In a world that often feels fragmented and fast-paced, many of us are searching for a compass—a way to live that feels both grounded and deeply ethical. Thich Nhat Hanh, the beloved Zen Master and founder of the Plum Village tradition, offered exactly that through the Five Mindfulness Trainings.
These aren’t rigid “commandments” or a list of “don’ts.” Instead, they are a modern, proactive framework for cultivating peace, protecting life, and nurturing happiness within ourselves and the world.
At their core, the trainings are a reinterpretation of traditional Buddhist precepts, designed for our modern, interconnected lives.
Reverence for Life This training is an invitation to cultivate compassion. It’s about more than just avoiding harm; it’s about actively protecting life and practicing nonviolence toward ourselves, our neighbors, and the natural world.
True Happiness We often chase wealth or fame, thinking they are the keys to joy. This training reminds us that true happiness is found in generosity and the ability to be content in the present moment. It encourages us to live simply and avoid exploiting others.
True Love In our relationships, integrity is everything. This training emphasizes responsibility and ensures that our most intimate connections are grounded in deep love, commitment, and respect for the harmony of families.
Loving Speech and Deep Listening Communication is a powerful tool for healing. By practicing deep listening without judgment and using speech that inspires hope and reconciliation, we can move mountains of misunderstanding and alleviate the suffering of those around us.
Nourishment and Healing What we “consume” isn’t just food. It’s the media we watch, the conversations we have, and the substances we use. This training focuses on mindful consumption to protect our mental and physical well-being from toxins and despair.
The beauty of the Five Mindfulness Trainings lies in how they address the complexities of the 21st century.
Interbeing: They are rooted in the understanding that we are not separate entities. What happens to the Earth happens to us. When we heal ourselves, we heal the world.
Universal Ethics: While born from Buddhist wisdom, these trainings are non-sectarian. They are accessible to anyone, regardless of their religious or spiritual background.
Transformation over Rules: This is an ongoing practice. The goal isn’t “perfection” but a continuous, mindful process of shifting our focus from self-interest to collective well-being.
Sangha (Community) Support: We don’t have to do this alone. These trainings are often practiced within a Sangha, a community of friends who support each other in staying mindful and compassionate.
The Five Mindfulness Trainings are a gift—a map that leads us back to our best selves. By embracing these guidelines, we contribute to a collective awakening, one mindful breath and one compassionate action at a time.
“The Five Mindfulness Trainings are the most concrete way to practice mindfulness. They show us how to live our lives in a way that brings peace and happiness to ourselves and to others.” — Thich Nhat Hanh
In times of uncertainty and turmoil, the voice of compassion becomes more precious than ever. Thich Nhat Hanh was a world-renowned Vietnamese Zen Buddhist monk, teacher, poet, author, and peace activist whose life embodied mindfulness and nonviolence. His profound influence reached far beyond the Buddhist community; he was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize by Martin Luther King Jr., who recognized in him “an apostle of peace and nonviolence.”
Today, as the world feels divided and restless, his poem “Call Me by My True Names” invites us to look deeply into our shared humanity. It challenges us to see beyond separation—beyond “us” and “them”—and to recognize that within each of us lives both suffering and compassion. Reading his words now feels like a gentle but powerful reminder: true peace begins when we awaken to our interconnectedness.
Call Me by My True Names
Do not say that I’ll depart tomorrow because even today I still arrive.
Look deeply: I arrive in every second to be a bud on a spring branch, to be a tiny bird, with wings still fragile, learning to sing in my new nest, to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower, to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.
I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry, in order to fear and to hope. The rhythm of my heart is the birth and death of all that are alive.
I am the mayfly metamorphosing on the surface of the river, and I am the bird which, when spring comes, arrives in time to eat the mayfly.
I am the frog swimming happily in the clear pond, and I am also the grass-snake who, approaching in silence, feeds itself on the frog.
I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones, my legs as thin as bamboo sticks, and I am the arms merchant, selling deadly weapons to Uganda.
I am the twelve-year-old girl, refugee on a small boat, who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea pirate, and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and loving.
I am a member of the politburo, with plenty of power in my hands, and I am the man who has to pay his “debt of blood” to, my people, dying slowly in a forced labor camp.
My joy is like spring, so warm it makes flowers bloom in all walks of life. My pain is like a river of tears, so full it fills the four oceans.
Please call me by my true names, so I can hear all my cries and laughs at once, so I can see that my joy and pain are one.
Please call me by my true names, so I can wake up, and so the door of my heart can be left open, the door of compassion.
Each time I read “Call Me by My True Names” by Thich Nhat Hanh, I feel both unsettled and awakened.
The poem asks us to see what we often refuse to see—that we are not separate from the suffering of the world. We are not only the compassionate helper, but also, in some deep and interconnected way, the frightened child, the victim, and even the one who causes harm. This is not an easy truth to hold. Yet it is a profoundly liberating one.
The poem gently dissolves the illusion of “us” and “them.” It invites us to return to our true humanity—tender, vulnerable, and deeply connected.
And perhaps, in remembering this, we take one small but meaningful step toward peace.
In the rich tapestry of Tibetan Buddhism, there are extraordinary practitioners whose lives themselves become teachings. Among them, Ayu Khandro (阿玉康卓) — also known by her Dharma name Dorje Peldron — stands as one of the most inspiring yoginis of the Nyingma tradition. Her life is not merely a story; it is a living example of devotion, perseverance, and profound realization.
Born in 1839 in the remote region of Kham, eastern Tibet, Ayu Khandro began her spiritual journey at a young age. She received teachings from many of the greatest masters of her time, including Jamyang Khyentse Wangpo, Jamgon Kongtrul, Chokgyur Lingpa, Nyala Pema Dundul, Adzom Drukpa, and Togden Rangrig — figures who were central to the non-sectarian Rimé movement in Tibetan Buddhism.
