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.
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.
Recently, I watched a short video that stayed with me far longer than I expected.
The scene took place in a small shop in Pakistan. A robber walked in, grabbed money and a phone, and prepared to leave. Sitting beside the shop owner was a little girl. She looked at the robber calmly, without screaming or hiding, and gently offered him the lollipop she was holding.
For a brief moment, everything seemed to stop.
The robber froze. He looked at the child, then slowly put the money and phone back down. Before leaving, he leaned over and kissed her on the forehead.
I don’t know whether the girl acted out of fear, nervousness, or pure instinct. But her simple, innocent gesture touched something deeply human in him. Perhaps, in that fleeting moment, his life took a different turn.
What moved me most was this realization: Even those who appear hardened or dangerous may still carry a seed of kindness within them. And sometimes, it only takes the smallest act to awaken it.
A single lollipop opened a door in the human heart.
Lately, I’ve been noticing more and more of these quiet sparks of goodness appearing around the world.
In the United States, a group of Buddhist monks has been walking on foot, praying for peace. Without slogans or confrontation, they offer presence, humility, and sincerity. Their journey has inspired many people to reflect on peace in a deeper way, and countless strangers have stepped forward to support them.
Guided by the teachings of Namo Dorje Chang Buddha III, and with deep respect for the great mercy and loving-kindness through which Buddhas and Bodhisattvas benefit all living beings, the World Buddhism Association Headquarters (W.B.A.H.), Holy Miracles Temple (at Pasadena CA) and Sanger Mission sincerely to carry out Charitable Acts to Benefit Our Community Together: 2026 Food and Goods Drive, to collectively plant goodness. All donations will be sent to support local food banks, homeless shelters, and animal shelters in the Los Angeles area.
I also read about Jon Stewart, who announced an extraordinary donation of $116 million to help address homelessness across the United States—providing housing and dignity to people who have long been forgotten by society. It was a reminder that compassion, when paired with courage, can bring real and lasting change.
And then there is the story that expanded my sense of hope even further.
Johan Eliasch, a Swedish billionaire, acquired approximately 400,000 acres of the Amazon rainforest by purchasing the company that held its logging rights. Instead of continuing operations for profit, he immediately halted all logging activities.
Just like that, the chainsaws stopped.
That vast stretch of forest was allowed to remain intact—continuing to absorb carbon, protect biodiversity, and sustain one of the planet’s most vital ecosystems. His action demonstrated something profound: that private ownership, when guided by conscience, can become a powerful force for environmental protection.
This act of kindness may not be immediately seen by everyone, yet it will have a profound impact on the Earth’s ecological balance—and it is, in its own quiet way, safeguarding a future our children and grandchildren will still be able to breathe in.
From a child offering a lollipop… to a monk walking for peace… to a philanthropist sheltering the homeless… to a forest saved from destruction—
These acts may differ in scale, but they arise from the same source: the human longing to protect, to heal, and to do what is right.
In Buddhist teachings, compassion is not passive emotion—it is action. It is wisdom expressed through kindness.
As a new year begins, I sincerely hope we will witness more of these compassionate and righteous choices—choices that quietly warm the world.
May we walk together, letting kindness extinguish the fires of war, allowing love to dissolve hatred and conflict, and using compassion to heal sorrow, fear, and pain.
The world does not change all at once. But every gentle act—no matter how small—adds light.
And sometimes, that light begins with something as simple as a child’s open hand.
Long ago, deep in the mountains, there lived a Zen master named Wuguo（无果）, a practitioner wholly devoted to meditation. For more than twenty years, he was supported by a humble mother and daughter who offered him food and daily necessities so he could cultivate the Way without distraction.
As the years passed, Master Wuguo reflected deeply on his practice. Although he had dedicated his life to meditation, he felt he had not yet realized his true nature. A quiet fear arose in his heart: If I have not awakened, how can I truly repay the kindness of these offerings?
Determined to resolve the great matter of life and death, he decided to leave the mountain to seek instruction from other masters.
When the mother and daughter heard of his departure, they asked him to stay a few more days. They wished to sew him a monastic robe for his journey. At home, the two women worked carefully, chanting the name of Amitabha Buddha with every stitch, their hearts filled with sincerity. When the robe was finished, they also wrapped four silver ingots to serve as his travel funds.
