I Think Of The Dalai Lama As

For If Every True Love Affair Can Feel Like A Journey To A Foreign Country, Where You Can’t Quite Speak The Language, And You Don’t Know Where You’re Going, And You’re Pulled Ever Deeper Into The Inviting Darkness, Every Trip To A Foreign Country Can Be A Love Affair, Where You’re Left Puzzling Over Who You Are And Whom You’ve Fallen In Love With.

What More Could One Ask Of A Companion? To Be Forever New And Yet Forever Steady, To Be Strange And Familiar All At Once, With Enough Change To Quicken My Mind, Enough Steadiness To Give Sanctuary To My Heart. The Books On My Shelf Never Asked To Come Together And They Would Not Trust Or Want To Listen To One Another. But Each Is A Piece Of A Stained-glass Whole, Without Which I Wouldn’t Make Sense To Myself Or To The World Outside.

I Think Dalai Lama Efforts Have Been Heroic.

We Can Better See What We Don't Have. The Other Man's Grass Is Always Greener And Now We Can Actually Go And Visit His Grass Much More And Feel The Absence Of Green In Our Own Lives.

Like The Moon On The Water, In A Way. When You Confront A Zen Master, What You're Really Seeing Are Not His Limitations But Yours.