V is for Visiting the Dalai Lama

Let me explain:
Vexed with vendors-- garden suppliers and curtain guys, 
I surrender 
my 'V' 
to an older post of mine. 
I hope you won't mind. 
It's a beautiful journey back in time.
And he is the Dalai Lama.
Come along for a visit.

I met him in May, last year.
But it feels like yesterday.

************************************************

Seven days later-
and I can still feel the way his hand felt when I touched it-
soft, soft, soft.

Seven days later-
and his dark eyes are still peeping into my soul-
clear, mystical, simple.

Seven days later-
and I can still see his soft drooping cheeks commanding his lips to utter,
'Come again.' to us.

'Come again' echoes deep inside me.
Why did he say that?
Come again to Whom? for What? Why?

The white scarves you see us all wearing in the photo
were bought in a rush
after we spotted other visitors carrying them.

A kind gentleman helped us to carefully fold the scarf into a neat concertina.

The lady security guard
at the metal detector,
however,
had other ideas.
With one swift movement of her experienced hands,
she unfurled my neatly folded scarf
and smiled warmly.

Even before we lined up to see His Holiness,
the lessons of life had begun.
Neatly laid plans
sometimes
unfurl
while we look on.

It's time to 
unfurl
to
receive
the light,
the love
and to let go
of
expectations.

Easy said than done.

Standing in line
waiting for my turn
soaking the red, pink and white geraniums planted in cans painted in green
following the butterflies dancing on delphiniums
noticing the bulging biceps of the good looking security personnel caressing his automatic weapon
feeling odd
witnessing this duality-
mean looking guns protecting His Holiness
a Nobel Peace Prize winner.

Standing in line
waiting for my turn
carrying my rucksack of expectations
wishing I'd worn a brighter colour or at least some lipstick
to look good in the photo
envying the pretty white dress worn by a Japanese visitor
and
the lady behind me dressed in Tibetan robes
feeling inadequate
in yoga pants and an old top.

Maybe it's time to unfurl myself
and let go of the ego
that fogs the light of my spirit.

The murmur of voices
and the rustle of bodies
announces his arrival.

I automatically stand on tiptoe to see.

Bodies bow.
Hands fold.
His voice rings out clearly.
I catch snippets of conversations
he has with the other visitors.

I am last in line.
It is time.
'Pick me, Pick me'.
my ego screams silently.
'Tell me I am special.'
'Hold my hand and make me stand out.'
'Tell me you can see how good my soul is.'
You see
I am last in line-
the furthest away from you.

'Can I touch your hand?'
I ask
as we are about to leave
after the
photos have been clicked.
He holds his hand out to me.
I touch.
Three fingers of mine hook into his soft palm.
Calm.
Peaceful.
Soft.
I've come home.

Seven days later-
he is still with me.

'Come again'
becomes
'Come home.'

Come home-
to unfurl
to let go
to open your heart
and wipe the foggy window pane clean-
for
light
travels
forward
and unfurls
the darkness
one
cloudy
puff
at
a
time.

 An Audience with His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama of Tibet

I promise you 

I had no clue

that

almost a year ago

I had talked about unfurling.

Either I'm a slow learner (highly likely)

or this unfurling business will take time.

***********

I have to thank a very important 'V' in my life: 

drum roll please...

Vistas

for making it possible.

And my dear facebook friend Sunila for suggesting that I share this experience during the 

A to Z Challenge.

I was determined to only post new stuff, but I've been out all day getting things sorted for the imminent house move, and the midnight deadline is looming, so I surrender, happily:)