Master Wuguo accepted their offerings and prepared to leave the next morning.
That night, as he sat quietly in meditation, a vision appeared. A young man dressed in blue stood before him, holding a banner. Behind him came a procession playing music and carrying a magnificent lotus flower.
“Zen Master,” the youth said, “please ascend the Lotus Seat.”
Master Wuguo remained calm. He reflected inwardly: I am a Zen practitioner, cultivating meditative concentration. I have not practiced the Pure Land path. I should not become attached to visions. Even for a Pure Land practitioner, such an experience could be a delusion.
He ignored the vision.
Yet the youth returned again and again, urging him earnestly not to miss this rare opportunity. Finally, Master Wuguo picked up his small hand-bell (yinqing) and placed it on the lotus seat. Soon after, the youth and the entire procession vanished.
The next morning, as Master Wuguo prepared to depart, the mother and daughter hurried toward him in distress. Holding the hand-bell, they asked anxiously:
“Master, is this yours? Something very strange happened last night. Our mare gave birth to a stillborn foal. When the groom cut it open, he found this bell inside. We recognized it immediately and rushed to return it—but we cannot understand how it came from a horse’s belly.”
Upon hearing this, Master Wuguo broke into a cold sweat. Deeply shaken, he composed a verse:
One monastic robe, one sheet of hide; Four silver ingots, four hooves inside. Had this old monk lacked the power of Zen, Your stable is where I would have been.
In that moment, he clearly understood the law of cause and effect. By accepting the robe and the silver, he had created a karmic debt. Had his mind been even slightly attached—to the vision, to the offerings, or to the idea of reward—he would have been reborn as a horse in that very household, laboring to repay what he had received.
Immediately, Master Wuguo returned the robe and the silver to the women and departed.
Because he did not cling to extraordinary visions, he escaped rebirth in the animal realm. An ordinary person, upon encountering such sights, would have grasped at them, fallen into delusion, and continued revolving in the cycle of rebirth.
This story reveals a profound truth: the realms are not distant places—they arise from the mind itself.
When the mind dwells in craving and greed, it becomes the realm of the Hungry Ghosts, endlessly desiring yet never satisfied. When the mind dwells in anger and resentment, it becomes the Asura realm, filled with conflict and struggle. When the mind is clouded by ignorance and confusion, it sinks into the Animal realm, driven by instinct and karmic habit.
In our daily lives, we often fixate on external things—lust, fame, wealth, comfort, indulgence—believing we cannot live without them. Yet we fail to see that all phenomena arise from causes and conditions. When conditions gather, things appear; when conditions disperse, they vanish. None possess a fixed or permanent essence.
Reflect carefully: Is there anything in this world we can truly hold onto forever?
Since nothing produced by conditions can be owned, lasting happiness cannot be found through possession or attachment. True happiness arises from non-attachment, from seeking nothing and clinging to nothing. When the mind releases its grasp, it becomes light, clear, and free.
So we may ask ourselves:
Can we remain at peace amid changing emotions? Can we stay calm in the face of conflict? Can we remain unmoved by fame and profit? And when the moment of death arrives, can our mind remain clear and mindful?
The law of cause and effect never errs. What we cultivate in the mind today shapes the world we inhabit tomorrow.
In the middle of a storm, most people look for shelter. But a rare few choose to stand in the rain to keep someone else’s home from washing away.
In 1942, the United States was a place of fear and suspicion. Following the attack on Pearl Harbor, Executive Order 9066 forced thousands of Japanese-American citizens into internment camps. They were given just days to pack what they could carry, leaving behind their businesses, their homes, and their life’s work.
In Florin, California, most people looked away as their neighbors were taken. But an agricultural inspector named Bob Fletcher did something different. He stepped forward.
Note 1
Bob Fletcher was 31 years old when his neighbors—the Tsukamoto, Nitta, and Okamoto families—were ordered to leave. They were strawberry and grape farmers who faced losing everything to foreclosure.
