One Saturday I heard the Dalai Lama would be speaking in Central Park the following day. The next morning I took the PATH and subway up to Central Park to check it out. This is why I like living in Jersey City. I have the ability to see the Dalai Lama on a whim. I'm next door to the center of the universe.
I've tried meditation a couple times, and it always ends up with me sitting there feeling stupid. I'm supposed to be contemplating one hand clapping or Ohm, my mind wanders off, and then I'm in the world of imagination. I'll still be sitting in whatever contortionist position I think meditation happens in, but I'll be humming a They Might Be Giants song and thinking about how my life would change if I could fly.
Despite this, I do a lot of Buddhist teachings in normal life. Most major religions have a lot to do with being a good human being, something that I was aiming to be anyway. Holding the door open and saying thank you are approved by priests and monks and rabbis and imams and voodoo shamans around the world.
Buddhist is about the only religion where you can look into it without renouncing all your prior religious beliefs. You can pick what you like about it, like from a cafeteria. (You can do it with other religions, too, but it doesn't bug Buddhists as much when you do it to them.) I'm not partial to reincarnation, but I'll take a full plate of minimizing suffering in life, with a side of striving for world peace. I still have the sometimes lousy cook of Catholicism at home, but at least I can eat out once in a while.
The East Lawn in Central Park was packed with tens of thousands of people. All ages, all races. There were a good number of Tibetans, some in native clothing and some in their American disguises. There might have even been a Republican.
If you owned any sort of loose flowing garment, you wore it here. A lot of people were in street clothes, but even they had an ethereal quality to them. There were more sandals here than all the beaches of the world. I was aware of what I was wearing: a dark green Radiothon t-shirt with the lettering half faded, and grubby sneakers. It didn't quite fit the mood of this place, but my Tibetan robes were being dry cleaned.
This was a literate crowd, and most people were carrying some sort of book for the subway. The book I was currently reading didn't fit this mold. It was a Clive Cussler book called Treasure, about a guy who recovers shipwrecks and manages to run across eight James Bond Villains every book. The characters are horrible, but the archeology is researched, and there some ridiculous display of violence every ten pages. I doubt the Dalai Lama's read it.
And on top of that I had a They Might Be Giants song in my head. I don't know what half the TMBG songs are about, so it very well might have been a Buddhist chant. With an accordion solo.
Richard Gere addressed the crowd first, getting a huge cheer with nary a snicker. Here's my meditation problem again. Am I disciplined enough to think about Buddhism, or do I think about ... you know. He only spoke for a minute, so I didn't have time think about either one, but how much of the crowd was thinking about Buddhism right now and how much was thinking about ... you know.
The Dalai Lama walked on stage in his robes with a big smile on his face, which never left. He looked over the crowd for a minute, smiling, then sat down and talked extemporaneously, mostly in English. A translator helped him with phrases he couldn't instantly convert to English.
The Dalai Lama didn't bring up religion. He made mentions of it, but he wasn't trying to sell anyone on Buddhism. He wanted us to live happy lives, and he offered some advice to do so. That's all. It was refreshing to have a religious figure speak without dropping in "By the way, you're going to Hell if you don't abandon your beliefs and follow all of mine."
The goal of life, it seems to the Dalai Lama, is to be happy. Nothing wrong with this. We can be happy through physical means, which we do same as animals. But we can also find mental happiness, through doing good things, easing suffering, and meditation. (Well, maybe not meditation for all of us.)
Animals have fear and hatred, just as we do. Poke a bear with a stick and you'll learn that real quick. Our difference is we can put our brains behind our fear and hatred. That's how war and terrorism gets made. Animals don't have the smarts for either. But we all realize war and terrorism is harmful, and our brains, if properly applied, can also end them.
The cynical response to most great philosophical thoughts is "Well, duh." Most Buddhist teachings land here. Most of them actually sound like sitcom morals. Oh, money doesn't lead to happiness? There's more to life than sex? And friendship is important? Yeah, I saw those Blossom episodes.
A few helicopters buzzed over our heads, and the occasional jet took off from LaGuardia and hooked left over our heads. A team of skywriters tried twice to write something in a circle several miles in diameter, but by the time they finished the phone number, the area code had been dispersed by the wind up there.
The whole time I was listening, They Might Be Giants were in my head. I wasn't expecting the Four Noble Truths to clear it like the skywriting, but it would have been nice.
The Dalai Lama spoke for an hour or so, then said his goodbyes. The crowd slowly filed out of the East Lawn. They didn't sound like they were ready to nonviolently better the world.
"God, I'm starving."
"Man, my butt is killing me."
"You know what my definition of pompous is? Richard Gere."
Nice to know I'm not the only person who reincarnated out of a termite colony.
I wasn't expecting seeing the Dalai Lama would revolutionize my life, and it didn't. He doesn't awe an audience, because he doesn't intend to. He's a guy who has it all figured out, and he's happy to share how. That's all. If finding inner peace could be done in an hour, we'd have world peace within the week.
Once I left Central Park, New York decided to turn its volume back up. Cars and trucks held down their horns at every intersection, people screamed into cell phones, ambulances were ignored by half the cars at intersections, piles of garbage the length of limos dared you to breathe around them, and a full block was cordoned off by the police for some reason. This was what we had to change. This'll take a while.
I was still enjoying the They Might Be Giants song. My book was about to have a car chase on a ski slope. I had a big pot of spaghetti to make at home. I had a smile on my face, and I was happy.
And when I die, I will have total consciousness. So I got that going for me.