Dr Dosti Regmi Blog

It was a lazy morning. Lazy mornings bring forward the fierce questions. What is life all about? What did the Buddha realize beneath the Bodhi tree? For a while I sat with these thoughts, watching them pass through the mind. Then a quieter insight arrived: Let me not be a servant of great things, but the lord of small things. Let me not postpone life  until wisdom is complete,  success is certain,  And  enlightenment arrives. Let me wash these dishes. So I did the dishes. I unplugged the sink outlet. The sink emptied. The plates shone. The mind grew quiet. There is nothing more satisfying than done dishes. — Dosti Regmi

Your Mind Is Not Your Enemy What Modern Neuroscience and Mindfulness Teach Us   By Dr. Dosti Regmi Many people share a similar concern. "My mind won't stop." "I think too much." "My thoughts are my biggest problem." "My mind is my enemy." As both a physician and a mindfulness practitioner, I understand this experience well. But over the years, I have come to believe something surprising: The mind is not your enemy. Even the most anxious mind, the most depressed mind, the most distracted mind is usually trying to help. The problem is not that the mind is broken. The problem is that the mind often uses outdated survival strategies in a world that has changed. To understand why mindfulness works, we first need to understand what the brain is trying to do. --- The Brain's Primary Job The human brain evolved for one main purpose: Keep you alive. Not make you happy. Not make you peaceful. Not make you enlightened. Keep you alive. For hundreds o...

Smartly Dumb, Dumbly Smart There are days when I have been the wisest person alive. At least in my own mind. Every answer seemed obvious, every opinion felt profound, every path appeared clear. And there are days when I have been the greatest fool. Not necessarily in the eyes of others, but within myself. The same mind that built castles of certainty yesterday wanders lost in fog today. So how shall I trust it? How do I know whether a thought is intelligent or merely dressed in intelligence? How do I know whether a doubt is ignorance or the beginning of wisdom? The possibility remains: That I may be dumbly smart— clever enough to deceive myself. Or smartly dumb— humble enough to know I do not know. The mind wears many masks. One day it speaks as a philosopher, another day as a fool. One day it conquers the world, another day it cannot find its own way home. And so I ask myself: Why be carried away by either smartness or stupidity? Why build a throne from praise or a p...

  Everyone lives life inside a pair of shoes. Some shoes are dusty, some are polished. Some are new, some are old. But where the shoe pinches, where it hurts inside, only the one wearing it knows.

  I had an even better poem in my mind, but I settled for this one. Beauty is not spoken of. Beauty is not written. Beauty is embodied. मेरो मनमा अझै राम्रो कविता थियो, तर मैले त्यसलाई शब्द दिइनँ। सौन्दर्य बोलिँदैन, सौन्दर्य लेखिँदैन, सौन्दर्य मात्र बाँचिन्छ।

 

  The Wandering Mind Three Stories About How We Lose Ourselves There is a peculiar habit of the human mind: It rarely leaps into trouble all at once. More often, it wanders. One thought leads to another, one desire gives birth to the next, and one solution quietly creates a new problem. Before we realize it, we find ourselves far from where we originally intended to go. Ancient spiritual traditions understood this tendency long before psychology and neuroscience gave it names. Two stories—one from the Hindu monastic tradition and one from Zen Buddhism—offer timeless insights  into the wandering nature of the mind, its distractions and compulsions.   The monk and the loincloth: The first story tells of a monk who lived alone in a forest hut. His possessions were few: a begging bowl, a water pot, and a single loincloth. His life was simple and devoted to meditation, prayer, and silence. One day, however, a rat chewed holes in his loincloth. Annoyed by the recurr...

After a great storm, thousands of fish lay stranded upon the wet sand of the beach. The waves had withdrawn, leaving them gasping beneath the open sky. The shore stretched for miles, covered with helpless flickering bodies. A woman walked quietly along the beach. Every few steps she bent down, picked up a fish gently in her hands, and threw it back into the ocean. A man watching from afar approached her with disbelief. “Why are you doing this?” he asked. “There are thousands of them. You cannot possibly save them all. What you are doing makes no difference.” The woman listened silently. Then she bent down once more, lifted another struggling fish, and released it into the sea. As the fish disappeared into the water, she smiled softly and replied, “It mattered to this one.” We often dream of changing the whole world. We chase great ambitions, grand achievements, and monumental victories. Yet life is not built only upon extraordinary acts. It is shaped quietly, almost invisibly,...

