While many ancient wonders exist only as weathered ruins—silent witnesses to lost civilizations—Dujiangyan Irrigation System is something entirely different. It is not a relic of the past, but a living, breathing masterpiece.
Built around 256 BC by the visionary engineer Li Bing, this extraordinary irrigation system continues to do exactly what it was designed to do over two millennia ago: tame the waters of the Min River, prevent catastrophic floods, and nourish vast stretches of fertile land across the Chengdu Plain.
What makes Dujiangyan truly astonishing is not just its longevity—but its philosophy. It achieves perfect water control without a single dam.
Modern engineering often seeks to conquer nature with towering concrete barriers. Dujiangyan, by contrast, embodies a radically different idea: harmony over control.
Rather than blocking the river, the system gently guides it—using the river’s own energy to regulate itself through three elegantly designed components:
Yuzui (Fish’s Mouth Levee): A natural divider that splits the river into inner and outer channels.
Feishayan (Flying Sands Weir): A clever spillway that uses the river’s force to flush away excess water and sediment.
Baopingkou (Precious Bottle Neck): A narrow opening carved through the mountain, acting like a natural valve to control water flow.
Fish’s Mouth Levee
Flying Sands Weir
Baopingkou
Together, these elements form a system that feels less like machinery and more like a living organism—responsive, adaptive, and enduring.
The “Four-Six” Rule: Nature’s Invisible Hand
At the heart of Dujiangyan lies one of its most brilliant innovations: the Four-Six Divide (四六分水)—a subtle yet powerful hydraulic principle.
Through careful shaping of the riverbed, Li Bing created an automatic system that adjusts itself with the seasons:
In the dry spring months, the deeper Inner River naturally draws in about 60% of the water, ensuring that farmlands receive the nourishment they need.
During the summer floods, the wider Outer River takes over, diverting roughly 60% of the surging waters away from populated areas.
No gates. No sensors. No human intervention.
Just the quiet intelligence of design aligned with nature.
The result is nothing short of extraordinary: a self-regulating system that protects against both drought and disaster.
Why It Still Thrives After 2,200 Years
It is rare—almost unimaginable—for a piece of infrastructure this ancient to remain central to modern life. Yet Dujiangyan continues to serve as the lifeline of the Chengdu Plain.
Its enduring relevance lies in principles that feel strikingly modern:
Sustainability: Instead of fighting sediment buildup, the system uses the “Flying Sands” technique to naturally flush out the majority of silt, keeping waterways clear.
Ecological Harmony: Without a massive dam or reservoir, the river remains alive—fish migrate freely, and ecosystems flourish undisturbed.
Living Tradition: The annual practice of Zhuoshui—a deep cleaning of the riverbed—continues today, blending ancient ritual with contemporary science.
Li Bing’s guiding philosophy was deceptively simple: “Deepen the channel, keep the dykes low.”
Yet within these words lies a profound truth—one that extends far beyond water management.
By respecting the natural flow rather than resisting it, he created a system that has outlasted kingdoms, revolutions, and the passage of time itself.
Recognized today as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, Dujiangyan stands as a quiet but powerful reminder:
Sometimes, the most advanced solutions are not those that overpower nature—but those that understand it.
And perhaps, in a world still learning to balance progress with sustainability, this ancient marvel is not just a story of the past—but a guide for the future.
In 1925, the lay practitioner Zhou Qunzheng made a pilgrimage to Mount Putuo together with Master Hongyi (弘一). At the Zhoushan pier, they encountered a monk. Upon learning that the monk was from the same hometown, Zhou asked him, “What inspired you to leave the household life and become a monk?”
The monk replied:
“I was originally a soldier. One day, I saw a shopkeeper’s wife sitting on the street, weeping. I asked her what had happened. She said a customer had come into her shop, bought something, and paid with three silver coins. After he left, she discovered that all three coins were counterfeit. She feared her husband would scold her, so she cried in distress.
I couldn’t bear to see her suffering, so I took out three genuine silver coins and offered to exchange them with her. She refused, but I insisted and eventually made the exchange.
Later, during a battle, a shell exploded right beside me. Shrapnel struck my chest, yet I was unharmed. When I looked closely, I realized that the three counterfeit coins in my pocket had saved my life—two had been pierced by the shrapnel, and one remained intact. It was because they shielded me that I survived without injury.
