The Dalai Lama's Blessing

It had been three months since I arrived in Dharamsala. My visa was about to expire, and I had to leave India soon. I had tried many times to secure a public audience with His Holiness. I had sent several emails, but each one had been denied for various reasons.  After insisting for a while, I realized that arguing with a monk behind a computer to secure a spot was pulling me away from the true essence of the experience. So, I let it go, accepting that if it was meant to happen, it would. And just like that, when I finally released the desire, it happened, as it often does.

I had already seen the Dalai Lama four times in the open teachings he gives at the temple, surrounded by thousands of Tibetans. Each time, I felt deeply blessed. My tears upon seeing him and the energy I received were already a tremendous gift to me. To ask for more felt like sheer greed.

Three days before I was due to leave the town, having resigned myself to the fact that I had tried everything, I received an email saying they could make space for me to attend an audience with the Dalai Lama, but for the following week.

Is this a joke? I thought. Next week, I'll already be gone. I've been trying for three months, and they give me a date for when I’ll have already left!I tried to express this to the monk by email, with a bit more respect but the same undertone of frustration. Without much hope, I asked if they could find me a spot sooner.

In my mind, I had already let it go. I had built a more elevated argument for myself: I decided it was better to practice detachment, to be content with all that I had already experienced, and to pray even more fervently for the Dalai Lama's long life, trusting that I would see him again when the time was right.

Deep down, I think the idea of facing him made me nervous.

What do you do when you find yourself before someone like that? As if you were standing in front of a demigod.

For Buddhists, the Dalai Lama is considered the very reincarnation of the Buddha of Compassion — Avalokiteshvara — so, seen from this perspective, he is not just an ordinary being, but an enlightened one: a Buddha who reached full enlightenment — nirvana — and still chose to reincarnate in this world to help all sentient beings liberate themselves from suffering. Since I first encountered Buddhism two years ago when I arrived in India, I began to realize that something in my soul was inherently Buddhist. There were emotions and sensations within my body that didn't quite belong to me, or perhaps, without realizing it, they belonged to me too much. So, the Dalai Lama is that for me as well.

Imagine facing someone like that. For my mind, it was too much.

That morning, I had gone to visit the Rinpoche, a Buddhist teacher who held classes at the corner of the temple. Since I had moved to Dharamkot, the little village further up the mountain, I no longer came down as often as before. Returning to that small room with just seven people, all seated on the floor, listening to the monk's teachings, felt beautiful. And there, holding a small booklet of Tibetan mantras, I felt a strange urge to check my emails. Had the monk from the Dalai Lama’s office replied?

I discreetly opened my inbox under the small table resting on my knees, and there it was — the response from the temple:

"Alright, then we'll make space for you this Wednesday." (Which meant the day after tomorrow!)

A smile spread across my face. Something within me had sensed it, but now it wasn't a feeling of anxiety — it was one of deep gratitude. A tear slipped down my cheek, one of those moments of insight when everything makes sense. I had truly let go. I had "surrendered" to the flow of energy and reached a higher understanding. I had clung to more altruistic reasons, content with the thought that perhaps my spot would go to someone who needed it more than I did because, in truth, I had already received so much. And then, after realizing all this, like a trophy of congratulations, came the unexpected reward: this long-awaited opportunity had finally come to me.

It worked because I had surrendered.

That’s sometimes how things come to us, when we let go because we have already learned the lesson. Then, we don't take them out of need, but as a pure gift of worthiness. And in that way, their value is doubled.

How do you prepare for something like that? Probably just by meditating.

I was nervous. What do you say or do in such a special moment?

The mind, as always, trying to take control, trying to squeeze every possible advantage out of the situation, when in reality, "what to do" felt more like opening myself up, letting whatever needed to happen just happen, and trying to stay as calm as possible to receive whatever unfolded.

That Wednesday, I got up very early and meditated on this.

The four times I had seen him in public teachings from a considerable distance, I had started to cry — sometimes even before catching sight of him.

Would I be able to handle having him right in front of me?

The Dalai Lama is someone I admire deeply. I have felt a strong connection to him since the first time I saw him. His story, his words, and his actions have touched me and shaped the way I see life.

An Argentine friend of mine, also a Buddhist, who has been living in Dharamsala for several years, had advised me to prepare an intention, and perhaps a question, if I wanted to.

