I met my hero and was lost for words. It was perfect

During a recent trip to the Indian Himalayas, my husband and I found ourselves in McLeod Ganj, home to the Fourteenth Dalai Lama and the Tibetan government-in-exile. They say never meet your heroes, but when we were unexpectedly given the chance to meet His Holiness, we were willing to take the risk.

Silence can indeed be golden.Credit: Jamie Brown

For the six days between confirming our attendance to the public blessing and the moment itself, my mind went wild conjuring questions to ask him. How can we be truly selfless in a deeply materialistic culture? At a time of such environmental and social upheaval, how can we bring more peace to the world? How can we stay optimistic, when everything seems to be falling apart?

I wanted to make the moment count. After all, it’s not every day you get to meet a man dedicated to fostering global peace, who won a Nobel Peace Prize for his efforts in the Tibetan liberation movement, and who has inspired millions with his teachings on mindfulness.

When the morning arrives, I put on a nice dress (a long white one which I think makes me look more pure and spiritual) and we make our way to the Tsuglagkhang Complex where the Dalai Lama lives. After passing through rigorous security checks, showing our passports, checking in our bags and receiving a thorough pat down, we enter the black iron gates protecting his residence.

The morning sun scatters diamonds through the trees as we walk up the hill to join 300-odd waiting pilgrims, being moved into a strictly ordered single file line. I’m placed near the front, between a German Buddhist nun and a barefoot Irish hippie with a dreadlocked top knot.

A flurry of activity announces His Holiness’s arrival, escorted by half a dozen assistants to a brown- cushioned office chair, and within a minute, the line starts moving.

Before I know it, the German nun is standing before him, offering an elaborate thangka artwork of a Buddhist deity. My heart races with the realisation that I didn’t bring a gift, and I still don’t know what I’ll say or how I’m meant to behave. Did the nun bow? Should I? Do I greet him with prayer hands? Am I allowed to touch him? Why has no one told me what to do?

Suddenly there I am, looking into a face I’ve seen on hundreds of book and magazine covers, TV shows and films, throughout my adult life. The Dalai Lama lifts my hand (his skin is unusually soft) and presses it to his forehead, then peers into my face with his small, twinkly eyes. My mind goes blank. The questions vanish. I smile dumbly, and all that tumbles off my dry tongue is, “thank you”, before his secretary sweeps me away to have a red blessing string wrapped around my wrist.

Walking back down the hill, my hands still trembling, I heave a deep sigh. I didn’t ask a single question. How could words have failed me, at such a crucial moment? I spend the rest of the day quietly self-flagellating.

The next morning, though, I start to wonder whether the surreal moment unfolded just as it should have. In a world full of noise, where countless quasi-profound soundbites are thrown at us on social media each day, perhaps silence is the best way to connect with one of the world’s most important spiritual teachers.

Maybe, in the end, no question needed to be asked. Maybe the moment, like any moment of intense love, beauty, spirituality or deep sorrow, was just too big for words.