After that, I thought to myself: what meaning is there in spending the rest of my life amid gunfire and danger? So I chose to leave the worldly life and become a monk…”
Therefore, do not think that constantly encouraging others to do good deeds and accumulate virtue is merely empty, repetitive talk. Sometimes, you have no idea how much misfortune your blessings have already shielded you from.
Behind every day that you return home safely, how much of it is because “before blessings fully arrive, calamities have already been kept at a distance”?
To practice kindness and accumulate virtue—it is never too late.
He built a road for others, and unknowingly paved one for himself
In 2014, in a remote village in Guangxi(广西）China, a 44-year-old man named Huang Yuanfeng was diagnosed with terminal liver cancer. Doctors told him the reality: without treatment, he might live only three months; with treatment, perhaps a few more years—but at the cost of his family’s entire savings of 170,000 yuan.
Most people would have chosen to fight for their own survival.
But Huang made a different decision.
Looking at the muddy, nearly impassable road in his village—a road that trapped children at home during rainy days and left crops to rot—he chose to spend all his savings not on treatment, but on building a road for everyone.
When the money ran short, he borrowed more from neighbors, making a solemn promise: “Even if I die, my son will repay you.”
Against all odds, the road was completed. It transformed the village, bringing in visitors, creating opportunities, and improving countless lives.
But what happened next was even more astonishing.
When Huang returned to the hospital for a check-up, his condition had not worsened—in fact, it had stabilized, even improved. What seemed like a certain end became an unexpected turning point.
His story carries a simple but powerful truth:
Kindness is never lost. The good you do for others may one day return to protect you—especially in life’s most dangerous moments.
Chinese characters are more than just written symbols—they are small works of art shaped by thousands of years of history. Each character carries meaning, imagery, and often a quiet sense of poetry. A single word can evoke light, wind, mountains, or virtue. When these characters come together to form a person’s name, they become something even more meaningful: a reflection of family hopes, cultural heritage, and the beauty of language itself.
A name often carries the very first blessing from parents and the hopes a family places upon the future.
Imagine traveling back in time to ancient China. If you walked up to Liu Bei (刘备）and casually called him “Liu Bei,” he might pause in surprise—or even consider it somewhat impolite. In traditional Chinese culture, a name was never just a label. It was a symbol of lineage and family, a part of life’s rituals, and perhaps the first gentle poem parents wrote for their child.
A name may consist of only a few characters, yet within it often lies thousands of years of cultural tradition and human warmth.
Surnames and Clan Names: An Ancient Way of Asking “Who Am I?”
Today, we simply combine a surname and given name to form what we call a “full name.” But in ancient China, particularly before the Qin dynasty, “xing” (姓) and “shi” (氏) were two different concepts.
The surname (xing) was primarily used to distinguish marriage relations. The earliest Chinese surnames—such as Ji, Jiang, Si, and Ying—often contained the “female” radical in their characters. This reflected the legacy of a matrilineal society. The principle was simple: people with the same surname were considered to share blood ties, so marriage between them was forbidden.
The clan name (shi), on the other hand, represented social status. Only those who held land, titles, or significant achievements were granted a clan name. In other words, the surname represented lineage, while the clan name reflected rank and honor.
A fascinating example is the famous reformer Shang Yang (商殃） of the Warring States period. He was not originally called “Shang Yang.” His ancestral surname was Ji, and his clan name was Gongsun because he descended from the royal family of the State of Wei. Early in life he was known as Gongsun Yang. Later, after helping transform the State of Qin through sweeping reforms, he was granted the territory of Shang and the title “Lord of Shang.” From then on, people began calling him Shang Yang.
Looking back at history, one might smile at an interesting truth: In ancient times, many people changed their names not to hide who they were—but because life had elevated them to a new chapter.
The Courtesy Name: A Rite of Adulthood
In ancient China, a person often had more than one name. In addition to their given name (ming), they also received a courtesy name (zi).
The given name was mostly used within the family, especially by elders. The courtesy name, however, was the name used in society by peers and acquaintances.
Receiving a courtesy name meant that a person had reached adulthood and should be treated with respect.
