The Art of Purring (The Dalai Lama's Cat 2)

As they laughed, he met Serena’s eyes with a twinkle. “For example.”

“For example,” she repeated.

“I suppose that’s why it’s so difficult”—his expression suddenly became serious—“to change direction once you have set yourself on a particular course.” The aura of tranquility that usually emanated from Lobsang had been replaced by uncertainty.

Mrs. Trinci gave Serena a meaningful glance. The two of them had evidently discussed whatever Lobsang was referring to. Unable to bear the change that had come over him, Mrs. Trinci got off her seat, walked over to him, and with a clash of bracelets, put her arms around him.

“Of course, this is a difficult time for you, my dear Lobsang,” she said. “But you must know that whatever decision you come to, you will have my full support!”

Only a short while later, there was a polite knock on the kitchen door, then Lama Tsering stepped inside. Tall, thin, and with the most ascetic of faces, Lama Tsering was the disciplinarian of Namgyal Monastery—the one responsible for overseeing the behavior of the monks at temple services and as they were engaged in other practices. As soon as he appeared, Lobsang got off his stool, put down his mug, and brought his palms together at his heart.

Lama Tsering bowed deeply. “Good morning to you.”

“Good morning, Lama.” Mrs. Trinci seemed flustered by his presence.

“Tenzin told me you were here today,” he said, meeting her eyes with an earnest expression. “I have come to ask, most sincerely, for your advice.”

“My advice?” Mrs. Trinci squeaked, smiling nervously.

“On matters of nutrition,” he continued.

“Mama Mia! I thought I had done something wrong!”

Lama Tsering tilted his head and with the tiniest hint of humor about his mouth said, “Why would you think that?”

Mrs. Trinci shook her head vigorously before passing him the tray of coconut slice. “Have a piece,” she offered. “Cup of tea?”

Lama Tsering studied the tray with interest. “It looks very nice,” he observed. “But first I need to know something.” Retrieving a small notebook from the pocket of his robe, he flicked it open to a page on which he had taken notes. “Is this”—he consulted his writing—“low Glycemic Index? Low GI?”

“Pretty low,” she assured him.

“Mum!” Serena rebuked her as Lama Tsering helped himself to a piece.

Mrs. Trinci shrugged. “Everything’s relative.”

Lama Tsering took an appreciative bite before observing, “Perhaps moderately low, then?”

“To extremely high,” suggested Serena, before all of them, even Lama Tsering, burst out laughing.

“Why the interest in GI?” Mrs. Trinci asked the lama after a moment.

“As disciplinarian at the monastery,” he replied, “it is my duty to ensure that all the monks are practicing well, are exercising self-control, and, above all, are content.” He patted his heart. “But I have only recently discovered how important nutrition is to this.”

“A balanced diet,” offered Serena.

“Glucose, in particular,” Lama Tsering said with such authority that it was evident he had done his homework—just as it was evident to Lama Tsering that we had never given one moment’s thought to the subject.

“Our monks need two things to enjoy fulfillment and success: intelligence and self-control. Of these two, there is no known method to increase intelligence. But self-control—willpower—this is something different. Even in the West, scientists are discovering the importance of emotional intelligence.”

Lobsang nodded. He was very well acquainted with the work of Daniel Goleman, who had spent much time with His Holiness and whose books on emotional intelligence and social intelligence were known worldwide.

“The marshmallow experiment at Stanford University,” Lobsang said.

“A highly effective predictor of success,” confirmed Lama Tsering. Then glancing at the looks of puzzlement on the faces of Mrs. Trinci and Serena, he went on. “In the 1960s, young children were shown into a room, one at a time, and researchers made a deal with them. Each child was given a marshmallow and told that they could eat it right away if they liked, but if they waited for the researchers to return after stepping out for a bit, they could have an additional marshmallow. The researchers left the room for fifteen minutes. Some children ate the sweet immediately. Others were able to restrain themselves and ended up with two marshmallows.

“Those children who had more self-control when they were young went on to achieve higher grades, have fewer problems with drink or drugs, and earn more money. Scientists are showing that self-control is a better indicator of future success than even intelligence.”

“Oh dear,” murmured Mrs. Trinci. “I would have eaten the marshmallow straight away!”