Unlike many who seek comfort or recognition, Ayu Khandro chose a life of renunciation and yogic discipline. She wandered widely across Tibet, lived in caves and hermitages, and devoted herself to decades of intense meditation. She spent more than fifty years in retreat, including prolonged periods of dark retreat, known in Tibetan as Yangti Nagpo — an advanced Dzogchen practice where the meditator withdraws from external light to focus inwardly on the nature of mind.
Dzogchen — The Great Perfection
Ayu Khandro’s life was profoundly rooted in Dzogchen (Great Perfection) — a teaching that points directly to the intrinsic, luminous nature of consciousness. Rather than seeking external accomplishments, she focused entirely on direct inner realization.
She was recognized as a terton — a revealer of hidden teachings — and was particularly known for transmitting sacred practices and giving initiations to practitioners, including the renowned master Chogyal Namkhai Norbu Rinpoche, who later wrote her biography based on her own oral account.
Ayu Khandro lived to the remarkable age of 115. In 1953, near the end of her life, she received visitors, gave away her precious possessions, and continued to teach and encourage those around her. After she passed away, it is reported in Tibetan Buddhist biography that her body remained in meditation posture for about two weeks before any signs of physical change occurred. By the end of this period, her body had shrunk to a fraction of its original size — an occurrence some traditions associate with deep spiritual attainment in Dzogchen practice, where the physical elements dissolve into subtler states.
This remarkable account, while extraordinary, is part of how her life has been transmitted in spiritual biographies — not as a spectacle, but as a sign of the depth and authenticity of her practice.
What makes Ayu Khandro’s life especially compelling is not just her longevity or her meditative achievements, but her steadfast devotion to the Dharma. She never sought fame or comfort. Instead, she walked the rugged paths of realization, teaching through action rather than words, presence rather than proclamation. Her retreats, pilgrimages, and meditation practices were not about escape, but about coming fully home to the true nature of mind.
Although few of us will ever undertake decades of meditation in darkness or faraway hermitages, Ayu Khandro’s life still speaks directly to modern seekers. In an era filled with distraction and ambition, her example invites us to ask:
What is true commitment?
How deeply can we trust the path we walk?
Can we place inner understanding above outer achievement?
Her life encourages us to remember that spiritual depth is not measured by loud accomplishments, but by quiet fidelity to practice.
Ayu Khandro remains a powerful reminder that liberation is not found on the surface of life, but in its quiet depths. Her unwavering dedication, her silent courage, and her embrace of the path offer inspiration — not as myth, but as a living reminder of what is humanly possible when devotion meets discipline.
In the clinic, I often hear patients say, “Doctor, my cholesterol is normal, so I don’t need to worry about my heart, right?”
It’s a common belief. For decades, we’ve been trained to look at cardiovascular health through a few familiar numbers. We assume that if our blood pressure is stable and our lipids are low, we are in the clear.
However, modern clinical science is revealing a deeper truth: Cardiovascular disease isn’t just a “fat” problem—it is driven by a hidden engine of chronic inflammation.
What is hsCRP? The Body’s “Systemic Broadcast”
High-sensitivity C-reactive protein (hsCRP) is a protein produced by the liver. It isn’t a hormone or an immune cell; think of it as a broadcast signal for systemic inflammation.
Whenever there is tissue damage, oxidative stress, or immune irritation anywhere in the body, immune signaling molecules (specifically Interleukin-6) tell the liver to start churning out this protein. Therefore, this number doesn’t point to one specific organ; it reflects the current state of your entire immune system.
Many people mistake hsCRP for a passive bystander. In molecular medicine, we know it is an active participant in disease. Under chronic low-grade inflammation, hsCRP actively interferes with your vascular system:
Vascular Lining: It makes immune cells “sticky,” causing them to adhere to vessel walls.
Immune Amplification: It keeps the immune system on high alert, preventing the body from entering a “repair” mode.
Lipid Oxidation: It promotes the formation of oxidized LDL, accelerating the creation of plaque.
Energy Failure: It impairs mitochondrial function, reducing the ability of vascular cells to heal themselves.
This doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a slow accumulation of damage—arteries lose elasticity, plaques become unstable, and eventually, this leads to a heart attack or stroke.
The 2025 Study: A Crystal Ball for Heart Health
A landmark study published in the European Heart Journal (2025) analyzed 448,653 adults with no prior history of heart disease, following them for over 13 years. The researchers categorized hsCRP levels into three risk tiers:
Low Risk: $< 1$ mg/L
Moderate Risk: $1 – 3$ mg/L
High Risk: $> 3$ mg/L
The results were a wake-up call. Compared to those in the “Low Risk” group, individuals with hsCRP $> 3$ mg/L saw:
34% increase in major cardiovascular events.
61% increase in cardiovascular death.
54% increase in all-cause mortality.
In short, a high hsCRP isn’t just “slightly elevated”—it correlates with a more than 50% increase in the risk of death.
The Key Takeaway: While cholesterol tells us how much “oil” is in the system, hsCRP tells us if the “engine is overheating.” Studies suggest hsCRP can be 2 to 3 times more predictive of future heart events than LDL cholesterol alone.
High inflammation is rarely a single-issue problem. It is usually a “molecular shift” involving several systems:
Oxidative Stress: The body’s cleanup crew can’t keep up with metabolic waste.
Fatty Acid Imbalance: Diets high in pro-inflammatory oils.
Chronic Stress: Elevated stress hormones dysregulate the autonomic nervous system.
Gut Health: A compromised gut barrier keeps the immune system in a state of constant irritation.
