, he explained, "These moments are like pictures appearing, like watching television or watching a movie. Especially very similar to watching a movie. We have the feeling that what is happening is real, but at the same time, while our eyes see the scenes, our minds know that it is only a picture. It's just acting, not real."
This way of perceiving, this subtle perception of reality is the foundation of the Dalai Lama's spiritual life. He knew, intellectually as well as experientially, that all things were governed by the law of impermanence and that his existence depended on a complex web of other relationships. On this basis, personal boundaries are all dissolved. As a result, he felt an attachment to all things and people.
Lina and Kira, I closed by sharing what went through my mind that morning. I always remember the precious hours I spent with the Dalai Lama. He did not teach me any sublime doctrines, nor in the usual way. Most of the time, he had no idea of his father's presence. But you can say that I have learned important things – things that are not easy to express in words.
Love you two very much,
Your
father
Vitor Chan.
Source: http://www.shambhalasun.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=4093