A woman asks the Dalai Lama, “What is the meaning of life?”

Douglas Preston tells a delightful story, set in New Mexico in mid-80s, wherein a not-yet-so-famous Dalai Lama spontaneously asks for the limousine to stop so that four monks — all robes, bare shoulders, and wing-tipped shoes — can try their first-ever lift up a ski slope. After several mishaps and much laughter, everyone repairs to the lodge for cookies and hot chocolate. And then  …

… As we finished, a young waitress with tangled, dirty-blond hair and a beaded headband began clearing our table. She stopped to listen to the conversation and finally sat down, abandoning her work. After a while, when there was a pause, she spoke to the Dalai Lama. “You didn’t like your cookie?”

“Not hungry, thank you.”
“Can I, um, ask a question?”
“Please.”
She spoke with complete seriousness. “What is the meaning of life?”

In my entire week with the Dalai Lama, every conceivable question had been asked—except this one. People had been afraid to ask the one—the really big—question. There was a brief, stunned silence at the table.

The Dalai Lama answered immediately. “The meaning of life is happiness.” He raised his finger, leaning forward, focusing on her as if she were the only person in the world. “Hard question is not, ‘What is meaning of life?’ That is easy question to answer! No, hard question is what make happiness. Money? Big house? Accomplishment? Friends? Or …” He paused. “Compassion and good heart? This is question all human beings must try to answer: What make true happiness?” He gave this last question a peculiar emphasis and then fell silent, gazing at her with a smile.

“Thank you,” she said, “thank you.” She got up and finished stacking the dirty dishes and cups, and took them away.