Your body knows when this is happening. You might feel chronically tired, have fluctuating moods, sensitive digestion, or notice that you take longer to recover after exercise. These aren’t random symptoms; they are the signals of a system under inflammatory load.
How to “Cool Down” the Inflammation
The goal isn’t to “fix” the number with a pill, but to shift the body’s internal environment:
Prioritize Circadian Health: Consistent sleep schedules allow stress hormones to drop, giving the immune system a chance to reset.
Intermittent Gut Rest: Avoid constant grazing. Reducing the frequency of food intake (and cutting out ultra-processed sugars) lowers the daily “immune burden” on your gut.
Mitochondrial Recovery: Instead of high-intensity “grind” workouts, focus on low-to-moderate intensity movement that your body can actually recover from.
Anti-Inflammatory Nutrition: Shift your fat intake toward Omega-3s and antioxidant-rich whole foods to change the molecular structure of your cells.
Here are some Top Anti-Inflammatory Food Groups:
Fruits: Berries (blueberries, strawberries), cherries, citrus fruits, and oranges.
Vegetables: Dark leafy greens (kale, spinach, Swiss chard), broccoli, cabbage, and peppers.
Healthy Fats & Oils: Extra virgin olive oil, avocado, and nuts like walnuts and almonds.
Fatty Fish: Salmon, mackerel, sardines, and anchovies, which are high in omega-3 fatty acids.
Spices & Herbs: Turmeric, ginger, garlic, and cinnamon.
Whole Grains: Oats, quinoa, brown rice, and buckwheat.
Legumes & Seeds: Lentils, black beans, chia seeds, and flaxseed.
Other: Green tea, dark chocolate, and fermented foods like kefir or sauerkraut.
Heart disease isn’t a sudden accident; it’s the result of molecular systems moving in the wrong direction for years.
The beauty of the hsCRP marker is that it allows us to see the “hidden fire” before the building burns down. It gives us the power to change direction while the damage is still reversible.
Understanding your “internal weather” is the first step toward a longer, healthier life. If you found this helpful, feel free to share it with someone who only looks at their cholesterol!
The goal of the ascent in sight: Taktsang Monastery is perched high on the steep cliff face
On a pilgrimage to holy places, one rarely follows a rigid plan. Rather, one engages with a flow of events. Our last days in Bhutan reminded us how valuable it is to let go of expectations. We learned that special doors often open exactly when one is ready to leave the original path.
Change of Plans in Punakha: Trusting the Flow of Things
The sixth day showed us this very clearly. Actually, we had a fixed plan: We wanted to drive from Punakha back to Paro. There, we had donated 3,000 butter lamps which we wanted to light ceremonially in a temple.
But then we received news on short notice that an audience with His Holiness the Je Khenpo, the highest religious head of the country, would be possible. Such an opportunity is a great blessing. However, there was a restriction: Our entire travel group was simply too large for this spontaneous audience.
So we had to split up in Punakha. One part of the group drove directly on to Paro, while the other part drove to Thimphu, where His Holiness the Je Khenpo was staying at the time. I traveled with this group.
View of Thimphu with the Buddha Dordenma statue in the background
Thangton Dewachen Nunnery: Legacy of the Iron Bridge Monk
Arriving in Thimphu, we still had some time before the appointment. We visited the Thangton Dewachen Duthop Nunnery. It is the only one of its kind in the capital and goes back to the legendary Thangtong Gyalpo. He was a fascinating personality: A great Mahasiddha and at the same time an ingenious engineer who lived in the 15th century. He is famous as the “Iron Bridge Monk,” as he built dozens of suspension bridges made of iron chains throughout the Himalayas to allow pilgrims and travelers to cross raging rivers. Many of his constructions withstood the centuries. We were welcomed very warmly at this place: We were served tea in the courtyard of the monastery, and we could enjoy the peaceful atmosphere for a moment before we had to leave.
Visiting the Thangton Dewachen Duthop Nunnery
Kalachakra Initiation: Encounter with H.H. the Je Khenpo
After lunch, we made our way to the stadium. There, H.H. the Je Khenpo was leading the conclusion of the Kalachakra initiation. The crowds were immense. The stadium itself was packed to capacity, but that was far from enough. Countless people had also gathered on the grounds outside to partake in the event. It was a very impressive image. The ceremony was also being broadcast live on Bhutanese television. We initially had to wait before the gates until we were allowed into the stadium.
After some time, we were able to enter and were led to a separate waiting area inside the stadium. During this time, a chance but wonderful encounter occurred. We met the young Vairochana Rinpoche (Ngawang Jigme Jigten Wangchuk). He is a highly revered Tulku and the son of Her Royal Highness Princess Sonam Dechan Wangchuk. He is revered as the reincarnation of the great translator Vairochana from the 8th century, one of the most important disciples of Guru Padmasambhava.
Following this, we were granted an audience with H.H. the Je Khenpo. Filled with gratitude, we presented him with a Khata (white scarf) as a token of our deep respect. In this special setting, we also had the opportunity to present His Holiness with information regarding the ‘Holy Heavenly Lake Buddhist Town’ project. Each of us then received a personal blessing, and upon our departure, he presented us with a text of the Amitabha Sadhana for our own practice.
Our group after the audience with H.H. the Je Khenpo
After the meeting with the Je Khenpo, a further great honor was completely unexpectedly offered to us: Actually, we were supposed to meet the young Vairochana Rinpoche and the Queen Mother for an official audience afterwards. But when the Kalachakra initiation ended, thousands of people streamed out of the stadium at the same time. Traffic in Thimphu came to a complete standstill. There was no getting through, and we could not reach the agreed location in time. Such are the karmic conditions sometimes. But we did not quarrel with fate: After everything we had experienced that day and the blessing we were allowed to receive, we felt richly gifted.