They asked Bob if he would manage their farms while they were gone. Bob didn’t just say yes; he quit his stable job with the state to become a full-time farmer for people who weren’t even allowed to be there.
For three years, Bob worked 18-hour days. He managed 90 acres of flame tokay grapes across three different farms.
The Cost of Doing the Right Thing
Doing the “right thing” is rarely easy. Bob wasn’t seen as a hero by his community at the time. He was called names, shunned by neighbors, and at one point, someone even fired a shot into the barn where he was working.
But Bob had a quiet, iron-clad integrity. He lived in the migrant bunkhouses rather than the families’ main homes. He paid their mortgages, their taxes, and their bills. When the families finally returned in 1945, they didn’t return to ruins—they returned to thriving farms and a bank account full of the profits Bob had saved for them.
Bob Fletcher lived to be 101 years old. For decades, he deflected praise, often saying:
“I don’t know about being a hero. I just did what I thought was right.”
His life leaves us with enduring lessons:
Integrity is a verb. It is not what we believe in private, but what we practice when no one is watching—and when it costs us something.
One person is enough. Bob couldn’t stop a national injustice, but he saved three families. Sometimes protecting one corner of the world is exactly what we are called to do.
Moral courage is quiet. It doesn’t announce itself. Sometimes it looks like long days, dirty hands, and the refusal to surrender compassion to fear.
We may not be living through a world war, but we all face moments where it is easier to go along with the crowd than to stand up for a neighbor. Bob Fletcher’s life asks us: Who are we looking out for? What are we willing to protect?
At the invitation of Rev. Chandima of the Sri Lanka Cultural and Educational Foundation, members of Buddhist Town joined a delegation to Bhutan to participate in the Global Peace Festival, held in celebration of the 70th birthday of the Fourth King of Bhutan. The trip was co-organized by the Buddhist Town Community Association, with participating organizations including Fa Chan Temple, Macang Yuan, Holy Vajrasana Temple, and the Canadian Institute of Buddhist Studies, among others. In total, 68 representatives took part in this meaningful event.
As part of the visit, the delegation donated 500 sets of essential baby supplies, offering prayers for happiness, health, and well-being for every family. The donation ceremony was attended by the Director of Bhutan’s Ministry of Health, who officially received the supplies. Following the ceremony, the donated items were distributed on-site to pregnant women and mothers with newborns by members of the delegation.
The delegation jointly sponsored the offering of 3,000 butter lamps and respectfully invited Master Shin Zhengda Jaozun to preside over the 3,000 Butter Lamp Offering Ceremony at Kyichu Lhakhang, one of the oldest temples in Paro. The prayers were dedicated to world peace, the removal of obstacles, the averting of disasters, and the flourishing and propagation of the True Buddha Dharma.
Kyichu Lhakhang is one of the 108 demon-subduing temples built by King Songtsen Gampo. Established in 638 CE, it stands as one of Bhutan’s most sacred and historically significant temples.
Dasho Passang Dorji, former Speaker of the National Assembly of Bhutan, formally welcomed the Buddhist Town delegation at Paro International Airport. Following the reception, the delegation embarked on an inspiring journey to visit sacred sites associated with Guru Padmasambhava and to learn how Zhabdrung Rinpoche further propagated and established Guru Padmasambhava’s lineage teachings throughout Bhutan.
During the journey, the delegation visited many major temples and sacred sites, including the Buddha Dordenma in Thimphu (21st century), Punakha Dzong (17th century), the Druk Wangyal Chortens—also known as the 108 Stupas (21st century), Chimi Lhakhang (15th century), Khewang Lhakhang (15th century), and Gangtey Monastery (17th century), among others.
The final highlight of the journey was the ascent to the legendary Taktsang Monastery (8th century), dramatically perched at an elevation of 3,100 meters above sea level. According to tradition, Guru Padmasambhava flew to this sacred site, where he subdued negative forces and later spread Buddhism throughout Bhutan, becoming the foundational figure of Bhutanese Buddhism.
With an elevation gain of more than 900 meters and steep mountain trails, the pilgrimage requires a 7–8 hour round-trip hike. Throughout the journey—visiting sacred sites, receiving blessings, paying homage to the Buddhas, and experiencing deep spiritual inspiration—the delegation was filled with immeasurable Dharma joy and boundless gratitude.
