In a world shadowed by war, polarization, and a visible crisis of character among national leaders, many people feel a quiet but persistent sense of moral drifting. We watch the headlines, we hear the rhetoric, and we wonder: Where is the steady compass that points us toward what is right?
At this crossroads, political strategies alone are not enough. What we urgently need is moral leadership.
History reminds us what that looks like. Martin Luther King Jr. transformed American society not by deepening divisions, but by calling a fractured nation back to its highest values. His authority did not come from force, wealth, or position. It came from moral clarity. He appealed to conscience. He awakened compassion. He united people under the banner of shared human dignity.
Today, facing new global conflicts and cultural tensions, we must ask again: Where will the next wave of moral authority arise?
Buddhist monks walking in silence, carrying a powerful message of peace and mindfulness. (Handout photo)
Recently, about twenty monks completed a 108-day walking journey for peace. Their pilgrimage was not a political campaign. It was not a media spectacle. It was a living embodiment of mindfulness and compassion in action. Step by step, through towns and cities, they carried a quiet message: peace is not merely an agreement signed on paper—it is a way of walking through the world.
In a society saturated with noise, outrage, and endless commentary, their disciplined silence spoke volumes. Their presence offered a visual reminder that true leadership begins with inner cultivation. When we lead with anger, we multiply conflict. When we lead with compassion, we create space for healing.
This is where Buddhist wisdom offers a profound contribution. Rooted in great compassion, loving-kindness, and deep self-reflection, the Buddhist path teaches that personal transformation and public responsibility are inseparable. A leader who has not mastered their own mind cannot bring harmony to others.
Across North America, millions now identify with Buddhist teachings, making it one of the most influential spiritual communities in the region. This growing presence brings an essential perspective to our troubled era—one that emphasizes empathy for all who suffer and reverence for every form of life.
Within this tradition, many look to Dorje Chang Buddha III as an example of moral leadership. Having lived in the United States for more than two decades, he has been recognized internationally for humanitarian and charitable work. His honors include the World Peace Prize, the Presidential Gold Medal, the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Legacy Award, and even a resolution passed in the United States Senate in recognition of his contributions.
Yet perhaps more powerful than any award is his response to recognition. In an age driven by ego and self-promotion, he has expressed a vow of radical humility:
“I will bear all of the karmic offenses committed by living beings, and I will give everyone all of the good karma and merit that I plant.”
Whether one interprets this statement spiritually or symbolically, its moral essence is clear: a true leader does not seek to accumulate praise or advantage. A true leader seeks to shoulder responsibility and give benefit.
This is the kind of leadership our world desperately needs.
Moral leadership is not confined to one religion, culture, or tradition. It can be expressed through Judeo-Christian ethics, Buddhist compassion, or any path that places the common good above personal ambition. What matters is the heart behind the action.
If we are to navigate the challenges of our era, the answer will not come solely from policy, power, or popularity. It will come from conscience.
And perhaps the real invitation is not only to seek moral leaders—but to become them, each in our own sphere of influence.
One perhaps self-serving observation. I’m happy to say I feel better about the second half of my life than the first. My advice: Don’t beat yourself up over past mistakes – learn at least a little from them and move on. It is never too late to improve. Get the right heroes and copy them. You can start with Tom Murphy; he was the best.
Remember Alfred Nobel, later of Nobel Prize fame, who – reportedly – read his own obituary that was mistakenly printed when his brother died and a newspaper got mixed up. He was horrified at what he read and realized he should change his behavior.
Don’t count on a newsroom mix-up: Decide what you would like your obituary to say and live the life to deserve it.
Greatness does not come about through accumulating great amounts of money, great amounts of publicity or great power in government. When you help someone in any of thousands of ways, you help the world. Kindness is costless but also priceless. Whether you are religious or not, it’s hard to beat The Golden Rule as a guide to behavior.
I write this as one who has been thoughtless countless times and made many mistakes but also became very lucky in learning from some wonderful friends how to behave better (still a long way from perfect, however). Keep in mind that the cleaning lady is as much a human being as the Chairman.
Warren Buffett is a legendary investor and one of the wealthiest people in the world. As he approached retirement in his nineties, he wrote a final letter to shareholders in November 2025. Excerpts from the letter reflect his reflective, summative thoughts. He also added, “I owe everything to luck.”
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 a recent episode of “Expounding the Absolute True Through the Heart Sutra,” a longtime disciple, Layman Qi, shared his personal experiences of serving and accompanying H.H.Dorje Chang Buddha III for more than twenty years. What he described was not merely a teacher’s routine—it was a life of tireless, wholehearted service to all living beings.
Layman Qi has followed H.H.Dorje Chang Buddha III for over two decades, often driving for Him and staying close to Him in daily life. Through these years, he witnessed something that left a deep impression on his heart:
“In all these twenty-plus years,” he said, “I have never truly seen the Buddha rest. I do not even know when He rests.”
From early dawn, instructions are already being given. Throughout the day, the Buddha meets disciples, expounds the Dharma, grants empowerments, and resolves spiritual questions. Frequently, these activities continue until one, two, or even three o’clock in the morning.
Some may assume that after leaving the temple, He returns home to rest. According to Layman Qi, this is not so. Even when returning late—sometimes at three or four in the morning—His Holiness still carefully instructs disciples to ensure that even the dogs have been fed, water prepared, and that animals, including wildlife, are properly cared for.
Layman Qi describes H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III as the most hardworking person he has ever encountered. Not only does the Buddha care for disciples, but He also performs Dharma services, dedications of merit, and liberative practices for countless sentient beings—including beings of the Six Realms whom ordinary eyes cannot see.