This time, my intention was very clear. For a while now, I've had less to ask for and much more to be grateful for. The first thing that came to mind, something that was already imprinted in my heart, was the desire to view my writing project from a more altruistic perspective. To step out of my self-centered mind and see beyond myself, so that my writings could genuinely benefit those who read them and make that my greatest driving force. On the other hand, there was a very old personal wish: to find a partner with whom to share life genuinely and live a simple life, enjoying all of it. Simple, or perhaps not so much. Those were my most honest desires today, so that’s what I carried with me.

And the question? What would you ask an enlightened being? Perhaps with my mind, many things, but from my heart, there was nothing I felt needed answering. Just having the chance to see him was more than a blessing — was I really going to burden him with a question on top of that? With everything he had already given me, with all the knowledge he shared, with his life as an example? I felt like he had already told us everything. What could I possibly ask him?

My soul overflowed with love, pure gratitude, and although my mind tried to seize the tremendous opportunity before me to ask for more, nothing came to mind but gratitude, and that, too, said a lot, so I decided to carry that with me as well.

That morning, I got ready with as much love as I hadn’t felt in a long time. I put on my favorite stone necklaces and an outfit that felt right — not the prettiest, but the most meaningful — like someone dressing for a celebration, because to me, it was.

I walked down to the temple through the pine trees I love so much, arriving later than planned but embracing who I am. I bought a white kata — a traditional Tibetan scarf for the master to place around your neck — and a new mala, a Buddhist rosary, turquoise stone rosary, to be blessed by His Holiness.

I checked in, and after passing through several security checkpoints, they began calling us by name and nationality: "Ayelén," they said, always mispronouncing my name, as tends to happen, "Argentina."

They lined us up, me and the 200 or so others who had been chosen to receive the blessing. We formed a long, C-shaped line, and soon after, He arrived, in his little golf cart driven by monks. The meeting would take place in one of the private courtyards of the temple where he lives.

I waited for my turn, a bit nervous, closing my eyes, trying to connect as deeply as possible with my intention, while the line moved me closer, step by step, to His Holiness.

One of the monks took my kata and placed it around my neck, as is tradition. Another took my rosary and arranged it appropriately so it would be easier to bless. Everything was happening so quickly. There was barely time for the Dalai Lama to raise his hand in blessing, and if you were fortunate and clear-headed enough, perhaps you could ask a question or say something to him.

I surrendered to whatever needed to happen, with as few expectations as possible. Just being there was an immense joy, and I had no greater expectations than that.I moved forward until my turn was almost up. Before I was directly in front of him, he turned his head and looked at me. I approached, bowing my head as low as I could, as my body told me was fitting to express the deepest respect. I looked into his eyes, smiled, and then lowered my head again.His energy was immense.

Suddenly, I felt his finger approaching my face, in slow motion, like when Mr. Burns transforms into an alien and points his index finger to the sky, surrounded by a green aura. His finger moved directly toward my lip piercing, eyes filled with curiosity. It’s funny because that little ring I've had in my mouth since I was 15 is quite unusual in India — all the women wear extravagant nose rings, but that’s about it — so mine stands out and tends to catch people’s attention, apparently even his. With that characteristic grace and humor of his, he reached for my ring with the same gentle playfulness of a grandfather.

I smiled and froze like a statue, as if I didn’t want to disturb his movements in the slightest.

I extended my hand with my rosary, my body leaning forward with as much humility and respect as I had ever managed to convey in my entire life. I looked into his clear eyes, so deeply set in his face that they seemed to have no end, trying to etch every millimeter of his face into my memory:

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. You are a big example for all of us. You and your people are a big example for all of us. Thank you, thank you, thank you." I said, my hands pressed together at my heart.

I had rehearsed better lines, but when you have someone so immense in front of you, your mind goes into autopilot, and you barely manage to string together coherent behavior, trying not to act like a child in a candy store. In some corner of my existence, that’s exactly what I was — a child in a candy store — but I had already learned to push my ego aside, so I didn’t feel the need to disguise any of what I was feeling. I had the Dalai Lama himself right in front of me, so I just acted in accordance with that immense, inexplicable sensation.