At every point along the path, it felt as though the land itself was gently reminding the delegation that all worldly phenomena are impermanent and ever-changing, and that only the true Dharma of the Buddha remains eternally unchanged.
The Buddhist monks from the Huong Dao Vipassana Bhavana Center in Fort Worth, who are undertaking a 2,300 mile pilgrimage of Walk for Peace, arrive for a welcome ceremony at Hong Kong City Mall in Houston Friday, Nov. 14, 2025. Houston Chronicle/Hearst Newspapers via Getty Images
In a world that often feels rushed, divided, and relentlessly loud, there is something quietly revolutionary about the act of walking.
Recently, a group of Buddhist monks began a long, demanding pilgrimage across the United States. Their mission is simple yet profound: to promote peace. Their journey began in Fort Worth, Texas, on October 26. Since then, they have faced the literal “wear and tear” of the road, including a harrowing incident where two monks were injured after a truck struck their escort vehicle.
Yet, they did not stop.
With perseverance and a calm, unshakable resolve, the group of two dozen monks has reached Georgia. They are still moving, one step at a time, toward their final destination in Washington, D.C. Their pace is slow, deliberate, and intentional—and that may be exactly what our world needs right now.
Buddhism has a long history of “engaged mindfulness”—the idea that compassion isn’t just felt in meditation, but lived in the world. These monks are not just praying for peace; they are embodying it.
As they navigate highways and back roads, they offer a living reminder that peace isn’t a destination we reach once and for all. It is a practice. It is something we choose moment by moment, breath by breath, step by step.
Watching their progress brings me back to a book I read nearly 30 years ago: Peace Pilgrim.
I remember being deeply moved by her story—how she walked across countries carrying almost nothing, guided by the conviction that peace begins within the individual. At the time, I wished I could have met her in person, just to thank her for the way her simplicity and courage planted a seed in my heart.
Though she is gone, her spirit feels remarkably present today. I see her legacy in the orange robes of these monks as they crest the hills of the American South.
Monks rest at Hong Kong City Mall in Houston Friday, Nov. 14, 2025. Melissa Phillip/Houston Chronicle via Getty Images
Igniting Kindness, One Heart at a Time
There is something profoundly moving about a walking pilgrimage in the age of instant communication. There are no hashtags here. No viral outrage. Just human beings placing one foot in front of the other, trusting that their presence alone can soften the world.
And it works.
Along the way, the “ordinary” world reacts. Drivers slow down. Strangers stop to ask questions. People offer water, a meal, or a simple smile. In these small, unscripted exchanges, something gentle is awakened. We are reminded that beneath our political and social differences, we all share a basic human longing for safety, understanding, and harmony.
The monks may be the ones doing the walking, but the kindness they ignite along the way belongs to all of us. As they recently shared on their Facebook page:
“We do not walk alone. We walk together with every person whose heart has opened to peace, whose spirit has chosen kindness, whose daily life has become a garden where understanding grows.”
A group of Buddhist Monks and several hundred local community members take part in the Walk for Peace in Montgomery, Ala., on Tuesday December 23, 2025. The Monks are walking from Texas to Washington, D.C. to promote peace and compassion.
Most of us cannot drop everything to walk across a continent. But all of us can “walk for peace” in the geography of our own lives.
We can pause before we react in anger.
We can choose compassion over the reflex of judgment.
We can listen more deeply than we speak.
Watching these monks continue their journey despite injury and uncertainty reminds me that peace isn’t achieved through grand, sweeping gestures. It is built patiently through humility and love.
Step by step.
May their walk remind us to slow down, to soften our hearts, and to keep moving—together—toward a more peaceful world.
In the southwestern suburbs of Xining, where the air grows thin and the spirit grows light, stands one of the most significant sites in the Buddhist world: Kumbum Monastery.
Known in Tibetan as Kumbum Jampa Ling, meaning “A Supreme Temple of a Hundred Thousand Lion’s Roar Buddha Images,” this sprawling complex is far more than just a collection of buildings. It is a living monument to Lama Tsongkhapa, the revered founder of the Gelug (Yellow Hat) sect of Tibetan Buddhism.