For men, this moment came at the age of twenty during the “capping ceremony” (冠礼). In this solemn ritual, elders placed a ceremonial cap on the young man and bestowed upon him his courtesy name. From that day forward, he was no longer the boy running through village fields with childhood nicknames like “Little Dog” or “Iron Egg,” but a recognized adult in society.
For women, adulthood was marked by the hairpin ceremony (笄礼) at around fifteen. After this ceremony, a young woman could wear her hair pinned up with a hairpin, signifying that she had reached marriageable age.
This is where the classical phrase “waiting in the boudoir for one’s courtesy name” (待字闺中) comes from—describing a young woman who has received her courtesy name and awaits the next chapter of life.
These rituals made the transition into adulthood both solemn and graceful.
Chinese culture often reveals its subtle wisdom in the relationship between a person’s given name and courtesy name.
The great strategist Zhuge Liang （诸葛亮）was known by the courtesy name Kongming（孔明）. The character Liang means “bright,” and Ming also means “light” or “clarity.” Together they form a beautiful echo—brightness upon brightness.
The legendary general Zhao Yun （赵云）had the courtesy name Zilong（子龙）. Ancient Chinese sayings describe the natural harmony between elements: “Clouds follow the dragon, and the wind follows the tiger.” With “cloud” in his given name and “dragon” in his courtesy name, the combination evokes an image of heroic power moving through the skies.
Then there is the great Song dynasty writer Su Shi（苏轼）, whose courtesy name was Zizhan（子瞻）. The character Shi refers to a horizontal bar at the front of an ancient carriage—something modest in appearance yet essential for support. Zhan means “to look forward into the distance.” One suggests quiet steadiness; the other, far-reaching vision. Together they reflect the balance of humility and aspiration in his life.
Through these pairings, we can glimpse the hopes of parents and elders, as well as the refined and poetic sensibilities of traditional Chinese culture.
Of course, not every ancient name was elegant or poetic. Some carried a touch of everyday humor.
The ruler Duke Cheng of Jin was said to have the name Heitun（黑臀）, meaning “Black Hips,” supposedly because he had a dark birthmark on his body.
Another ruler, Duke Zhuang of Zheng, was named Wusheng（晤生）, meaning “born with difficulty,” referring to a difficult birth.
If children today were given such names, they might have a few serious conversations with their parents!
On the other hand, some names sounded incredibly powerful. The king King Wu of Qin was named Ying Dang. In ancient Chinese, the character “Dang” suggested sweeping across lands and conquering territories—a name filled with ambition and authority.
Sometimes a name was lofty and ceremonial; sometimes it simply reflected the humor of daily life.
From ancient tribal totems to the familiar Hundred Family Surnames, Chinese names carry thousands of years of cultural memory.
Today, we no longer perform capping ceremonies or hairpin ceremonies, and few people receive courtesy names. Yet when a new child enters the world, parents still open dictionaries, carefully weighing every sound and every meaning before choosing a name.
In that moment, tradition quietly continues.
As an old Chinese poem says:
“A heart’s great aspirations may remain unopened, yet spring winds return again and again in dreams.”
A name may consist of only a few characters, but it carries a family’s blessing, the imprint of history, and the gentlest hopes for the future.
It is the very first gift a person receives in life.
Recently, I had the opportunity to visit the Triton Museum of Art, a cultural gem nestled in the heart of Santa Clara, California. Surrounded by a peaceful park, the museum offers a quiet and welcoming space where visitors can slow down, reflect, and experience the beauty and creativity of contemporary art.
Founded in 1965, the Triton Museum has long been dedicated to showcasing artists connected to California and beyond. What I appreciate most about this museum is its openness—it is free to the public, making art accessible to everyone in the community. Walking through the galleries, one can feel how art becomes a bridge connecting cultures, ideas, and human experiences.
Encountering the Art of Emanuel Harris‑Sintamarian
During my visit, one exhibition that particularly captured my attention featured the work of Romanian artist Emanuel Harris‑Sintamarian. His paintings immediately drew me in with their unique textures, layered compositions, and deeply expressive forms.
There is something both mysterious and meditative about his work. The colors and shapes seem to flow organically across the canvas, inviting viewers to pause and explore their own interpretations. Rather than presenting a straightforward image, his art feels like a visual journey—one that encourages contemplation and emotional reflection.