In that state of awe, I repeated "Thank you" about six times, my eyes brimming with deep gratitude. In the end, I think that was the purest intention of my heart — to thank him for so, so, so much. In that moment, what truly needed to come out, did.

He looked at me for a few microseconds that felt like an eternity, and then, slowly, once again in that slow-motion way that a 90-year-old man moves — a man with the body of an elder but an energy that transcends it — he began to bring his forehead closer to mine. I didn't fully understand what was happening. Even though everything was moving slowly, my mind was distorted by the emotion. I only remember feeling frozen, completely open to his movements. Like a mirror, like someone so overwhelmed by the energy of the moment that they can’t manage to make their own movements. The photos the monks took helped me reconstruct the scene later.

His forehead touched mine. I didn’t know it then, but this is how Tibetan monks greet each other — as a symbol of connection and a way to exchange energy — and so, that’s what he did. After a few seconds, one of the guards told me to place my hand on his head. That struck me as something quite unusual, considering how meticulously planned all the movements and scenes seemed to be.I felt a profound bliss, and at the same time, I was frozen, waiting, like a kitten being held by the scruff of its neck — doing everything they told me to do. So, I did it. I placed my left hand on his head for a few seconds, until the same voice said, "That’s enough." I withdrew my hand, my body still floating in mid-air. I think that was when I learned to speak with my eyes.

A part of me, deep down, couldn’t quite believe everything that was happening, but "I" felt nothing but infinite happiness in that moment — pure, powerful, and at the same time so simple, harmonious, and fluid, like being reunited with your grandfather, like we had known each other forever — or perhaps from another lifetime. There were hundreds of people and guards around, but in those fleeting minutes of the encounter, it felt like it was just me and him, as if we were placed in a parenthesis, outside of time and the world, as if we had slipped into a portal or a hole to another dimension. Like floating in a bubble.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," I said one last time, pressing my palms to my heart, my eyes overflowing with love. I assume he had never seen anyone look at him like that before, and I slowly backed away, not wanting to leave, not wanting that moment to ever end.

I walked backward and broke into tears , the kind that are beautiful, that are pure happiness and emotion. I can’t believe I held it together for so long... As if the monks knew exactly what this profound encounter makes us feel — of course they do — one of them was waiting for me, ready to offer a tissue. Through my tears, I took it as best as I could, my other hand covering my mouth as if I couldn’t believe what I had just experienced. And just like when you step off a stage after receiving a diploma of honor, with flowers being handed to you and pats on the back, other monks in line a few steps ahead handed me, first, a red thread to tie around my wrist as a bracelet. A few more steps and they handed me a large yellow envelope, which contained a beautiful photo of His Holiness and some Tibetan seeds for good health. All of this happened while I cried like a little girl who just met her favorite person, because yes, he was more than just my favorite person. I had just seen the reincarnation of a living Buddha on earth. We had been face to face, and he had asked me to touch his head. Could I possibly receive a greater blessing than that? It wasn’t just a blessing; it was a divine gift.

"For us Buddhists, His Holiness is the Buddha of Compassion, so every action he takes with his body, speech, and mind is for the benefit of others. No gesture is random. Any contact with a bodhisattva — a being who postpones their own nirvana to help others reach enlightenment — or a Buddha creates a positive connection for the long term. So consider yourself enormously blessed." How could I not feel that way after all this...

What did it mean?

Internally, for me, it meant a lot.

What happened wasn’t random, that I know. He didn’t act the same way with everyone, that I saw too. His power goes beyond what we can perceive, so without a doubt, from his infinite wisdom, each of us received exactly what our soul needed in that moment, and from that perspective, I couldn’t help but feel incredibly special, because that’s exactly how he made me feel. With that gesture, he was, in some way, responding to my intention, and I will cherish that forever as a gift.

I walked through the temple gardens with tears streaming down my face. I didn’t want that feeling to ever end, didn’t want the vibrations in my body to change, didn’t want that energy to disappear. Neither did the couple my age in front of me, who clung to each other, sobbing together, allowing me to do the same.

Even though our bodies didn’t want to leave, we had to exit the grounds. I sat on a bench outside the office where we had entered.They sat too, still in awe, overflowing with tears and emotion. I believe everyone who has the fortune of getting close to His Holiness feels the same. We didn’t know each other, but we looked at one another with a sense of complicity, as if we perfectly understood what the other was feeling, as if being a mirror for each other gave us one more validation for such an intense experience. What we had just lived through was indescribable.