The Legend of the Golden Tree
Unlike many temples built to house statues, Kumbum was built to house a pagoda.
Legend tells us that Tsongkhapa was born here in 1357. When his mother cut his umbilical cord, drops of blood fell to the earth, and from that spot grew a miraculous sandalwood tree—the “Tree of Great Merit.” It is said this tree had 100,000 leaves, each bearing a natural image of the Buddha.
Years later, when Tsongkhapa was studying in Tibet, his mother sent a letter begging him to return. He replied that he could not leave his studies, but sent a self-portrait and a “Lion’s Roar” image, instructing her to build a pagoda over his birthplace. “Seeing this pagoda,” he promised, “is the same as seeing me.” In 1379, the Julian Pagoda was built, forming the sacred heart of what would become Kumbum Monastery.
Kumbum is world-renowned for its harmonious blend of traditional Tibetan and Chinese Han architectural styles.
1. The Eight Pagodas of Buddha Shakyamuni
Greeting visitors in the front square are eight gleaming white pagodas. Built in 1776, they commemorate the eight great merits and virtues of Buddha Shakyamuni. Each stands 6.4 meters tall, decorated with delicate Sanskrit scriptures and guardian lions, serving as a powerful symbol of the monastery’s spiritual authority.
2. The Grand Golden Tiled Hall
This is the soul of the monastery. With its gilded copper roof and emerald glazed-tile walls, the hall radiates a celestial glow. Inside, you will find an 11-meter-tall golden tower wrapped in white sandalwood and encrusted with jewels. At its peak sits a statue of Tsongkhapa. For pilgrims, meeting this tower is considered a direct meeting with the Master himself.
3. The Main Assembly Hall
Spanning nearly 2,000 square meters, this is the center of monastic life. Under a flat roof adorned with gilded bronze bells and “Aquarius” vases, hundreds of monks gather to recite sutras. The interior is a sensory masterpiece of colorful streamers and intricate carvings.
Dhammapala Hall
The “Three Artistic Wonders” of Kumbum
Kumbum is celebrated throughout Asia for its “Three Arts,” which represent the peak of Tibetan craftsmanship and devotion.
I. Vivid Yak Butter Sculptures
In the freezing depths of winter, when fresh flowers were unavailable for offerings, monks began carving flowers from yak butter. This evolved into a sophisticated art form. In the Yak Butter Sculpture Hall, you can see entire landscapes, pavilions, and deities crafted with impossible detail. To keep the butter from melting while they work, monks must dip their hands in ice water—a true testament to their endurance and faith.
II. Imaginative Barbola (Embroidered Appliqué)
Barbola is a unique form of 3D silk embroidery. By layering silk and cotton, artists create raised patterns that give the figures of Buddhas and animals a lifelike, three-dimensional appearance. The “Sixteen Disciples of Buddha” housed in the Main Assembly Hall are considered national treasures.
III. Exquisite Murals
The walls of Kumbum are alive with color. Using special mineral pigments that remain vibrant for centuries, these murals depict the life of Shakyamuni and scenes from the sutras. During the Sutra-viewing Festival, a massive 30-meter-long Buddha scroll is unfurled on the hillside, a breathtaking sight known as the “Great Buddha Exhibition.”
Kumbum Monastery hosts four major Dharma assemblies annually, held during the first, fourth, sixth, and ninth months of the lunar calendar. These gatherings are a blend of traditional festivals and grand religious events unique to the monastery. During these times, the temple comes alive with sacred activities, including monastic debates, mask dances, and sutra chanting.
A highlight of these fairs is the Cham Dance, where monks wear ornate masks and vibrant costumes, using dramatic gestures to express profound Buddhist teachings to the rhythm of cymbals and suonas (traditional horns). One of the most awe-inspiring sights is the Giant Thangka Unveiling, where a massive, delicate image of Tsongkhapa is unfurled down the mountainside. For the faithful, witnessing this Thangka is considered a direct and holy encounter with the Master himself.