During my visit, I took several photos of the exhibition that I would like to share here. These images capture only a small glimpse of the atmosphere inside the gallery, but they reflect the creativity and thoughtful spirit of the artists on display.
Jesus, Popcorn and other details 2024 Acrylic, gouache on paper In Jesus, Popcorn and Other Details, I bring the sacred into direct contact with systems of spectacle, labor, and consumption. Jesus is not placed above the world, but embedded within it – caught in scaffolding, color, and movement – where belief collides with industry and visual excess. Popcorn becomes both image and metaphor, standing in for abundance, distraction, and the way meaning is consumed, repeated, and ritualized I intentionally built a dense, restless composition that resists hierarchy or stillness, reflecting how faith, entertainment, and production compete for attention in contemporary life. Rather than offering reverence or critique alone, the painting holds these tensions in place, asking the viewer to sit inside the noise and consider where meaning survives.
The goal of the ascent in sight: Taktsang Monastery is perched high on the steep cliff face
On a pilgrimage to holy places, one rarely follows a rigid plan. Rather, one engages with a flow of events. Our last days in Bhutan reminded us how valuable it is to let go of expectations. We learned that special doors often open exactly when one is ready to leave the original path.
Change of Plans in Punakha: Trusting the Flow of Things
The sixth day showed us this very clearly. Actually, we had a fixed plan: We wanted to drive from Punakha back to Paro. There, we had donated 3,000 butter lamps which we wanted to light ceremonially in a temple.
But then we received news on short notice that an audience with His Holiness the Je Khenpo, the highest religious head of the country, would be possible. Such an opportunity is a great blessing. However, there was a restriction: Our entire travel group was simply too large for this spontaneous audience.
So we had to split up in Punakha. One part of the group drove directly on to Paro, while the other part drove to Thimphu, where His Holiness the Je Khenpo was staying at the time. I traveled with this group.
View of Thimphu with the Buddha Dordenma statue in the background
Thangton Dewachen Nunnery: Legacy of the Iron Bridge Monk
Arriving in Thimphu, we still had some time before the appointment. We visited the Thangton Dewachen Duthop Nunnery. It is the only one of its kind in the capital and goes back to the legendary Thangtong Gyalpo. He was a fascinating personality: A great Mahasiddha and at the same time an ingenious engineer who lived in the 15th century. He is famous as the “Iron Bridge Monk,” as he built dozens of suspension bridges made of iron chains throughout the Himalayas to allow pilgrims and travelers to cross raging rivers. Many of his constructions withstood the centuries. We were welcomed very warmly at this place: We were served tea in the courtyard of the monastery, and we could enjoy the peaceful atmosphere for a moment before we had to leave.
Visiting the Thangton Dewachen Duthop Nunnery
Kalachakra Initiation: Encounter with H.H. the Je Khenpo
After lunch, we made our way to the stadium. There, H.H. the Je Khenpo was leading the conclusion of the Kalachakra initiation. The crowds were immense. The stadium itself was packed to capacity, but that was far from enough. Countless people had also gathered on the grounds outside to partake in the event. It was a very impressive image. The ceremony was also being broadcast live on Bhutanese television. We initially had to wait before the gates until we were allowed into the stadium.
After some time, we were able to enter and were led to a separate waiting area inside the stadium. During this time, a chance but wonderful encounter occurred. We met the young Vairochana Rinpoche (Ngawang Jigme Jigten Wangchuk). He is a highly revered Tulku and the son of Her Royal Highness Princess Sonam Dechan Wangchuk. He is revered as the reincarnation of the great translator Vairochana from the 8th century, one of the most important disciples of Guru Padmasambhava.
Following this, we were granted an audience with H.H. the Je Khenpo. Filled with gratitude, we presented him with a Khata (white scarf) as a token of our deep respect. In this special setting, we also had the opportunity to present His Holiness with information regarding the ‘Holy Heavenly Lake Buddhist Town’ project. Each of us then received a personal blessing, and upon our departure, he presented us with a text of the Amitabha Sadhana for our own practice.