The Tiger’s Nest: Ascent to Guru Rinpoche’s Cave
On the last day of our trip, November 15th, the arguably most famous landmark of Bhutan was on the agenda: Paro Taktsang, widely known as the Tiger’s Nest. It is not only architecturally deeply impressive, but one of the holiest sites in the entire Himalayas.
Paro Taktsang Monastery (Tiger’s Nest)
We set off very early to reach the base camp, the parking lot at 2,300 meters. From there, it is about 800 vertical meters up to the monastery, which sits at 3,120 meters. For visitors who do not quite trust themselves with the steep climb, there is generally the option to be carried by a horse or mule for the first part of the route. Our group, however, decided to cover the entire path on foot under our own power.
The ascent took just under three hours. The path is beautiful, but also demanding. It leads through a dense pine forest where rhododendrons grow and the trees are draped with moss. Again and again, prayer flags flutter in the wind. Halfway up, we took a short rest at a café. From there, you already have a first, breathtaking view of the monastery, which literally clings to the steep rock.
Impressions (in order): Resting horses at the starting point, fluttering prayer flags against the mountain backdrop, pack animals on the dusty trail, the first distant view of the cliffside monastery, the moss-covered mountain forest, and Tsa-Tsa offerings in a rock niche.
The history of this place is closely connected to Guru Rinpoche, the great Master Padmasambhava. He is revered by the Bhutanese as the “Second Buddha,” as he brought and firmly established Tantric Buddhism, the Vajrayana, in Bhutan in the 8th century. He manifested his supernatural powers and flew to this very spot on the back of a tigress to subdue a demon. Some say that the tigress was his tantric consort Yeshe Tsogyal in a transformed state. In the cave known as Taktsang Senge Samdup, around which the monastery was later built, he then meditated for exactly three years, three months, three weeks, and three days.
Once at the top, we had to hand in our cameras and bags at the entrance, as photography inside is strictly forbidden. We visited several small temples within the complex. In a special room that is guarded around the clock, I lit a butter lamp. This is the only place in the monastery where open fire is still permitted after a devastating fire destroyed large parts of the complex in the past. In Buddhism, lighting these lamps is a meritorious central ritual.
With Venerable Master Shi Zheng Da in front of the Taktsang Waterfall
Farewell in Paro: A Promise to Return
Back at the hotel in Paro, a special guest awaited us in the evening: Dasho Passang Dorji, the former Speaker of the National Assembly of Bhutan. He had been instrumental in organizing the official appointments and came by personally to apologize politely that the meeting with the King had not taken place due to the commotion. He promised us: “Next time I will arrange, this time the King and the Queen have been too busy.”
Exchange of gifts with Dasho Passang Dorji
In a very friendly atmosphere, an exchange of gifts took place. The Venerable Master Shi Zheng Da presented him with a special art object, a luminous three-dimensional picture of a Yun sculpture designed by H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III. In return, he gave the Master a large golden Shakyamuni Buddha statue. It was a worthy moment of connection.
Scenes from the performance (in order): The famous Drametse Ngacham (Dance of the Drums), a solo dancer bowing deep, the performers of the yak scene, the humorous interaction of the yak with the audience, the women’s dance group in red garments, and finally a traditional performance with bows and arrows combining song and dance.
Afterwards, we watched a cultural performance together with Dasho Passang Dorji. There were traditional dances and songs whose gentle, flowing movements radiated great calm and peace. There were also humorous interludes, like the dance of a yak, where the performers visibly had fun. Even though I did not understand the language, the joy was contagious. After this show, we all gathered for a large group photo to capture this beautiful final evening.
Our entire group with Dasho Passang Dorji and our guides
The next morning, November 16th, it was time to say goodbye. From the hotel, we could look directly at the airport. We had arrived to make a contribution with our donation and our plans. But as I boarded the plane now, I felt that we ourselves were taking away far more than we had given. I took with me not only memories of the mighty mountains and venerable monasteries, but the feeling of a deep connection with our travel group and the people in Bhutan. I return with much inspiration and a heart full of gratitude for the blessing I was allowed to experience in this country.
Created in 1993, Xing Garden at Mount Rili stands as a masterful expression of the artist’s profound understanding of nature and brushwork. The painting presents a dramatic world of steep cliffs and cascading water, inviting the viewer into a landscape that feels both monumental and intimate.
Dominated by vibrant greens, the work vividly captures moss and grasses spreading freely across rocky surfaces. These lush tones breathe life into the cliffs, softening their ruggedness while emphasizing the quiet vitality that thrives within seemingly harsh terrain. Nature here is not static; it pulses with energy and renewal.
The painting employs the refined “Miaoxie” (妙写) technique—a style that reveals its true depth through careful observation. At first glance, the composition appears fluid and effortless. Yet upon closer inspection, the brushstrokes intertwine like delicate wires, layered and interwoven with extraordinary precision. These subtle lines create constant movement and variation, generating emotional richness and visual intrigue through their complexity.
One of the most captivating aspects of this work lies in its masterful use of illusory watery ink, where solidity and transparency coexist. Ink seems to flow and dissolve at the same time, offering a boundless sense of depth and atmosphere. Whether viewed from afar or examined up close, the painting reveals a bottomless waterfall, rendered with meticulous detail yet infused with powerful momentum.
What is especially striking is the contrast between refinement and strength. From a distance, the scene appears serene and orderly; yet when the viewer studies the brushwork closely, the strokes reveal unexpected vigor and boldness. Within apparent emptiness, there is substance; within seeming chaos, there is profound order. This balance embodies the highest level of artistic cultivation.
Through free yet disciplined brushwork, the artist transforms a simple natural motif—a waterfall between two cliffs—into a scene of extraordinary aesthetic depth. The power of each stroke carries both physical strength and spiritual presence, allowing the painting to transcend mere representation and enter the realm of lived experience.