Thangka Exhibition during the Buddha Festival
In July 2006, this sacred temple issued its formal recognition and congratulations to H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III
United International World Buddhism Association Headquarters:
Under auspicious circumstances, we were happy to learn of the publication of A Treasury of True Buddha-Dharma—Complete Proficiency in Exoteric and Esoteric Buddhism and Perfect Mastery of the Five Vidyas about the Buddha Vajradhara, H.H. Master Yangwo Wan Ko Yeshe Norbu. His Holiness’s outstanding accomplishments are unprecedented. We respectfully send this letter of congratulations and joyfully offer our praise.
His actions and mind are pure, and His good fortune and wisdom are limitless. He benefits myriad living beings, and His willpower never tires. His powerful virtue is widespread, and His appearance is completely dignified. He truly abides in peace and His accomplishments are perfect!
Qinghai Skuvbum Monastery An auspicious day in July of 2006
Below is the original copy of the recognition letter in Chinese:
In the annals of spiritual history, few figures are as revolutionary as Huineng (慧能), the Sixth Patriarch of Zen (Chan) Buddhism. His life story is a profound testament to the idea that enlightenment is not reserved for the elite or the scholarly, but is the inherent birthright of every human being.
Known for the iconic verse you mentioned—“Bodhi originally has no tree”—Huineng transformed Zen from a complex Indian philosophy into the direct, spontaneous practice we recognize today.
Huineng’s journey did not begin in a monastery. He was born into a poor family in 7th-century China and worked as an illiterate woodcutter to support his widowed mother.
His life changed in an instant when he overheard a traveler reciting the Diamond Sutra. Upon hearing the line, “Depending upon nothing, the mind arises,” Huineng experienced a sudden moment of clarity. This “sudden awakening” became the hallmark of his future teachings.
Driven by this experience, he traveled to the Dongshan Monastery to seek guidance from the Fifth Patriarch, Hongren.
Huineng’s status as an illiterate outsider meant he was initially assigned to the kitchen to hull rice. When the time came for the Fifth Patriarch to choose a successor, he asked his disciples to write a “mind-verse” to demonstrate their understanding.
The lead disciple, Shenxiu, wrote a verse emphasizing constant, diligent practice:
“The body is the Bodhi tree; the mind is like a bright mirror on a stand. Take care to wipe it always, and let no dust collect.”
Huineng, hearing the verse, realized it missed the ultimate truth of emptiness. He dictated his now-famous response to be written on the wall:
“Bodhi originally has no tree.The bright mirror on a stand is also not real.From the beginning, not a single thing exists.Where, then, can dust collect?”
Hongren recognized Huineng’s superior realization and secretly passed him the robe and bowl—the symbols of the Patriarchy—in the middle of the night, instructing him to go into hiding until the time was right to teach.
Huineng eventually emerged from hiding and began teaching at Nanhua Temple. His impact on Buddhism was so immense that his teachings were recorded in the Platform Sutra of the Sixth Patriarch. This is the only Buddhist scripture not spoken by a Buddha to be officially granted the title of a “Sutra.”
His major achievements include:
The Southern School of Zen: He founded the “Southern School,” which emphasizes “Sudden Enlightenment” (Dunwu) over gradual study.
Democratizing Wisdom: He taught that the “Buddha-nature” is present in everyone, regardless of literacy or social status.
The Foundation of Zen: Nearly all surviving Zen lineages (including Japanese Zen and Korean Seon) trace their ancestry back to Huineng.
A Living Legacy: The Whole-Body Relic
Perhaps the most miraculous aspect of Huineng’s story is his physical departure from this world. In 713 AD, Huineng entered Nirvana, but his body did not decay.
To this day, his whole-body relic (mummy) is enshrined and preserved at Nanhua Temple in Shaoguan, Guangdong Province. For over 1,300 years, devotees have traveled to the temple to pay respects to the Sixth Patriarch. His physical presence remains a powerful symbol of the “Diamond Body”—the incorruptible nature of a truly enlightened mind.
Huineng reminds us that we do not need to look outside ourselves for wisdom. As he famously taught, our original nature is pure, and enlightenment is simply the act of seeing through the “dust” to the emptiness that was there all along.
