The Dalai Lama's Cat and the Power of Meow by David Michie Page B

“He’s living in Bhutan right now.”
    â€œWith his family?”
    â€œSome sort of job helping the queen.”
    My ears pricked up at this. As a relative of the Bhutanese royal family, it had been Lobsang who’d arranged for the adoption of my one and only daughter, little Snow Cub, by the queen.
    â€œHow interesting the way the world turns.” Serena reached out to stroke me. “And how reassuring that Lobsang will be keeping an eye on Rinpoche’s daughter.”
    â€œIn Bhutan?” asked Oliver.
    As Serena explained the connection, Oliver looked over at me with new reverence.
    â€œGood heavens!” he exclaimed. “So HHC is the queen’s cat’s mother!”
    â€œCould there be any higher nobility?” Tenzin asked with a droll smile as the three of them observed me washing me ears.
    â€œThere may be,” smiled Oliver. “But none that I’ve ever heard of!”

    His Holiness returned that afternoon, and within minutes of his arrival was receiving a visitor. His guest was a very senior executive from one of the best-known social media organizations in the world. Being a cat of immense discretion, let me just say that name of the company where the visitor was a high flier is reminiscent of the sound made by birds in the trees. By way of a further, very subtle clue, the corporate brand is not a million miles away from rhyming with that essential cat bathroom provision: litter.
    â€œYour Holiness,” began the visitor. He had a balding head, dark-rimmed glasses, and a radiant intelligence. “The reason I’m here today is to invite you to address a conference of the world’s leading consumer electronic companies in Silicon Valley next year.”
    As I eavesdropped from my place on the sill, he went on to explain how every year there was a big conference offering a forum for social media networks, consumer product manufacturers, and mindfulness teachers.
    After the visitor had finished his explanation, the Dalai Lama reached over and took his hand. “Tell me,” he said as he looked deep into his eyes, “do you yourself meditate?”
    â€œOh yes, Your Holiness!”
    â€œAnd you encourage others in your organization to do so?”
    The visitor nodded. “It’s an important part of what I do. Of course, you can’t force someone to meditate. But we have daily sessions, dedicated quiet rooms, and at certain meetings, like brainstorms, we always begin with two minutes of meditation.”
    His Holiness was intrigued.
    â€œCan I ask why?”
    It was as though he had pressed a Play button in the mind of the Californian businessman.
    â€œWe operate in the most ferociously competitive markets of the world. And the fastest-moving!” His eyes lit up, and his face became animated. “By the time any new product becomes available, it is already six, twelve months out-of-date. In our business environment, one thing matters more than anything else: innovation! We need to be creative. We need to unleash our employees’ talent to work out what’s going to matter to consumers a year from now, and to develop the perfect application for them before anyone else does.
    â€œWe find,” he said, his voice lowered to a sacramental tone, “that when people meditate, they are more innovative.”
    The Dalai Lama was nodding seriously.
    â€œBy contrast, if their minds are agitated, they can’t see what might be staring them in the face.”
    This was a theme I’d often heard His Holiness talk about. “Like a glass of storm water scooped out of the gutter,” the Dalai Lama said. “Very murky. But rest the glass on a flat surface for a while, and the sediment settles. You have clear water—you can see right through it.”
    â€œA wonderful metaphor!” chimed the visitor. “I will definitely be sharing that one when I get home. We also find that when people meditate they