Xing Garden at Mount Rili is more than a landscape painting. It is a quiet dialogue between nature and the artist’s inner world, revealing how true mastery lies not in excess, but in the ability to uncover profound beauty within simplicity.
In 1991, deep in the Arizona desert, an unprecedented experiment quietly began—one that captured the imagination of the world and, in time, revealed a powerful lesson about humanity’s relationship with nature.
Eight people—four men and four women—were sealed inside a massive glass-and-steel structure known as Biosphere 2. Inside this enclosed world were recreated ecosystems meant to mirror Earth itself: a tropical rainforest, an ocean with coral reef, a desert, savanna, wetlands, farmland, and living quarters. For two full years, the inhabitants were to live completely self-sufficiently, growing their own food, recycling their air and water, and surviving without outside assistance.
The ambition was breathtaking. Biosphere 2 was envisioned as a blueprint for the future—an experiment to test whether humans could survive in closed ecosystems, potentially paving the way for space travel and the colonization of other planets. Behind this vision stood oil tycoon Edward Bass, who invested nearly $200 million into the project. It was, at once, a serious scientific endeavor and a meticulously choreographed public spectacle, drawing intense global attention from scientists, media, and the public alike.
Yet as the months passed, the experiment revealed something far more profound than plans for Mars.
Despite advanced engineering, cutting-edge technology, and idealistic human determination, the biosphere began to falter. Oxygen levels dropped unexpectedly. Crops failed. Certain species flourished too aggressively while others vanished. Tiny imbalances multiplied into serious problems. Even the soil—something often overlooked—absorbed oxygen in ways scientists had not fully anticipated.
What became clear was this: Earth’s ecological system is far more complex, delicate, and interconnected than human intelligence can fully replicate or control.
Biosphere 2 did not fail because of a lack of effort or intelligence. It faltered because nature is not a machine that can be perfectly engineered. It is a living, breathing system shaped by countless relationships that have evolved over billions of years. When humans attempt to dominate or redesign nature without deep humility, unforeseen consequences inevitably arise.
Looking back today, Biosphere 2 feels less like a rehearsal for escaping Earth and more like a gentle warning.
Rather than asking how we can leave this planet, perhaps the deeper question is how we can live more respectfully upon it. The experiment reminds us that technology, no matter how advanced, cannot replace the wisdom embedded in natural laws. Human ambition, when detached from reverence, can easily turn into overconfidence.
We are not masters of Earth—we are tenants.
To live well on this planet requires humility: listening to nature rather than overriding it, cooperating with ecological rhythms rather than forcing outcomes, and recognizing that every action ripples through an intricate web of life. True progress is not measured by how much we can control, but by how well we can coexist.
More than three decades later, Biosphere 2 still stands in the Arizona desert, now used for research and education. Its greatest contribution may not be scientific data alone, but the quiet reminder it offers to humanity:
Respect nature. Honor complexity. Live humbly. And follow the laws of the Earth that has always sustained us.
IAMA presents Be Your Own Spotlight by Yen’s Art Studio
Walking into Be Your Own Spotlight, presented by Yen’s Art Studio, at IAMA (The international Art Museum of America), I didn’t feel like I was entering a typical student art exhibition. Instead, it felt more like stepping into 150 honest conversations—each one visual, brave, and deeply personal.
The exhibition features 150 outstanding works by young students, created across a wide range of mediums—acrylic, watercolor, pencil, and mixed media. But what moved me most was not the variety of techniques; it was the sense that every piece quietly declared: this is who I am right now.
These students are not just learning how to paint or draw. They are learning how to trust their voices, how to take up space, and how to stand behind what they create. Their works reflect growth, self-discovery, and the joy—and sometimes uncertainty—of becoming. Whether you are a parent, an educator, a collector, or simply someone searching for inspiration, this exhibition offers something meaningful to feel, not just something pleasant to see.
As I moved through the gallery, I was delighted by the sheer range of imagination: striking portraits, fantastical worlds, playful animals in sunglasses, thoughtful reflections on global issues, and moments of pure joy. The diversity of themes reminded me of a beautiful truth that Yen’s Art Studio expresses so well: “In the world of art, there are no boundaries of age or race. Children’s artwork can reach—and sometimes surpass—the technical ability and creative understanding typically associated with adults.”
One piece that stayed with me was a self-portrait by 8th-grade student Cynthia Liu. It stood out not only for its technical sensitivity, but for its emotional depth. Cynthia is known for her perfectionist nature, something many of us—artists or not—can relate to. Her work quietly reflects a universal truth: no artwork is ever truly finished. Without a clear endpoint, a piece can be revised endlessly, sometimes at the cost of the original vision.
Self-Portrait by Cynthia Liu, 8th grade Yen’s Art Studio
Hanni from Newjeans by Sophie Sun, 9th grade. Yen’s Art Studio
Another story that deeply touched me was Sophie’s. Once a shy student who nearly gave up on art altogether, she found her way back through the creative process at the studio. Through painting, Sophie rediscovered calmness, confidence, and inner strength—one of the most meaningful transformations I learned about in this exhibition. Her journey reflects the studio’s commitment not only to technical excellence, but to nurturing the inner lives of its students.
Lovers by Nova Cui, 9th grade Yen’s Art Studio
Among the more than 150 works, one painting stood out to me for its quiet presence rather than immediate visual impact. Created by Nova, a student dedicated to becoming a professional ballet dancer, the piece carries a sense of discipline, restraint, and inner resolve. Acknowledging the intensity of her dance training, her art education focused less on technical display and more on observation, sensitivity, and emotional understanding.