Our group after the audience with H.H. the Je Khenpo
After the meeting with the Je Khenpo, a further great honor was completely unexpectedly offered to us: Actually, we were supposed to meet the young Vairochana Rinpoche and the Queen Mother for an official audience afterwards. But when the Kalachakra initiation ended, thousands of people streamed out of the stadium at the same time. Traffic in Thimphu came to a complete standstill. There was no getting through, and we could not reach the agreed location in time. Such are the karmic conditions sometimes. But we did not quarrel with fate: After everything we had experienced that day and the blessing we were allowed to receive, we felt richly gifted.
The Tiger’s Nest: Ascent to Guru Rinpoche’s Cave
On the last day of our trip, November 15th, the arguably most famous landmark of Bhutan was on the agenda: Paro Taktsang, widely known as the Tiger’s Nest. It is not only architecturally deeply impressive, but one of the holiest sites in the entire Himalayas.
Paro Taktsang Monastery (Tiger’s Nest)
We set off very early to reach the base camp, the parking lot at 2,300 meters. From there, it is about 800 vertical meters up to the monastery, which sits at 3,120 meters. For visitors who do not quite trust themselves with the steep climb, there is generally the option to be carried by a horse or mule for the first part of the route. Our group, however, decided to cover the entire path on foot under our own power.
The ascent took just under three hours. The path is beautiful, but also demanding. It leads through a dense pine forest where rhododendrons grow and the trees are draped with moss. Again and again, prayer flags flutter in the wind. Halfway up, we took a short rest at a café. From there, you already have a first, breathtaking view of the monastery, which literally clings to the steep rock.
Impressions (in order): Resting horses at the starting point, fluttering prayer flags against the mountain backdrop, pack animals on the dusty trail, the first distant view of the cliffside monastery, the moss-covered mountain forest, and Tsa-Tsa offerings in a rock niche.
The history of this place is closely connected to Guru Rinpoche, the great Master Padmasambhava. He is revered by the Bhutanese as the “Second Buddha,” as he brought and firmly established Tantric Buddhism, the Vajrayana, in Bhutan in the 8th century. He manifested his supernatural powers and flew to this very spot on the back of a tigress to subdue a demon. Some say that the tigress was his tantric consort Yeshe Tsogyal in a transformed state. In the cave known as Taktsang Senge Samdup, around which the monastery was later built, he then meditated for exactly three years, three months, three weeks, and three days.
Once at the top, we had to hand in our cameras and bags at the entrance, as photography inside is strictly forbidden. We visited several small temples within the complex. In a special room that is guarded around the clock, I lit a butter lamp. This is the only place in the monastery where open fire is still permitted after a devastating fire destroyed large parts of the complex in the past. In Buddhism, lighting these lamps is a meritorious central ritual.
With Venerable Master Shi Zheng Da in front of the Taktsang Waterfall
Farewell in Paro: A Promise to Return
Back at the hotel in Paro, a special guest awaited us in the evening: Dasho Passang Dorji, the former Speaker of the National Assembly of Bhutan. He had been instrumental in organizing the official appointments and came by personally to apologize politely that the meeting with the King had not taken place due to the commotion. He promised us: “Next time I will arrange, this time the King and the Queen have been too busy.”
Exchange of gifts with Dasho Passang Dorji
In a very friendly atmosphere, an exchange of gifts took place. The Venerable Master Shi Zheng Da presented him with a special art object, a luminous three-dimensional picture of a Yun sculpture designed by H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III. In return, he gave the Master a large golden Shakyamuni Buddha statue. It was a worthy moment of connection.
Scenes from the performance (in order): The famous Drametse Ngacham (Dance of the Drums), a solo dancer bowing deep, the performers of the yak scene, the humorous interaction of the yak with the audience, the women’s dance group in red garments, and finally a traditional performance with bows and arrows combining song and dance.
Afterwards, we watched a cultural performance together with Dasho Passang Dorji. There were traditional dances and songs whose gentle, flowing movements radiated great calm and peace. There were also humorous interludes, like the dance of a yak, where the performers visibly had fun. Even though I did not understand the language, the joy was contagious. After this show, we all gathered for a large group photo to capture this beautiful final evening.
