Sitting at his feet,
Surrounded by a sea of Yellow and Wine colored robes,
I ponder the gift.
I’ve been welcomed
Into the company of the Sangha,
I sit as one of them.
His Holiness the Dalai Lama,
Sits a few feet away from me.
He chants the holy words,
The sounds resonate,
Weaving in and out, and rising to the heavens,
The words encircle us, surround us,
And penetrate our hearts.
There is stillness within,
Sitting in his presence,
There is stillness.
He chants, fulfilling his priestly obligations,
Leading the faithful inward and onward,
An act of supreme humility.
Before the greatness of the silent I Am,
Before the immensity of a bottomless ocean,
Void of any form or substance,
He chants in rhythm with the energy that sustains the cosmos.
There I sit crossed legged,
A Christian Western Latino Cleric,
Surrounded by a multitude of Asian faces from Tibet and Vietnam,
Monks and Nuns at the feet of their most holy and revered teacher,
And I ponder the question why?
How did I arrive at this place and moment in time?
Why was I included in this ocean of sun colored robes?
It was timelessness that brought me there,
It was Tao,
It was Jesus,
It was my dear friend Thich Chon Thanh,
It was Karma,
It was Buddha,