Her painting reveals genuine emotion and determination, qualities she will undoubtedly carry into her future as a dancer, where movement and art meet as a shared language of expression.
Be Your Own Spotlight is ultimately not just about showcasing talent. It is about honoring courage—especially the quiet kind. It reminds us that every young artist is learning not only how to create, but how to believe in themselves. And as viewers, we are fortunate to witness these moments of bravery, growth, and becoming.
Don’t miss the museum’s permanent exhibition, where world-class artworks offer far more than visual beauty. Here, art becomes a quiet refuge—inviting tranquility, reflection, and a subtle elevation of the spirit. Especially moving are the paintings by H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III, whose works gently awaken the mind, soothe the heart, and leave the soul deeply inspired long after you depart.
The highest point of the leg: The Dochu La pass at 3,100 meters
By Gongjue Tuji
With many impressions from Thimphu and a feeling of gratitude, we continued our pilgrimage. Before leaving the busy capital behind for good to drive deeper into the mountains, however, we spent another day in its surroundings. After all, Bhutan is not only defined by its holy temples and deeply rooted Buddhism. The landscape itself also holds enormous power. We were looking forward to traveling to places where the country’s history and the powerful nature form a very special unity.
Semtokha Dzong: The Palace of Secret Mantras
On the third day, our path first led us about six kilometers south of Thimphu to Semtokha Dzong. This place also bears the meaningful name “Sangak Zabdhon Phodrang,” which translates to “Palace of the Profound Meaning of Secret Mantras.”
Semtokha Dzong
Historically, this is a milestone: The Dzong was built between 1629 and 1632 by Shabdrung Ngawang Namgyal, the legendary unifier of Bhutan. He introduced something completely new here, namely the combination of a monastery and an administrative center under one roof. This innovative concept worked so well that it later became the model for all other major fortresses in the country, such as in Paro or Punakha. This historical significance mixed with a very present joy on the day of our visit. Since the entire country was honoring the fourth King’s birthday, a particularly festive mood could be felt everywhere.
But something else left a deep impression on me. In the temple rooms, the distinct scent of butter lamps hung in the air. It is a very unique smell that we would encounter again and again at other places, and which for me is now inseparably linked to the atmosphere of these holy sites.
Impressions (in order): View into the courtyard, the magnificent entrance area, water bowls as offerings, the corridor with prayer wheels, myself inside, and our group on the entrance stairs.
Takin Preserve: The Creation of Drukpa Kunley
Bhutan is deeply rooted in its spiritual traditions, where the power of the Dharma also manifests in nature. We visited the Royal Preserve to see the national animal: the Takin. It is a fascinating creature, unique to the Himalayas, with an appearance that resembles a cross between a cow and a goat.
Its existence traces directly back to the miraculous activity of Drukpa Kunley, also known as the “Divine Madman.” In the 15th century, people asked him to perform a miracle to prove his realization. He requested to be served a cow and a goat. After consuming both, he placed the goat’s head upon the cow’s skeleton. With his supernatural powers, he brought this new being to life. This event stands as a powerful testament to the Master’s unconventional teaching methods and his ability to act beyond ordinary concepts.
Impressions (in order): The spacious forest area of the preserve, a resting Takin in the shade, and an animal by the stream.
Dochu La: Commemoration at the 108 Chortens
On the fourth day, we left the capital heading towards Punakha. The road led us over the Dochu La, a pass at an altitude of about 3,100 meters. Although a few clouds obscured the view of the very big ice giants of the Himalayas, gaps opened up again and again, through which we could see the snow-covered peaks.
The 108 Druk Wangyal Chortens against the backdrop of the Himalayas
Up on the pass stand the 108 Druk Wangyal Chortens. They are an important place of remembrance. They were not built to celebrate a military victory in 2003, but to commemorate the fallen. It is characteristic of the culture here that triumph is not put in the foreground, but rather compassion and remembrance.
Chimi Lhakhang: The Legacy of Drukpa Kunley
In the Punakha district, the legacy of the “Divine Madman,” Drukpa Kunley, is ever-present. Even in the surrounding villages, we noticed the many houses painted with phallic symbols. What may initially seem unusual to foreign eyes is regarded here as a powerful symbol of protection.
View into the Punakha Valley
Our next destination was Chimi Lhakhang. The path there leads very picturesquely right through green rice fields. The temple itself stands exactly at the spot where the great master Drukpa Kunley manifested his power to subdue a demon that had taken the form of a dog. He did so with his “flaming thunderbolt of wisdom.” This also explains the paintings on the houses, as they represent this victorious thunderbolt. At the place of this subjugation, a small black stupa still stands today. Also, statues of the master can often be recognized by a dog lying at his feet. Today, the place is mainly known as the Temple of Fertility, to which couples from all over the world make pilgrimages. We used the peaceful atmosphere there to chant together under a large Bodhi tree in front of the temple.
Impressionen (der Reihe nach): Der Chimi Lhakhang Tempel mit der schwarzen Stupa, eine schlafende Tempelkatze, junge Mönche beim Üben der Dharma-Instrumente und unsere Gruppe beim gemeinsamen Chanten unter dem großen Bodhi-Baum.
Punakha Dzong: Palace of Great Bliss
Afterwards, we continued to Punakha Dzong. It is situated very picturesquely right where the Pho Chhu (Father River) and the Mo Chhu (Mother River) meet. Its full name is Pungtang Dechen Photrang Dzong, which translates to “Palace of Great Happiness.” The building is not only huge but also historically of enormous importance. It was built as early as 1637 and for a long time formed the center of the then winter capital Punakha.
Punakha Dzong
Even today, the monastic community moves here during the cold months. Moreover, it is a historic place for the monarchy, as the first King of Bhutan was crowned here in 1907. Inside rest the mortal remains of the state founder Shabdrung Ngawang Namgyal. However, this area is strictly protected. Only the King and the Je Khenpo, as well as two guardian lamas, are allowed to enter the room with the relics.
