How Meeting The Dalai Lama Changed One Executive’s Perspective on Business
The following is an excerpt from Moral Fiber by Shawn Vij:
Stillness surrounded me as I sat on the edge of a weathered couch in the circular lobby of a downtown San Jose, California, hotel. I felt the tear and thread of the cloth as my hand clutched the armrest. It was February 24, 2014. The time was 7:32 a.m., and the only people around me were two hotel receptionists and a handful of diplomatic security service agents.
The aroma of fresh coffee filled the air while the chanting of protestors outside echoed through the empty halls and arched ceilings of the lobby. I was anxious. My heart pounded with the sense that my life, in a moment, was about to change. Sitting there on the couch, I knew there was a reason — one I could not explain — for everything that I had become, and everything I was going to be.
Suddenly, two security men in navy suits approached me and my brother who was seated next to me. They asked for our names and identification before escorting us into an old cargo elevator that carried me and my anxiety up fifteen floors.
As the doors slowly opened, I began to see, for the first time, my purpose in life.
The hallway was filled with people in maroon robes, and my mind started to crawl into equanimity. I felt detached from everyone and everything around me, as I bowed my head and walked toward His Holiness the Dalai Lama.
The noises around me silenced, and each step toward His Holiness reinforced my calling. Tears welled in my eyes as I dropped to my knees before him to touch his feet.
His eyes were soft as he looked at me. In that moment, it was as though he could feel the cause of all my suffering.
The Dalai Lama gently reached down and lifted me with his hands. He pulled me close to him as I shared with him my story.
“I don’t know why, but I feel so angry,” I revealed.
“The only way to get past anger is to have compassion,” he told me.
“I don’t know if I have that right now,” I confessed.
“You’re getting blinded by the anger. It will come.”
The Dalai Lama suggested I read, A Guide to the Bodhisattva’s Way of Life, which contain practices or disciplines someone would use to attain self-realization. He said I should pay close attention to chapters six, seven, and nine, especially the last.
“What’s chapter nine?” I asked.
“Chapter nine is on wisdom. Wisdom will help you. Wisdom will be your guide.”
“Wisdom will be my guide to what?” I wondered out loud.
“Wisdom will be the guide to your happiness,” he said matter-of-factly.
That was hard for me to believe. I didn’t feel happy, and I doubted if I ever would. Truthfully, what was happiness? What did the word mean? As we spoke, a constant smile graced his face. He never lost eye contact with me nor did he drop my hand from his. Throughout our conversation, security guards, monks, diplomats, and my brother gathered around us, watching, listening, and fully engaged as if they were experiencing my pain with me.
And through all the hurt that surged, I was able to find a place of inner peace.
As our time together ended, His Holiness leaned close to me, so close only I could hear what he whispered in my ear.
“Your enemy is your greatest teacher. And your greatest enemy is in you.”
I was in awe of this man.
“You are my master,” I said reverently, but he furrowed his brow at my comment and in a rather scolding tone, admonished me.
“You are your own master.”
