The Dalai Lama's Cat and the Power of Meow (26 page)

It must have been quite late when I felt Zahra's cheek on my head. “I'm sorry, Rinpoche, I forgot to bring you down.”

She collected me in her arms and walked to the garden window. Looking down, I saw strings of party lights in every color crisscrossed above the lawns, women in saris and jewels, men in dark jackets, waiters circulating trays of canapés.

The aroma of something deliciously fishy came wafting up the stairwell. Now fully awake, I was only too glad that Zahra had come to take me below.

“Something to eat?” she proposed.

My thoughts exactly!

The party was in full swing. She carried me across a sitting room thronged with guests and filled with tantalizing aromas and bouquets of flowers. The kitchen was generously proportioned, and she set me down on a wooden bench in the breakfast nook. Kusali soon arranged a ramekin of grilled fish for my delectation.

Zahra moved away as I ate; I was glad to be left to my own devices. After dinner I hopped down from the bench and ambled to the back door. I found my way around to the front of the house. I skirted the driveway to make my exit; I didn't need to stay for any more of the party. What I had experienced in the tower room, and what His Holiness had said there, was enough. That light would glow within for a very long time to come.

As I padded the short distance back to Namgyal, I passed my garden and decided to attend to the call of nature before going home. The garden was empty and lit only by the silver of the moon. Finding a bed with loose soil, I completed my toilette. I was heading back to the steps when I heard a creak. I turned to see that the shed door had been left open and was moving in the wind.

I remembered the last time I'd ventured in there. I hadn't been in for more than a minute before the driver's appearance had sent me into a jam between two sacks. There was still so much in there to explore . . .

I stalked across the lawn and stepped into the shed, pausing inside to parse the vividly contrasting odors of mulch and pesticide, humus and fertilizer. The driver seemed to have left in a hurry—a shovel was lying on the floor next to discarded pruning shears and gardening gloves. I was sniffing these when I heard another creak. But this time it was much louder and longer, and it was followed by a deafening crash. The shed's interior was thrown into total darkness.

I realized what had happened and meowed reflexively. Alone in the cold and the dark, the chemical odors seemed to intensify. Was this where I was going to have to spend the night? With no means of forcing the door or of other escape, would I be trapped here until the next time the driver visited—whenever that was? After those moments of wonder at the top of the tower, was I fated to die of chemical poisoning?

Meowing repeatedly, desperately, I felt utterly helpless. How on earth was I going to get out of this fix? I padded up and down inside the small shed, hoping to find some means of escape. I was looking for a gap, even a hiding place away from the toxic fumes.

Suddenly there was another creak. I looked over to see the door being pulled forcefully open.

I felt two large, strong hands tug me upward. There was something powerful, even primal about the sensation of being lifted to safety. As soon as I felt it, I knew I had been lifted exactly like this before. Those same hands. This same human. The large man in the escape party who had rescued me from certain death when I had been bound to Norbu during our flight from Tibet.

As he took me outside, I looked up toward his face. But I had already sensed who he was.

The driver.

Later that night, His Holiness sat at his desk studying the Great Fifth's
terma
. I was perfectly content to sit on the sill and look over the tranquil courtyard and reflect on the ever-multiplying and startling revelations I had begun to experience of late.

As the final evening meditation in the temple came to an end and the Namgyal monks were leaving the temple to go home to bed, the Dalai Lama got up from his desk and came over to sit beside me on the sill. Together we watched the nightly ritual of the temple lights being turned off progressively so that first the gold roof and auspicious symbols fell into darkness. Then the steps. Last, the lotus blossom.

There was no need for His Holiness to remind me of the meaning of the lotus, or of how suffering could become a catalyst for transcendence. I had already begun to discover that for myself. What I was only just beginning to understand, though, was the treasure, the terma of the mind. How the connections between myself and those I was closest to formed a tapestry far richer and more elaborate than anything I could ever have imagined.

“Studying this terma is very inspiring, my little Snow Lion,” the Dalai Lama murmured beside me. “Sometimes we need to be reminded what we're capable of. How we all have abilities beyond anything we may perhaps believe. Mind training may be difficult. But sometimes . . .” He stroked my face. “Sometimes we catch a glimpse of a purpose much greater than ourselves. Then it all becomes worthwhile.”

I turned to nuzzle my face into his hand. Already I had caught such glimpses, I thought. And all because of his inspiration, for which I would always be profoundly grateful.

Best of all, I knew this was a journey that would only get better.

HHC'
S
M
EDITATION
I
NSTRUCTIONS

Find yourself a quiet corner where you can sit undisturbed. The kind of place that a cat would feel comfortable and secure, such as in a patch of sunlight on your bedroom floor. Make sure your phone is set to silent mode. Select a gentle alert tone and set it for ten minutes. You don't have to assume a full lotus, cross-legged position. If you like, grab a couple of cushions off the sofa, put them on the floor, and take your seat. If it's more comfortable for you to sit in a chair, you can do so, so long as it has a straight back.

Keep your back straight but relaxed, and rest your hands in your lap, right palm on your left like a pair of shells. Join the thumb tips together to close the circuit of energy. Keep your shoulders comfortably rolled back. Close your eyes and let the muscles in your face relax. Place the tip of your tongue against the roof of your mouth just behind your front teeth. Tilt your head slightly down if your mind is very active, or keep it more upright if you're feeling tired.

Give yourself permission, here and now, not to think about any of your usual concerns. From this moment on, let anything you may have been thinking about become completely irrelevant while you are meditating. Consider this time off from your usual mental activity. Let it be time to restore, rebalance, and recharge. Try to be pure consciousness—without a past, without a future. Just abide in the here and now.

Be aware that you have now become a “cat magnet.” If you share your life with a feline friend, he or she will almost certainly make an appearance in the next few minutes.

Set the intention for your meditation by reciting the following affirmation, either aloud or silently:

By the practice of this meditation

I am becoming calm and relaxed,

Happier and more efficient in all that I do,

Both for my own sake, as well as for others.

Direct your attention to your nostrils. Focus on the sensation of your breath as you inhale and exhale. Feel your breath as you breathe in . . . and breathe out. On your next exhalation, in your mind, say the number one. On subsequent exhalations count two, three, and four. Count your breaths in cycles of four, keeping your attention focused on the sensation the breath makes as it moves through your nostrils.