[Buddha-l] HHDL in San francisco soup kitchen

[Curt Steinmetz]

jkirk wrote:
> http://www.time.com/time/picturesoftheweek/
>  
> Sweet!
>  
>   

Here is a blog entry from that day by a long-time volunteer at the 
kitchen (she is T. Thorn Coyle, a well-known Wiccan author):

http://yezida.livejournal.com/189021.html

April 26, 2009: Clasping His Holiness' Hands

Yesterday he spoke to 7,000 people. Today I shook his hand.

I've worked in a local soup kitchen on and off for around fifteen years, 
four of those, full time. It is a beautiful place, with a peaceful 
garden and jam packed, multi-faith altar. The food is good and the place 
is a refuge for many, guest and worker alike.

This morning, Martin's (http://www.martindeporres.org/) became a refuge 
for the Dalai Lama.

The kitchen prepared for weeks. I stepped in to help just a few days 
ago, in a serendipitous gap in my travel schedule, and this morning, a 
miracle of timing was orchestrated. While volunteers ushered out the 
guests from the morning meal, others of us moved in to rearrange the 
courtyard with enough tables to fit the 150 or so guests that would be 
able to dine with His Holiness. I scrubbed the bathrooms, then washed my 
hands thoroughly in time to corral the waiters who would take plates of 
food to the tables. We didn't really have time to meet, as word came 
that His Holiness had arrived early.

When he walked in, all were silent. All bowed. Black-suited entourage 
moving forward, I tried to back out of the way. Of course, this meant he 
walked right up to me and shook my hand. We looked into each other's 
eyes, each hand clasped between the other's and I said "Good morning," 
expecting that he would perhaps make some small talk as he had with the 
man he'd just greeted. But no. We just stared and smiled, some 
recognition passing between us: me in my black tee shirt and teal apron 
and he in his burgundy and saffron robes. There was a dot of water 
beneath his right eye. He moved on to greet others and see the garden. 
Something in me responded to his presence and I felt tears come to my eyes.

He spoke to us about the fact that each of us depends upon the other, 
and that there is no need to feel badly for that, that dignity and the 
human spirit is in each of us, and we need to remember this. He spoke of 
his mother, who would feed anyone in need who came to the house. He said 
that everyone can be our parent, our brother, our sister... He spoke of 
how important it is to have the chance to serve, and how he never has 
the chance to serve with his own hands. Martin's gave him that chance. 
He was gifted with an apron, died to match his robes, and he served up 
pasta, salad and bread for the waiting tables. When I approached to get 
a plate for the table I was serving, he looked into my eyes again, and 
gave a deep, hearty laugh. I beamed at him. At the tables, the plates 
were passed from hand to hand, so everyone present had a chance to serve 
another.

The table he sat at - filled with homeless men, to whom he remarked that 
he is also homeless - roared with laughter at quips he made. Not only 
does he radiate Being, the Dalai Lama has a great laugh.

He spoke again after the meal, touching on many subjects, and saying 
that all religions are important in what they offer, that each of us 
must find the religion that is true for us, but that in the human 
community, all are needed. He told us that Christian friends of his say 
he is a good Christian... except for Desmond Tutu who says he is the 
Mischievous Dalai Lama. And whether he will come back a fifteenth time? 
It is a mystery. He did, however, want to come back to Martin's. I do 
not blame him.

He told us not to worry too much, to be happy, and that any place can be 
our home.

Then the swirl began. His hour was up and it was on to the next place. 
The Secret Service moved into place, entourage swimming around the Dalai 
Lama. I was trying to help keep people away from the doors where he 
would exit. Once again, I was also trying to stay out of the way of the 
dark suited men and women with their ear pieces and solid stances. Once 
again, before he turned toward the door that would take him into the 
main dining room, through the kitchen, and out back to the waiting car, 
he turned, held out an arm, and shook my hand.

I felt the blessing in the whole space as I bent to scrub giant salad 
bowls, pots, and huge casserole dishes. People were walking around, feet 
on the ground, but astral bodies floating one foot above their heads as 
they tried to set the kitchen back to rights. My own head ached a little 
from the intensity of the psychic opening. Friends from the soup kitchen 
- guests and volunteers alike - repaired across the street for coffee 
and to talk over the events. I had a hot chocolate, which is rare for me 
to want, because my spirit needed something sweet to bring me fully back 
inside myself.

The blessing was Martin's itself, as usual, where there is a saying oft 
repeated, "Well, it's just another miracle at Martin's." Today was that, 
for all who came and were fed and, I got the impression, especially for 
His Holiness himself.

Those who need love, may they find love. Those who need refuge, may they 
find refuge. Those who need peace, may they find peace. Those who need a 
home, may they look within their hearts and open wide. May we all become 
homes for each other.

Blessed be.

[the soup kitchen has a website, too: http://www.martindeporres.org/ ]

Curt