[Buddha-l] HHDL in San francisco soup kitchen

[jkirk]

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

=====================
Curt--thanks for this charming and moving story.
JK