It was my first week back from Bhutan, and an email from a treasured colleague (a consummate DC networker with impeccable taste) pops onto my screen. "Caro--are you coming to the launch reception at my house this week?" Without thinking, I write back "Sorry, I have a hair appointment." What?
Several hours later, my boss asks me the same question, to which I give her the same answer. "What do you mean you have a hair appointment?" she responds, "Caroline, have you lost your mind?"
Turns out while I was finding inner peace in Bhutan, I misplaced some of my sensibilities, particularly those related to work. Luckily, that's why we have great bosses to remind us of priorities like important launch events for projects we deeply care about.
The cocktail reception, like its host, is high-cotton. After polite greetings to key people, I seek out a glass of wine and a colleague who is willing to listen to me talk about Bhutan for the thousandth time. I'm in the middle of teaching him my mantra (Live through love, without judgment...), when the door opens and in walks Tony Blair. Yes, that Tony Blair.
Had I given more than two thoughts to the event I was attending (aside from it conflicting with my hair appointment), I could have guessed he would be there. But of course, my week-old-Buddhist-mind was still in the Himalayas. Which is to say that I was enveloped in fog with prayers flags flapping between my ears.
So here I am, standing in the living room of my friend-the-consummate-networker, four feet from the former Prime Minister of England. I start to wonder if he's ever been to Bhutan. Or if he appreciated Hugh Grant's portrayal of him in Love Actually as much as I did (e.g. with unbridled enthusiasm and adoration)...
Then the fog lifts ever so slightly, and I see the man standing in front of me. A great leader. A dedicated public servant. Ridiculed for his every political move, all while reckoning with a way forward. I see him next to his wife, a leader in her own right. Hearing him speak about their marraige, work, and life together, I am touched by his humor and wit. I suddenly feel comforted by the wholeness of his humanity.
What a wonderfully freeing thing: to witness another's humanity and accept its relativity to your own. Here in my friend's living room, surrounded by 50 marginally significant strangers, the Prime Minister could not have been more gracious and humble.
I am very glad that I canceled my hair appointment.
Several hours later, my boss asks me the same question, to which I give her the same answer. "What do you mean you have a hair appointment?" she responds, "Caroline, have you lost your mind?"
Turns out while I was finding inner peace in Bhutan, I misplaced some of my sensibilities, particularly those related to work. Luckily, that's why we have great bosses to remind us of priorities like important launch events for projects we deeply care about.
The cocktail reception, like its host, is high-cotton. After polite greetings to key people, I seek out a glass of wine and a colleague who is willing to listen to me talk about Bhutan for the thousandth time. I'm in the middle of teaching him my mantra (Live through love, without judgment...), when the door opens and in walks Tony Blair. Yes, that Tony Blair.
Had I given more than two thoughts to the event I was attending (aside from it conflicting with my hair appointment), I could have guessed he would be there. But of course, my week-old-Buddhist-mind was still in the Himalayas. Which is to say that I was enveloped in fog with prayers flags flapping between my ears.
So here I am, standing in the living room of my friend-the-consummate-networker, four feet from the former Prime Minister of England. I start to wonder if he's ever been to Bhutan. Or if he appreciated Hugh Grant's portrayal of him in Love Actually as much as I did (e.g. with unbridled enthusiasm and adoration)...
Then the fog lifts ever so slightly, and I see the man standing in front of me. A great leader. A dedicated public servant. Ridiculed for his every political move, all while reckoning with a way forward. I see him next to his wife, a leader in her own right. Hearing him speak about their marraige, work, and life together, I am touched by his humor and wit. I suddenly feel comforted by the wholeness of his humanity.
What a wonderfully freeing thing: to witness another's humanity and accept its relativity to your own. Here in my friend's living room, surrounded by 50 marginally significant strangers, the Prime Minister could not have been more gracious and humble.
I am very glad that I canceled my hair appointment.
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