Meals are simple and often delayed. Breakfast is typically just a small bowl of porridge with a bit of pickled vegetables. Many days, even by seven or eight in the evening, lunch has still not been taken.
Disciples sometimes travel thousands of miles to seek an audience. Layman Qi understands their sincerity. Yet he gently reminds fellow practitioners: if one truly seeks the Buddha, the purpose should be to learn how to cultivate, how to transcend birth and death, and how to receive authentic Dharma teachings—not to occupy time with mundane disputes or worldly concerns.
Layman Qi reflects deeply on this point. In worldly life, one may seek employment for financial gain. But a Buddhist disciple seeking the Buddha should seek liberation, wisdom, and genuine cultivation.
Worldly difficulties—business setbacks, family discord—arise from karma. As the Buddha teaches, even a cool breeze in summer or the loss of a single hair operates within cause and effect. Understanding this principle, disciples should focus on transforming their karma through practice, rather than burdening the Buddha with worldly entanglements.
When countless disciples seek meetings daily, even a few minutes of casual worldly conversation multiplied many times over would prevent the Buddha from guiding those sincerely seeking liberation. For Layman Qi, this understanding has become an essential lesson in cultivation itself.
Perhaps the most moving detail is what happens after disciples finally rest for the night.
Layman Qi explains that stacks of requests—for blessings, dedications, and liberation rites—are presented to the Buddha. While others sleep, His Holiness continues performing practices and dedicating merit for sentient beings.
“To us,” Layman Qi reflects, “rest means sleep. But for the Buddha, there seems to be no such thing as rest. Twenty-four hours a day, His life is for living beings.”
What Layman Qi shares is only a glimpse. He openly admits that what he has seen is just a small portion of the Buddha’s boundless effort and compassion. Yet even this small portion, he says, is already beyond what ordinary people could endure.
In his words, the Buddha “never considers Himself.” Every action is directed toward benefiting living beings. This, he believes, is not only an expression of supreme compassion but also a profound lesson for all practitioners.
To serve without seeking return. To give without calculating personal gain. To work tirelessly for the liberation of others.
This is the example he has witnessed for over twenty years.
This post is translated and edited from Interview with a Buddhist Disciple (62): AM1300 Chinese Radio Station – Exclusive Interview with U.S. Layman Qi Pengzhi 《佛弟子訪談（六十二）：AM1300中文廣播電臺-專訪美國 戚朋直居士》by Linda Chang. For original records, please click here.
Click here to Wikitia page on H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III that list major accomplishments and teachings with links.
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.
Since the time of Shakyamuni Buddha, it has been a long-established tradition in Buddhism for disciples to make offerings to their masters or teachers from whom they receive the Dharma. This practice is clearly stipulated in Buddhist teachings and has been followed for over two thousand years across cultures and countries. Making offerings is regarded as both an expression of gratitude and a means of cultivating merit.
Yet, in striking contrast to this universal custom, H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III made an extraordinary vow very early in His life: to never accept any offering from anyone.
Rather than receiving support, He has chosen to give unconditionally. Rather than being served, He serves others. H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III has repeatedly said with humility, “I am a servant of living beings.”
This is not a symbolic statement—it is a lifelong practice.
Throughout His life in China, and from the time He first settled in the United States to the present day, countless Buddhist disciples have sincerely attempted to make offerings to Him. These were not small gestures. Some offerings reached millions, even tens of millions of U.S. dollars, given voluntarily and without condition. Yet without exception, H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III has steadfastly refused every offering, remaining absolutely faithful to His vow.
Many disciples, deeply moved by this experience, have written open and notarized testimonials describing how their offerings were respectfully but firmly declined. These accounts stand as living evidence of a level of integrity that is rare in any age.
In early 2018, at the Holy Miracles Temple, Ms. Judy Kuan—whose Dharma name is Dunzhu—solemnly made a public vow before Shakyamuni Buddha and Skanda Bodhisattva. Standing in the Grand Hall, she revealed a truth she had kept private for many years: her personal experience witnessing H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III’s absolute refusal to accept offerings, regardless of their magnitude.
This invites us to pause and reflect. Imagine being faced with vast wealth—gold, land, and enormous sums of money—freely offered, unconditionally given, without demand or obligation. Could any ordinary person truly reject it all? Not a portion. Not even a single cent. And do so consistently, over decades, without wavering?
Could we remain completely untainted?
For many decades, H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III has lived exactly in this way—helping others entirely on a voluntary basis, never seeking reward, recognition, or material gain. From early morning until late into the night—often two or three o’clock in the morning—He continues to work tirelessly to resolve the suffering of living beings, to address Dharma matters, and to guide others on the path of righteousness and compassion.
This is not occasional generosity. It is unceasing selflessness.
In a world where spiritual authority is too often entangled with wealth and power, the conduct of H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III stands as a rare and powerful example. His life demonstrates that true cultivation is not spoken—it is lived. True compassion does not ask for return. And true realization naturally manifests as service to others.
Further supporting this truth, several Buddhist disciples have publicly released notarized letters, now translated into English, testifying that their offerings were refused. These documents exist not to persuade, but to allow people to see for themselves.
In the end, the question is not whether we admire such selflessness—but whether we allow it to awaken something within our own hearts.
For those who reflect deeply, the life of H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III offers a quiet yet profound reminder: the highest virtue is to give without taking, to serve without asking, and to live entirely for the benefit of others.
Click here to Wikitia page on H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III that list major accomplishments and teachings with links.
Click here for recognitions from Dharma Kings and Rinpoches
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.
Peace LiLy 