Sunday, February 22, 2004

Emanance, Emenence

The main thing about the Shrine Auditorium is that it’s big.  Sure, it’s also a hallucinogeic apparation of moorish excess, a festival for the eyes, gold and crimson and azure sabres and crescents and stars everywhere you turn - but the main thing is, it’s huge.  It sits by itself in a typically sunbaked so-cal parking lagoon, rising like Mt. St. Michele from its brackish bed, an urban Ayer’s Rock, a surreal extrusion on a lifeless LA landscape… this, then, is the Shrine in situ. 

I last went there to see his Excellency the Dalai Lama give a talk in the late ‘80s.  The phrase “excellency” is sometimes bandied about with thoughtless abandon, but it was not until this encounter that I truly learned what it meant.  I was in a long line of ticketholders waiting to be let in on a hot summer evening.  It was a friendly and peaceful crowd in a good mood.  But even so, the on-line experience was draining and we were a bit bored and tired as we waited.  My part of the line had snaked all the way to the sidewalk and I could anticipate quite a wait before setting my kharmicaly-tuned bewtocks into my creaky old velour theater seat under that outlandish ceiling frieze.  So we stood there, tiny people in a long line dwarfed by the alabaster bulk of an impassive facade looming up from behind us.  I felt small and dull and very plain.  And I waited. 

The crowd behind me started buzzing.  Something was happening.  Heads turned to the street, where a black limo was approaching the gate to the lot.  Traffic slowed and we all gazed on the limo like it was an ice cream truck, perhaps about to dole out a little spiritual refreshment to us on that parched evening.

The back passenger window of the limo dropped and a beaming little face poked out of it.  The Dalai Lama, in orange and red robes and a smile from ear to ear, waved cheerfully at us.  He seemed to be bouncing on his seat, or maybe it was just the way he was bowing his head.  I couldn’t tell what it was, but he sure had something bouncy going on.  What’s more, I felt an actual emanence of joy and peace from him.  At this time I would have considered myself sympathetic, philosophically and certainly polticially, with him, but I didn’t consider him to be a particular personal icon.  I was there because I knew others who were going and I figured it would be cool.  Dude - the Shrine.  Plus, it was cheap.  But as I stood there in line and took in his magnanimous, all-encompassing smile from out the window of his limo, I understood what he was about a little bit better.  Excellence.  Eminence.  Grace. 

The limo drove on.  Behind it was a small white rental coupe, four doors but built for two.  In it rode about seven enrobed abbots or monks or physical trainers or whoever the Dalai Lama has in his retinue, trailing him at a respectful distance.  As they passed us in line, they too began waving, waving and nodding madly, all of them, rocking the overloaded little car with their saffron-gowned enthusiasm, and it was just like the clowns in the tiny car at the circus, and everybody laughed, including the abbots, or whoever they were. 

Once I got inside the Dalai Lama gave a good talk, as I recall, but the details have faded a good bit in the intervening lifetime.  But that drive-by he gave us - that stuck with me.  That guy really knows how to wave.

very cool, i love those moments when you can feel the joy radiating from someone.  i have a priest like that, who literally *beams* when he smiles, and emanates joy.  it always helps me understand what it means to be in the presence of someone holy.

it also makes me just a touch envious, but i am working on that by cultivating my own radiance.  :)

I really love this story! My comment isn’t about the Dalai Lama, but the Shrine, however.

Many years ago I was helping a friend set up for his wedding reception the night before. The event was being held in the local Shrine building in their ball room.

It was a pretty nondescript building, but later that night after many beers, we all decided to do a little exploring. We crept up a long flight of stone stairs in the back of the building and came upon two huge doors. We opened them to what I loosely refer to as a room. It was more like a cavernous venue carpeted in red, rotund with clergy-like seats all around with two thrones gilted in gold presiding in the middle of the hall. The ceilings were gilted, sculpted gold and everything was so, well, 16th Century Royalty-like. There was a huge sarcarphagus with a large book, probably the Shrine guide or whatever you call it, in front of the thrones. It kinda freaked me out. I felt like if I stayed I was going to be offered up for ritual sacrifice after being caught in their lair.

I have a friend who works the Dali Lama’s “show” when he comes to L.A. every year.  She worked it at the Shrine when you saw him and she’s about to work it again at the Pasadena Civic where he does his thing these days.  I remember the first time she did the Dali Lama show she wasn’t all that enthused about it, but afterwards...well she looks forward to it every year as a wonderful, spiritual event.  The really cool thing is that the Dalai Lama himself, as well as his staff, always seem to remember her and are so kind and lovely.
What a great example of a spiritual life.

interesting.  last time i was at the shrine, i met an important eminence, too.  mine was The Boss, Bruce Springsteen, though....not the Dalai Lama.

i was doing backstage set up for a benefit show for the Christic Institute.  you may recall them as the people who put Ollie North on trial.....fat lot of good it did them.  but anyway, they were a great organization, and i did a lot of volunteer work for them.  because of my background in theatre, i volunteered to assist on this show....Bonnie Raitt, Jackson Browne and Bruce Springsteen. i really only wanted to see bonnie’s set...didn’t care a lot about the others.

as i was descending a precipitous backstage spiral staircase, a guy with dark curly hair was coming up.  we had to kind of sidle past one another, and we gave each other the obligatory “hi” grunt.  it wasn’t till i got to the next landing that i realized i had just passed Bruce Springsteen in close quarters. 

i have always thought that that was a pretty cool story, but i like yours better.

from bcn.....
lilsis