Our entire group with Dasho Passang Dorji and our guides
The next morning, November 16th, it was time to say goodbye. From the hotel, we could look directly at the airport. We had arrived to make a contribution with our donation and our plans. But as I boarded the plane now, I felt that we ourselves were taking away far more than we had given. I took with me not only memories of the mighty mountains and venerable monasteries, but the feeling of a deep connection with our travel group and the people in Bhutan. I return with much inspiration and a heart full of gratitude for the blessing I was allowed to experience in this country.
Created in 1993, Xing Garden at Mount Rili stands as a masterful expression of the artist’s profound understanding of nature and brushwork. The painting presents a dramatic world of steep cliffs and cascading water, inviting the viewer into a landscape that feels both monumental and intimate.
Dominated by vibrant greens, the work vividly captures moss and grasses spreading freely across rocky surfaces. These lush tones breathe life into the cliffs, softening their ruggedness while emphasizing the quiet vitality that thrives within seemingly harsh terrain. Nature here is not static; it pulses with energy and renewal.
The painting employs the refined “Miaoxie” (妙写) technique—a style that reveals its true depth through careful observation. At first glance, the composition appears fluid and effortless. Yet upon closer inspection, the brushstrokes intertwine like delicate wires, layered and interwoven with extraordinary precision. These subtle lines create constant movement and variation, generating emotional richness and visual intrigue through their complexity.
One of the most captivating aspects of this work lies in its masterful use of illusory watery ink, where solidity and transparency coexist. Ink seems to flow and dissolve at the same time, offering a boundless sense of depth and atmosphere. Whether viewed from afar or examined up close, the painting reveals a bottomless waterfall, rendered with meticulous detail yet infused with powerful momentum.
What is especially striking is the contrast between refinement and strength. From a distance, the scene appears serene and orderly; yet when the viewer studies the brushwork closely, the strokes reveal unexpected vigor and boldness. Within apparent emptiness, there is substance; within seeming chaos, there is profound order. This balance embodies the highest level of artistic cultivation.
Through free yet disciplined brushwork, the artist transforms a simple natural motif—a waterfall between two cliffs—into a scene of extraordinary aesthetic depth. The power of each stroke carries both physical strength and spiritual presence, allowing the painting to transcend mere representation and enter the realm of lived experience.
Xing Garden at Mount Rili is more than a landscape painting. It is a quiet dialogue between nature and the artist’s inner world, revealing how true mastery lies not in excess, but in the ability to uncover profound beauty within simplicity.
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.
In November 2025, I went on a very special trip. Together with 66 Dharma brothers and sisters, I set off for Bhutan. Being the only German in this group from the USA, China, Taiwan, and Sri Lanka, I felt at home right away. We were a wonderful mix of monks, nuns, Rinpoches, and lay Buddhists. We all met in Thailand first to travel on to Paro together.
Our goal was more than just a visit. We came to honor the holy sites of this country and to dive into Bhutan’s deep-rooted Buddhist tradition. Of course, we were also excited to get to know the land and its people. Dedicated members of our group took care of the entire organization. Thanks to their excellent planning and the great local guides, everything ran smoothly. We also owe the fact that this trip was possible in this special way to the Venerable Dr. Chandima from Sri Lanka. Through his personal connections to the Kingdom of Bhutan, doors opened for us that might otherwise have remained closed. Having the Venerable Master Shi Zheng Da with us was also especially valuable.
We brought two matters close to our hearts with us. First, it was important to us not to arrive empty-handed. We had collected donations within the group to directly support the hospital in Thimphu and the expectant mothers there. Second, it was our spiritual mission to represent the Buddha Dharma as we learned it from H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III. Connected to this was the wish to share news of the “Holy Heavenly Lake Buddhist Town” project, which is planned to provide space for over 30 Buddhist centers from all over the world.
Arrival in Paro & the Journey to Thimphu
We landed in Paro on November 9th. From there, we took a bus about 40 kilometers through the valley to Thimphu. What I noticed immediately was that the entire road was decorated with five-colored banners. Our guide told us that this was the welcome greeting for the international guests of the “Global Peace Prayer Festival.”
Five-colored flags and pennants along the route
Thimphu itself was incredibly busy. Several events were happening at once: alongside the festival and the King’s upcoming birthday, Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi was also expected for a state visit. You have to know that Thimphu is the only capital city in the world without traffic lights. Despite the crowds and the resulting traffic chaos, everyone remained calm. No one pushed, and people were patient and respectful. This relaxed attitude really impressed me.
