Prolifically Raw: Why Cry?

Friday, September 08, 2006

Why Cry?

�I am going to see the most important man on the planet,� I said.

Jo Jo asked, �so, what�s his name?�

�He�s called the Dalai Lama,� I said.

�Is that Rinpoche?� she asked.

�No, that�s my teacher,� I said. �This man is the Dalai Lama.�

Jo, dazzling in her pink tutu and sparkling leotard, thought about this for a while. We were pulling up to the post office, about to mail a package.

I usually save these kinds of announcements for the last minute, since separation is hard for Jo (and me). She cries big alligator tears and there�s all this hugging and kissing and heart break, but not this time. I could handle her tears. It was more important that she know where I was going, not from some, �I�m doing something you�re not,� but from, �I am doing something that is for you and me and everyone. I am going to see His Holiness, The Dalai Lama.�

She didn�t cry though, she just asked again: �what�s his name again?�

~

A letter came from a friend traveling in Tibet. �Here women are considered to be shit,� she writes, �they aren't allowed to go to the teachings.� In the same letter, she writes, �the wise ones say something like, if you can't realize enlightenment where you are now, you will never realize it.�

~

In Vancouver, B.C, the Orpheum Theatre, Tenzin Gyatso walks on stage, maroon robes over his shoulder, red socks on his feet and he bows to the crowd.

From row 29, seat 15, my pearl of a friend, Puanani, at my right hand side, I am up clapping and crying. I�ve not had a cup of coffee with the man, I cannot whip his name out for my daughter without research and I really know nothing of him from direct experience�but I am brought to tears.

Why is that, anyway?

Is it how he evokes admiration and inspiration? Is it how he is a projection of my best inner self or a reflection of illumination? It is simply blind faith based on what others say or blinder hope within my heart?

Maybe it�s not about His Holiness at all.

Maybe I am cry because my friend is in a place where she is treated like she is less than �shit� and still has the ability to look inside and find a way to make this reality into a teaching.

Maybe its because I am the mother of a girl who will grow up in a world where she will soon learn that women are considered to be �shit,� abroad and even in her own country.

Maybe its because I�m so lucky to be here, free and able to see this great man, when so many women (and humans for that matter) can�t or won�t.

Maybe its because this great man will rise more awakening within me, making it that much more impossible to do anything less than my very best as I continue to traverse my own path to enlightenment.

I don�t know but I dig out my a napkin, blow my nose and pick up my pen, ready to write down what the most important man on the planet has to say.