Long before Einstein’s famous discovery that “time is relative,” many Buddhist masters meticulously examined subjects such as time and matter. By its very definition, time is temporal, and therefore a relative construct. When I hear that “time is relative,” I think of masters such as Nagarjuna, whose works go into great detail on what constitutes relative truths such as time. Such truths have become glib statements; catch phrases more appropriately used on greeting cards and social gatherings than in serious discussions and work conventions.
With an increased emphasis on corporate culture, such insight is being disregarded. Profound truths are often passed off as abstract philosophy: thought-provoking enough in personal reflection but pseudoscientific and too fluffy for real life. Within the messy confluence of old and new, east and west, I believe that in modern Bhutan we are pigeonholing and devaluing some of the most profound, timeless insights that have been passed down to us.
When and how these developments took place are questions worth asking, especially now with His Majesty’s vision of building a mindfulness city in Bhutan. At what point did we start missing the wisdom from our Buddhist ancestors? Why are ideas such as “time is relative” or “mind over matter” so often credited to western thinkers? With AI and google search at our fingertips, I imagine many of us would readily believe that these nuggets of wisdom were introduced to the world by physicists and geologists such as Albert Einstein and Sir Charles Lyell. While these thinkers should be commended for sharing their insights, such wisdom was discovered and taught long before them—even in our own country.
Bhutan is unique in that much of our nation’s history is a retrospective projection on to the past, based on Buddhist principles. Since much of Bhutanese history was passed down orally, a significant portion of our known history was not documented in a uniform, organized manner until recently. What little has been documented is found mostly in Buddhist liturgy and narratives. Thus, the Bhutanese identity—by virtue of its history—is intimately bound to Buddhist ideals. Not to say that we are all Buddhist in Bhutan, or that we should be. The point is, timeless insights taught by the Buddha have long been ingrained in our culture and identity.
The preservation of culture is an intuitive part of Bhutanese livelihood, reflected even in our country’s national policies. But what is culture? What is our identity? Surely we aren’t defined simply by our clothing or language? Culture is in constant flux, people perpetually adopt new trends and shed old customs. If we were to take seriously the question of what it means to be Bhutanese, shouldn’t we be more concerned about our inner values than preserving our outward customs? If it wasn’t enough that we gloss over the knowledge and insights of our wisdom traditions, we are starting to parrot all kinds of narratives that we pick up from international media and knowledge systems. Trauma, anxiety, addiction, and self-esteem, for example, are ideas that are understandably important in this age of intense uncertainty and social media. But I feel we must be more discerning about the concepts that we subscribe to and meaning behind the words we use.
The implications of psychoanalytic theory, for example, have influenced the meaning of words such as mind and mindfulness, suffering and freedom. One might ask, what’s the harm in that? A valid question for sure. It does make sense to endorse ideas that are relatable and helpful. But should we allow other knowledge systems to define our understanding of the mind simply because the language and presentation feels more accessible? Should we voluntarily surrender our own traditional values? Our Monarchs and ancestors have done everything they could to ensure Bhutan’s sovereignty and safeguard our unique heritage—including in our future with the Gelephu Mindfulness City. If we allow the vast and profound insights of our wisdom heritage to be displaced or sidelined that would be a huge shame. It is one thing to look unique and sovereign. It is entirely another thing to be authentic and genuinely independent in our mindsets.
I am not criticizing western ideas. I am arguing that western values and principles need not define our outlook on the world and should absolutely not supersede the timeless wisdom that is profound, relevant, and still very much alive in our culture.
While modern, psychoanalytical theories are useful, many of us blindly put so much stock in some of these ideas and practices. Meanwhile, our own traditions have a wealth of insight that can certainly help us deal with our “modern” concerns. As much as our Buddhist teachers need to communicate more effectively, those of us that consider ourselves to be critical thinkers could certainly learn to be more reflexive and open minded. Currently, we are faced with a predicament: modern education and media have moulded our worldviews and preconceptions, and many of our Buddhist teachers are also unable to convey their insights in a way that resonates with educated Bhutanese. Should we not try to reconcile this cultural disconnect? Why live off of treated, bottled, imported water when we have the purest natural springs in our backyard?
It can be tremendously beneficial simply to think about what gives meaning to the words we use. For example, I believe that when our King advises “resilience” and “mindfulness” he draws from his own experience as well as the wellsprings of our wisdom heritage. And when he encourages young Bhutanese to be bold and progressive I don’t believe he is asking us to be forward thinking at the expense of forgetting our roots.
The teachings of figures like Guru Rinpoche include a treasury of instructions and advice on how to deal with outer obstacles and inner strife. It really doesn’t require mental gymnastics to recognize that these are guidelines on how to be profoundly resilient. During a recent conversation I teased the idea that we could understand ideas such as resilience through the lens of our Buddhist heritage. To my surprise, a Bhutanese in the room was not so receptive to the idea, interjecting that it is a stretch to connect resilience with the Buddhist outlook on obstacles. My takeaway from experiences like these is that many of us innocently rely on oxford dictionary definitions and unquestioningly embrace ideas such as “emotional processing”, “repression”, “coping mechanisms” and so forth, ideas that are basically part of Sigmund Freud’s institutional legacy.
Due to some of these dynamics, when we read or hear about mindfulness, we take away the impression that mindfulness revolves around stress relief techniques, some kind of magical formula for microscopic focus and a calm mind. Many of us are probably unaware that the call to “be present” is actually profound trickery. After all, can anyone actually grasp the present? If you somehow manage to grasp a moment, it is (un)ironically already in the past. The global mindfulness movement has picked up on slogans such as “be in the present,” but often neglects to tell us that meditation techniques are in fact a compassionate ruse taught by the Buddha to help those that are too absorbed by past trauma or unease about the future to actually look at themselves earnestly. The practice of mindfulness is grounded in a profound worldview that emphasizes wisdom, compassion and interdependence.
As Bhutanese, it would help to be more open to what we disbelieve and critical of what we do believe. Only then would we be able to really connect with principles such as mindfulness. We need to start connecting with our wisdom heritage now. If we don’t, by the time Gelephu Mindfulness City (GMC) begins to materialise, I fear that the message and profundity of mindfulness may be reduced to a cheap corporate motto that we flash at rich people to get them to open their wallets.
His Majesty The King is a beacon of hope for Bhutan and it’s future, tirelessly doing everything in his power to safeguard our people and values. Why else would GMC be in the works? Why else would His Majesty emphasize mindfulness and compassion? Is that not a call for us to revisit and carefully examine our values? I don’t believe His Majesty is simply trying to entice the world with exotic words and ideas. Personally, I take the GMC initiative as a Royal command for us to start learning how to be more mindful and resilient. Life may not be perfect here in our small Kingdom. Yet, in these turbulent times, I feel thankful to have someone remind me that we need to live consciously and compassionately in a world that is being torn apart by war and dwindling resources.
Contributed by
Dawa Dhondup