National Memorial Chorten: The Spiritual Heart of Thimphu
After checking into our first hotel, we visited the National Memorial Chorten. This is a large, white stupa in the middle of the city, built in 1974 for the third King. For the locals, this is an important place in everyday life. Many go there to walk around the stupa and spin the prayer wheels.
As at all holy sites, photography is not allowed inside. A simple rule applies: as soon as the shoes come off, the camera stays off. This allowed us to soak in the atmosphere without any distractions. The interior houses larger-than-life statues of wrathful deities in Yab-Yum posture and murals of Guru Rinpoche (Padmasambhava), Shakyamuni Buddha, and Ngawang Namgyal, the unifier of Bhutan. Colorful sculptures stand in all four directions. There are also mandalas, shrines for the third King, and images of Vajrakilaya.
Impressions (in order): The white Memorial Chorten, pilgrims at the prayer wheels, the sea of lights from the butter lamps, believers performing prostrations, and our group in front of the stupa.
Our group took the opportunity to chant on the square in front of the stupa, led by the Venerable Master Shi Zheng Da. It was a beautiful experience to do this at such a place.
Authentic Bhutanese Crafts Bazaar: Traditional Arts and Crafts
In the evening, I took the chance to stroll along Norzin Lam. That is where the Authentic Bhutanese Crafts Bazaar is located, which you enter through a distinct red gate. Behind it, many small huts are lined up where local artisans display their goods. There was really a lot to discover. Besides handmade textiles, jewelry, wood carvings, and thangkas, you can also find nice souvenirs to remember the trip by.
Entrance to the Authentic Bhutanese Crafts Bazaar
Global Peace Prayer Festival: Shared Prayers for Peace
November 10th was all about the Global Peace Prayer Festival. Since the stadium was within walking distance of our hotel, we went there on foot. Even on the street, we could feel how many people were flocking to this event. Once inside the stadium, we showed our respect through prostrations before the Venerables present. Afterwards, we were given a spot on the side where we could join in the peace prayers.
From there, we watched the program on the main stage, where various Buddhist traditions took turns with their recitations. Between the prayer sessions, there were traditional dances and songs. I was deeply impressed by how many people came together there peacefully. It was simply a good feeling to be right there among them.
Buddha Dordenma: The Golden Statue Above the Valley
After noon, we continued to the Buddha Dordenma statue in Kuensel Phodrang Nature Park. This is an impressive, 51-meter-high statue of the seated Shakyamuni Buddha. It is made of bronze and completely gilded. By the way, it was built to celebrate the 60th birthday of the fourth King, Jigme Singye Wangchuck.
Buddha Dordenma Statue
Inside the building beneath the statue, there are over 100,000 small Buddhas, also made of bronze and gold. Every single one was donated. There is also a large meditation hall with many more beautiful Buddha statues. Various relics are kept in these rooms, which we were allowed to see during our visit.
Impressions of the Buddha Dordenma statue: The gigantic seated statue in side view, ritual structures featuring traditional thread crosses (Namkha/Mdos) on the plaza, the view up to the Buddha’s face, a relief of a blue elephant on the golden base, and the view over the square featuring golden Dakini statues.
What made this visit special was not just the statue itself. Right there, the conclusion of the Jabshi Gyap ritual was taking place. This is a major, multi-day ceremony intended to purify negative karma and bring healing. Thousands of devotees, monks, and Rinpoches were gathered. We learned that this ritual was done specifically for world peace. It was our good fortune that we could be there at exactly that moment.
A Matter of the Heart: Support for Expectant Mothers
We had collected money in advance to support 500 expectant mothers with care packages. For this reason, we gathered at the end of the day for a ceremonial handover at the hospital in Thimphu.
Handing over the donation at the hospital
In addition to our travel group, hospital staff, the Secretary to the Health Minister, and some mothers also took part. We had the opportunity to personally hand over the first packages to the mothers present.
With that, the first days in the capital were over. Next, the journey would take us out of the city, to ancient Dzongs and into nature.
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.
Peace LiLy 
