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

As Bronnie shook her head, Sam cut in. “Three-month contract. Bronnie will be on her own for the first two months. I’ll join her for month three. Then we’ll both come back here.”

“Sounds like a good arrangement,” Serena said.

“This way we both get to see more of the Himalayas,” explained Bronnie. “Though I think Sam is more interested in checking out the Kopan Monastery bookstore.”

“Habit of a lifetime,” observed Serena.

“Once a geek …,” said Sam.

“Super-geek,” corrected Bronnie. Reaching over, she took his hand in hers.

Ludo appeared from the hallway and made his way to the front of the studio, leonine and supple as ever. Wearing a white cotton tunic and white yoga pants, he was more smartly dressed than usual but ready to lead what would turn out to be a very gentle yoga session, one intended to introduce newcomers to some of the basics of the practice.

It was while Ludo was explaining Tadasana, Mountain Pose, that Sid arrived, uncharacteristically late. He spotted Serena at the back and headed her way. Without being asked, Sam and Bronnie moved over so that he and Serena could sit together.

They were right in front of where I was sitting. I watched them move through a sequence of stretches, balancing on one leg with their arms toward the ceiling, followed by twists, first to the right, then the left. At one point, Serena turned the wrong way by mistake, so that she and Sid were facing each other. Instead of staring at a point in the distance, they met each other’s eyes and held the gaze for a minute of unexpected, unwavering intimacy.

Ludo took the class through a handful of seated postures. It was while they were all tucked in Balasana, Child’s Pose, that two security men appeared. They checked the room then nodded to Ludo, who told everyone to sit up.

Smiling, he said, “I know the real reason that many of you are here. And it is my great privilege and heartfelt pleasure to invite our honored guest, His Holiness, the Fourteenth Dalai Lama of Tibet, to rededicate our yoga studio.”

Gasps of happiness greeted the announcement. As His Holiness appeared in the hallway, out of respect everyone started to stand, but he waved them to stay as they were. “Please, sit,” he said, then brought his palms together at his heart and bowed, as he met the eyes of everyone in the room.

When the Dalai Lama walks to the front of a room full of people, he doesn’t walk past them but engages many of them on the way. This evening, as he headed toward Ludo he squeezed Ewing’s shoulder and chuckled as he looked into Merrilee’s eyes. When Sukie placed her hands together and bowed, he gently reached out and held her hands briefly in his. A tear rolled down her cheek.

By the time His Holiness reached Ludo, who was standing at the front, there was an awed hush in the room. Everyone felt the energy he exuded unceasingly and without effort. It was an energy that could move you beyond your usual limited sense of yourself to an awareness of your boundless nature and the reassuring knowledge that all is well. Pausing in front of the open doors, the Dalai Lama gave himself over to the spectacular view.

The natural elements had conspired to stage an especially transcendent sunset that evening. The deep lapis sky created a dramatic backdrop for glistening peaks that were painted with liquid gold. Immense and immutable as the Himalayas usually seemed, on this occasion they shimmered like an ethereal vision that might dissolve into emptiness at any moment.

As His Holiness stood taking in this vista, his wonderment was communicated to everyone in the studio. For a few timeless moments, we were held together, spellbound. Then he turned to Ludo with a smile.

Ludo bowed formally, offering the Dalai Lama a white scarf in the traditional way. When His Holiness returned the scarf, placing it around Ludo’s shoulders, he reached down and took Ludo’s hand in his. “My good friend,” he began, patting their joined hands. Then, looking out at us, he said, “Many years ago, when I first came to Dharamsala, I heard about this German man who wanted to teach yoga. This is good, I thought. The Germans are very persistent!”

There was much laughter.

“Mindfulness of the body is a foundation practice. It is most useful. If we want to cultivate mindfulness, yoga can be very helpful. This is why I always say to Ludo, ‘Teach more yoga. It will benefit all who come.’”

The Dalai Lama’s eyes twinkled behind his glasses as he surveyed the group. “The body is like a treasure chest. The treasure it houses is the mind. The opportunity we have to develop our mind is very, very precious. Most beings have no such opportunity. This is why we should take good care of our bodies and look after our health. Make the most of this lifetime to benefit the self and benefit others.”

His Holiness gestured to Ludo to speak. After welcoming the Dalai Lama to the Downward Dog School of Yoga, he explained that the studio was named not only for the yoga pose that was now known around the world but also for a dog he had looked after in his earliest days in McLeod Ganj. His Holiness wore a contemplative expression as he gazed at the picture of the Lhasa Apso hanging on the studio wall.

Ludo spoke of being encouraged by the Dalai Lama’s support from the start. Now, several decades later, he couldn’t imagine life without this special purpose, teaching yoga. The recent fire and the restoration of the balcony had presented an opportunity to begin a new chapter for the studio, he said.

Chanting a prayer in Tibetan, the Dalai Lama blessed the studio and every being in it. In that brief moment, the atmosphere in the room seemed to change. As the consciousness of His Holiness touched our own, each of us felt something sacred and profound.

Ludo handed His Holiness a pair of scissors and invited him to cut the ribbon to the new balcony. This he did, to much amusement and applause. Then Ludo said, “I have told His Holiness the story of the fire and how things could have been much worse if it hadn’t been for little Swami.”

Sitting in front of me, Sid called out, “She’s here tonight.”

“Is she?”

As Sid and Serena moved aside, all eyes were suddenly upon me. The Dalai Lama looked directly at me with heartfelt love. Then glancing again at the framed photograph of the Lhasa Apso, hanging on the wall he turned to Ludo and said, “I am so pleased she has found her way back to you.”

Later that night I lay resting on the yak blanket at the foot of His Holiness’s bed while he sat up reading. As I stared up at him, I thought about his comment to Ludo, the photograph on the wall of the yoga studio, and my dream. I also remembered Yogi Tarchin calling me Little Sister as soon as he’d seen me with Serena. And I thought about how comfortable and at home I felt with both Serena and Sid.

During these past seven weeks I had come to some life-changing realizations about happiness, but I had also uncovered something else—something as profound and heart-warming as it was completely unexpected. I had discovered the depth of my connection to the people I was closest to, a bond that went far beyond my imagining. I had shared whole lifetimes with them, even though the memory of this wasn’t always accessible to me.

The Dalai Lama looked down at me with a smile. Closing his book, he removed his glasses and placed them carefully on the bedside table, then leaned down to stroke my face.