Zhenru Chan Temple is nestled on the southwestern slopes of Yunju Mountain in Jiangxi Province. Surrounded by peaks said to resemble unfolding lotus petals, the landscape is poetically described as “lotus peaks clustering around Huatai.” Huatai, the mountain’s central peak, anchors this natural harmony. Here, architecture, terrain, and spiritual intention merge seamlessly, creating a setting that feels both grounded and quietly transcendent.
Even before understanding its history, one senses that this is a place shaped not to dominate nature, but to listen to it.
The name Zhenru (真如) means “True Suchness”—a fundamental concept in Chan Buddhism that points to ultimate reality as it is, beyond words, labels, or conceptual thinking. It is not something to be grasped intellectually, but something to be directly experienced.
Founded during the Tang Dynasty (806–810), Zhenru Chan Temple is regarded as the cradle of the Caodong School of Chan Buddhism, which later spread to Japan as the Soto Zen tradition. Revered as one of China’s three great model Chan monasteries, the temple has long been a center for authentic practice. Though the present structures were rebuilt in the 1950s, they preserve the simplicity and elegance of traditional Chinese monastic architecture.
Chan in Action: Meditation and Farming as One Path
One of Zhenru Temple’s defining characteristics is its embodiment of the Chan principle that “agriculture and meditation are equally emphasized.” Monks here did not retreat from life; they engaged it fully.
Alongside meditation, monks cultivated tea fields and farmed the land. This was not merely practical—it was spiritual. Farming ensured self-sufficiency in the remote mountains, freeing the monastery from reliance on external donations. More importantly, working the soil was understood as a form of Chan practice: repetitive, mindful, intimate with the rhythms of nature.
In the Caodong tradition, there is no division between the sacred and the ordinary. Plowing a field is no less sacred than chanting a sutra. The monks alternated between sitting meditation and physical labor, living out the Chan maxim:
“A day without work is a day without food.”
This principle is traditionally attributed to the Tang-dynasty Chan master Baizhang Huaihai (720–814), a disciple of Mazu Daoyi and a key figure in establishing Chan monastic regulations. His teaching reminds us that awakening is not found apart from daily life, but revealed within it.
Master Xu Yun: Reviving the Living Dharma
Zhenru Chan Temple is also inseparably linked to Master Xu Yun (1840–1959), one of the most revered Chan masters of modern China, often described as a rare master who embodied and transmitted the lineages of five Chan schools in a single lifetime.
When Master Xu Yun arrived at Zhenru in the early 20th century, the temple lay largely in ruins. With unwavering resolve, he led an extensive restoration—rebuilding halls, pagodas, and monastic quarters with the support of disciples and lay donors. More than physical reconstruction, he revived strict monastic discipline and rigorous meditation practice, restoring the temple’s spiritual vitality.
Zhenru ultimately became the place where Master Xu Yun passed away, completing a life devoted to the Dharma.
Earlier in his life, Master Xu Yun experienced a profound awakening during intensive meditation at Gaomin Temple in Yangzhou at the age of fifty-six. In his autobiography, he described the experience with clarity and restraint:
“In the purity of my single-mindedness, I forgot my body entirely. After twenty days, my illness disappeared. From that moment on, my practice continued day and night without interruption… One evening after meditation, I opened my eyes and saw a brightness like broad daylight, in which everything inside and outside the monastery was clearly visible.”
Yet what makes his account especially powerful is what followed. Master Xu Yun did not cling to the experience. He recognized it as a mental state—not an ultimate attainment—and continued his investigation with humility and perseverance, asking relentlessly:
“Who is mindful of the Buddha?”
Later, he commemorated a moment of deep insight triggered by the simple sound of a teacup breaking in the Chan hall, capturing Chan’s direct and unadorned wisdom in a verse:
A cup fell to the ground, The sound rang clear and sharp. Space itself shattered— The restless mind came to rest.
This is primarily a video demonstration of the moving meditation practiced at Zhen Ru Chan Temple.
Zhenru Chan Temple is more than a historical site. It is a living reminder that Chan practice is not confined to silence or retreat, but woven into how we walk, work, and meet the ordinary moments of life.
Peace LiLy 