Impressions (in order): Conversations in front of white walls, roosters on the intricate roof ledge, and the entrance to the sacred temple area (Machen Lhakhang), where the relics of the state founder are kept.
Wangdue Phodrang: Rebuilding a Landmark
In the morning of the next day, we stopped at Wangdue Phodrang Dzong. This place has a moving history. It was founded in 1638 by Shabdrung Ngawang Namgyal under the auspicious name “Palace of the Four Cardinal Directions.” It sits strategically on a ridge that resembles a sleeping elephant and overlooks the confluence of two rivers.
Wangdue Phodrang Dzong
For a long time, it was considered the only Dzong that had never fallen victim to a fire in its almost 400-year history. But on June 24, 2012, fate struck: A technical defect triggered a fire in the early morning, and fueled by strong winds, the proud fortress burned out completely within a few hours.
But what we saw was not a place of mourning, but of hope. The reconstruction, which began in 2014, is an impressive testament to Bhutanese unity, but also to the deep friendship with neighboring India. Through close cooperation and generous support from India, this massive project could be realized. It wonderfully shows how modern engineering and cross-border solidarity are used not only to preserve traditional culture but to literally let it rise anew from the ashes.
Impressions (in order): Intricate carvings at the portal, colorful wall murals of guardian deities, the spacious courtyard, a monk at the staircase, and our group photo in front of the Dzong.
Drive through the Black Mountains
With this image of a new beginning in mind, we continued our journey towards the Phobjikha Valley. The drive was scenically very impressive. Our bus wound its way up the Black Mountains curve after curve. We had perfect weather. The sun was shining and allowed us a clear view that reached further with every meter of altitude. The road snaked along the partly steep mountain slopes in tight serpentines until we crossed the pass and finally drove down into the valley.
Phobjikha Valley: Winter Home of the Black-Necked Cranes
The Phobjikha Valley is a very special retreat. It serves as the wintering ground for the rare Black-necked Cranes from Tibet. There is a nice observation about this. When the birds arrive, they circle the local Gangtey Monastery three times. And apparently, they do the same when they leave again. Even the animals seem to have a connection to the Dharma here. We were lucky and some of us saw the first cranes that had already arrived.
Phobjikha-Tal
Our lunch was organized for us in an open field right in front of Khewang Lhakhang. We enjoyed it with a wide view into the valley. Afterwards, we visited the temple itself. Inside are still the original statues, which at a good 500 years old are as ancient as the building itself. One of these statues is particularly well-known, as it is said to have spoken twice already.
Khewang Lhakhang
I especially remember the story that’s connected to this place: A demon had taken the form of a young woman to deceive a young man. When the man died, the demon wanted to bring the body into the temple. But the Buddha statue spoke and denied him entry. The demon had to move on and was finally defeated by the deceased’s real girlfriend. A small stupa still stands at this spot today. Such events are not just fairy tales here; they are part of the living spiritual landscape.
Gangtey Goenpa: Spiritual Center of the Nyingmapa
The crowning conclusion of this day was Gangtey Goenpa. It sits on a ridge above the valley and is far more than just a beautiful building. It is the largest and most important Nyingmapa monastery in western central Bhutan and is considered the spiritual heart of the entire region.
The history of this place goes back a long way and begins with a vision. The great “Treasure Finder” (Terton) Pema Lingpa visited the valley in the late 15th century. He looked at the ridge and prophesied that one of his descendants would build a monastery there one day. This prophecy was fulfilled in 1613 when his grandson Rigdzin Pema Thinley founded the monastery.
Gangtey Goenpa
Architecturally, it is fascinating. At first glance, it looks like a Dzong, meaning one of the mighty fortresses we had seen before. But if you look closely, you notice a crucial difference. The military elements are missing. There are no arrow slits and no defensive walls. It was designed purely as a place of peace and practice. I was particularly impressed by the elaborate wood carvings visible everywhere, testifying to the high level of craftsmanship.
Impressions (in order): Wall mural of Dharmapala Gyalpo Pehar in the entrance area, the view up to the intricate wooden architecture, and the sunny courtyard.
Today, the monastery is a very lively place and acts as the seat of the Pema Lingpa tradition as well as the seat of the master’s ninth reincarnation. About 140 monks live here. Together with the nearby Shedra, the Buddhist college, they ensure that the teaching is not only preserved here but actively studied and lived.
I had a special experience inside the temple. We had gone in to pay our respects to the Buddhas and chant together. Scarcely had we entered the hall when the power went out and it became pitch dark instantly. In the light of our phones, we looked for a place to sit. For about ten minutes, we chanted in this darkness, illuminated only by the faint flickering of a few butter lamps. That created a very unique mood. Suddenly the light came back on. Only at that moment did I see what was directly on the wall opposite me. My gaze fell on a beautiful mural of the 21 Taras. That was an unexpected and deeply moving moment for me.
Actually, we had a specific hope in our hearts for our return to Thimphu and Paro: We wanted to try to get an audience with the King. But as so often in life, plans do not always go in a straight line. Karmic conditions had intended another encounter for us, which we had not expected in this way.
I will tell you about that and our ascent to the famous Tiger’s Nest in the next part.
About Author: Gongjue Tuji
As a committed Buddhist and initiator of the Xuanfa Dharmazentrum, Gongjue Tuji has made it his mission to help other people integrate the teachings of Buddhism into their daily lives. In this blog, he regularly provides insights into his experiences, current news and highlights fascinating aspects of the Buddha-Dharma.