I opened the envelope the monk had handed me. Inside was a large photo of His Holiness. I took it in my hands and closed my eyes. I was sitting beneath a tree full of monkeys. Nothing else mattered in that moment.

I remained there with my eyes closed, still, meditating with his photo in my hand, replaying everything in my mind — every scene, every second, every movement — tearing up all over again, my body still vibrating, still there with him in front of me. I didn’t want to move, as if that stillness could somehow freeze the moment in time. That’s what I did.

His glass-like eyes. Their infinite depth.

His energy all around me. His hand reaching out. My words of gratitude. My exaggerated smile, exposing my upper gums. My eyes overflowing with love, perfectly expressing everything I was feeling. My left hand vibrating like never before. I could feel the energy more strongly than ever.

Five hours passed, and I was still there, motionless, meditating, opening and closing my eyes, replaying the scenes, floating, blessed, in ecstasy. Overflowing with that inner peace that Buddhists have, a peace so joyful and harmonious that it makes your soul smile.

I didn’t want anything to taint that scene, just to stay there a while longer and let that moment continue to bless me with that sweet elixir of joy.

I had been touched by a master, a great one, and there are no words to explain that.

I didn’t want to move from there, which wasn’t just the bench outside the temple, but that place within him, within his mind, in his memory — to inhabit his world: my face in his mind.

Those eyes, so compassionate like none I had ever seen. That smile, so full of hope, and cheeks so brimming with joy as if they had never known pain.

Breathing within his same energetic field.

After five hours in the temple, I had to leave, but a part of me decided to stay there, alongside that rosary we shared, in those seconds I spent in his gaze, a place I return to every time I meditate.There, where I draw energy whenever I need it, a new space of connection, forever etched in my mind and my practice as one more tool, a powerful one, for connecting with the divine. A return to that moment, where everything seems possible, where pain cannot reach, where his energetic field transforms everything into love and compassion. A portal to the divine.

A refuge I already knew, one that becomes more and more my own.

You're going to reap many fruits,

You're going to need many baskets,

prepare yourself because they will be big.

Beautiful things are coming.

You have enormous power.

If you have to act: Act!

You have a great task, you know this.

Start believing in your blessings.

We are connected. Return to that moment of happiness whenever you need it.

Compassion isn't just taught in monasteries. Here, it is lived with every step,seen in every moment, in every street conversation,

in every slow walk.

How beautiful to live there, in that constant calm,knowing that what is meant to arrive will arrive,

and so, we no longer run, we simply wait with hope

Thank you for sharing this magical and meaningful experience with me. I hope these words inspire you to be more patient,

to understand that everything meant for us arrives at the right time,

that we should never give up,

that the greatest things were also brought to life by small people,

in small places, doing "small" things,

who had faith and love for what they did, and surely felt fear too.

That every gesture born from love matters, no matter how small,

and that these are the seeds with which we sow our garden.

So, what would you like to see bloom there tomorrow?

May we never forget that we can all be touched by the divine,

whatever that word means to us.

We just need to be in the right place where we are meant to be.

❦

Never give up, no matter what is happening around you, never give up and develop the heart. We spend too much energy developing our heads instead of our hearts. Develop the heart, be compassionate

not only to your friends but to everyone. Be compassionate,

work for peace, both in the world and within yourself. And remember, no matter what happens around you:

NEVER GIVE UP."

Dalai Lama.

Dharamsala, India. April 2025.

"I had wanted to offer him something, as is customary in Buddhism. So I took off one of my very simple wooden rosaries that I had bought some time ago and thought of giving it to him. The way to make the offering was to place it in the designated space alongside other offerings people were making: statues, books, and Buddhist objects.Mine was something very simple, small, and probably insignificant, but that's how I imagine material things in the context of spirituality.

The security guard took my rosary. I wrote my name and surname on a small tag, pinned it to the rosary, drew a heart in pen, and handed it over. That rosary is, in some symbolic way, there in the temple now. I bought myself another one exactly like it, the same color, as a way to stay connected to Him and to give something of myself — something more of myself."