Siler City, NC – On Wednesday evening the “Walk for Peace” monks stopped for the day at Jordan-Matthews High School. This was an opportunity for one of the monks to speak to the crowd gathered at the football here. Below is a summary of the lessons he hoped to teach.
We fight a battle every day, but the enemy isn’t external. It’s the relentless hum of our own minds—the constant wandering to past regrets and future anxieties, the endless scroll of digital distractions, and the crushing pressure to always be doing more. In this unwinnable war for a quiet mind, we often feel like we’re losing ground.
But what if the pursuit of peace wasn’t an epic battle at all? What if it was simply a series of small, counter-intuitive shifts in perspective? In a recent talk, a monk shared a path to peace that doesn’t require struggle, but instead invites awareness and acceptance. This post shares the four most surprising and impactful lessons from that talk—practical wisdom that can be applied to your life, starting right now.
1. To Connect With Your Kids, Stop Trying to Fix Them
As parents, our deepest instinct is to protect and guide. We want the best for our children, so we try to fix their mistakes and teach them the “right” way. But the monk pointed out a painful paradox: the more we try to “fix” or “change” them, the more we inadvertently build a “war” between us, pushing them further away.
His surprising solution was to shift our role entirely: stop trying to teach and start sharing. By approaching a child as a friend, we transform the dynamic from a top-down lecture into a shared conversation. This shift is the key to getting them to listen, and more profoundly, it creates the safety for the ultimate connection. The monk explained that when children see you as a friend, “whenever obstacle when they run into trouble they will come back to you and lean on your shoulder and cry and ask for help… that is when your chance come to teach them.”
unless you make friend with them you see them as your friends not mother not the father but a friend A friends means the different way of talk, different way of teaching, sharing… and that is when they listen.
In a world of high-pressure, achievement-oriented parenting, this advice is a radical act of trust. It asks us to let go of micromanagement and have faith that building a foundation of friendship is the most effective way to stay connected, especially when our kids are more influenced by peers and technology than ever before.
2. The Enemy of Peace Isn’t Chaos—It’s Multitasking
The monk observed that in our modern world, a distracted, wandering mind has become the “normal” condition. Very few people, he noted, can truly focus. He then offered a memorable metaphor for the primary source of this distraction: our smartphones.
And now that we all all have our lovers along with us every single second, you know who is your lover is your cellphone…
His solution is profoundly simple yet radically counter-cultural: stop multitasking. He framed this not as a mere productivity hack, but as the fundamental practice for purifying the mind. Without concentration on a single task, he explained, there can be no real peace.
This advice directly challenges the modern glorification of being busy. We multitask because we treat busyness as a proxy for importance and self-worth. To single-task is therefore an act of rebellion against the “cult of productivity.” It’s a way to reclaim our presence and discover that true effectiveness and inner calm are found not in doing more, but in giving our full attention to one thing at a time. This practice of single-pointed concentration is the very tool we need for the next lesson: dealing with the internal chaos of our own minds.
3. Don’t Fight Your Anxious Thoughts. Just Look at Them.
When we try to find a moment of quiet, the mind inevitably rebels. Thoughts of the past and worries about the future “pop up” and disrupt our focus. But the monk’s wisdom extends beyond just anxious thoughts—it applies to every distraction, internal and external. The itch on your nose, the sound of a distant siren, a sudden memory—our common reaction is to fight these intrusions and scold ourselves for getting distracted.
The monk’s instruction is to do the exact opposite. The goal is not to create a blank, empty mind. The practice is to simply add awareness to your breath, and when any thought, sound, or physical sensation appears, you acknowledge it without judgment. You observe it for a moment, and then gently guide your attention back to your breathing.
When that thought pop up, instead of trying to eliminate or push it away, just acknowledge it, observe that thought and then come back to this breathing.
He warned that this requires immense patience because “we will fail over and over.” This insight is liberating. It reframes “failure” as a completely normal and expected part of the process. Each time you notice your mind has wandered and you gently bring it back, you are succeeding.
4. Learn to Shed Your Leaves Like a Tree
To illustrate the art of letting go, the monk shared a powerful analogy from nature. In the autumn, trees shed their leaves. They don’t do this because they are weak; they do it as a brilliant survival strategy to conserve energy through the winter, preparing for new growth in the spring.
He explained that humans, however, often do the opposite. We spend our lives collecting and holding onto our mental “trash”—bad habits, unhappy memories, stress, and anxiety. We cling to these dead leaves until we are completely overwhelmed by their weight.
We have collected all kind of trash in our mind. Bad habit, unhappy thing, undesirable, all those things happening in our life that we suffered. We collected it so many and we recorded in here and we didn’t know how to let it go. We don’t know how to shut it off just like those trees.
This metaphor recasts “letting go” not as a passive act of giving up, but as an active, wise process of conserving our vital energy. In a world facing an epidemic of burnout, this lesson becomes a crucial survival strategy. It teaches us to release what no longer serves us in order to preserve our strength for what truly matters—for the new growth that awaits.
Peace is a Practice, Not a Destination
The war for a quiet mind ends the moment you stop fighting. As the monk’s lessons reveal, peace is not a distant state you arrive at, but the result of small, conscious actions. It’s found in the choice to single-task, the gentle observation of a thought, and the courage to let go of control—both in our own minds and in our relationships. Becoming a friend to our children and a non-judgmental observer of our thoughts are both practices in releasing the need to fix everything. Single-tasking is the foundation that makes this awareness possible.
He offered a simple starting point: each morning, write down the statement, “Today is going to be my peaceful day,” and live with that intention. But he also added a note of urgency. Many of us say we will do it “later,” but, as he warned, “that later that moment never comes.”
Don’t wait. Peace is a daily practice, and the work begins now. Looking at the “leaves” you’ve been carrying, what is just one you can choose to let go of today?
Peace LiLy 