  आजको यो साँझ आजको यो साँझ साँझकै रूपमा बिताऊँ। यहाँ समाचार नथपौँ, दुनियाँका हल्ला र हलचल यही ढोकाबाहिर छोडिदिऊँ। रक्सीको प्याला नथपौँ , क्षणभरको बिर्साइको सहारा नखोजूँ, यसै चेतनाको स्वादमा मस्त भई बसूँ। हिजो नथपौँ , पुराना घाउ र पश्चात्तापहरू फेरि नकोट्याऊँ। भोलि नथपौँ , आशा र चिन्ताका अधुरा महलहरू अहिले नबनाऊँ। पर्सि पनि नथपाऊँ, अझ नआएका दिनहरूको भार यो साँझमाथि नबिसाऊँ। कथा नथपौँ , कविता नथपौँ , शब्दहरूले पनि यस मौनतालाई नढाकौँ। सङ्गीत नथपौँ , हावाको सुस्केरा, टाढाको चराको पुकार, र आफ्नै श्वासको लय पर्याप्त छन्। आजको यो साँझ साँझकै रूपमा बिताऊँ। आकाशलाई आकाश हुन दिऊँ, तारालाई तारा हुन दिऊँ, अँध्यारोलाई बिस्तारै ओर्लिन दिऊँ। म पनि कुनै भूमिका, कुनै परिचय, कुनै सफलता वा असफलता बिना, केवल यही साँझजस्तै साँझमै रहिदिऊँ। English Translation This Evening Let this evening be spent simply as an evening. Let me add no news, leaving the noise and commotion of the world outside this door. Let me add no glass of wine, seeking no brief refuge i...

पनौती  म खुसी हुनै सकिन मलाई पनौती परेको छ जति चाहेर पनि म खुसी हुनै सकिन ठुलेले ले घरबार गुमायो तैपनि ऊ खुसी छ उसले त्रिपालमुनि खुसी हुन पनि जानेको छ माइलाको जहान उसलाई छोडेर गई तैपनि ऊ खुसी छ उसले एक्लै खुसी हुन जानेको छ साइँलाको छोरो उसलाई ठ्याम्मै टेर्दैन तैपनि ऊ खुसी छ उसले कसैबाट केही पनि अपेक्षा नराख्न जानेको छ अन्तरेलाई साँझ बिहान छाक टार्नै मुस्किल छ ऊ त बडो भाग्यमानी छ भोलिको बारेमा उसलाई सोच्नै पर्दैन जन्तरेलाई राजनीतिले पोल्दै पोल्दैन ऊ खुसी छ किनकि न उसलाई समाचार पढ्नु छ न रेडियो सुन्नु छ भन्छौ नि तिमीसँग त घरबार आफ्नो आफन्त गाँस बास सबै छ तैपनि तिमी किन खुसी छैनौ सब थोक भएर पनि म खुसी छैन खै के हो के हो मलाई यस्तै पनौती परेको छ

All of my life, I bled. From the sharp edges of trauma, that I held.

In Spite Of Two joys walk this earth. The first lives because of — a shadow cast by passing light, bound to the shifting wind The second lives in spite of— a lotus blooming in the mud, quiet, untethered, and free. The first is a visitor. The second is home.

  बुद्ध, म कसरी समभाव राखौँ, प्रिय र अप्रियप्रति? यदि समभावमै अल्झिरहेको भए, किन ढुङ्गाको अँध्यारो कापबाट उज्यालो खोज्दै उम्रन्थ्यो होला यो पिपल? माटो खोज्दै किन फैलाउँथ्यो होला जराहरू यति पर-परसम्म? ​म पिपलमा आफैँलाई देख्छु, आफैँमा पिपललाई देख्छु, तिमीलाई देख्छु, उनलाई देख्छु।

  हर दिन अखबारका हेडलाइनहरू फेरिन्छन्। तर मलाई केही फरक पर्दैन। ​घामको न्यानो स्पर्श उही छ, बिहानको जुरेली, दिउँसोको कोइली र  रातको झ्याउँकिरीको गीत उही छ।

  सन्ध्याकालीन बार्दलीको बसाइ ताराहरू उदाउँछन्, आकाश छपक्कै ताराले भरिन्छ। र्योकान भिक्षुको कुटीमा एक दिन  चोरी भएछ। झ्यालबाट जूनतिर हेरिरहे भिक्षु, मुस्कुराउँदै बिस्तारै भने— “सबै थोक त लग्यो उसले, तर यो जून लान भने बिर्सेछ…” Inspired by Ryōkan

Ryōkan  — the Gentle Zen poet-monk Ryōkan was a Japanese Zen monk, poet, and calligrapher born in 1758 in present-day Niigata, Japan. Born into a respected family, he was expected to take on social responsibilities, but from an early age he felt drawn toward solitude, contemplation, and spiritual life. As a young man, he left home and entered the Sōtō Zen tradition founded by Dōgen , studying under the Zen master Kokusen . After years of monastic training, Ryōkan chose a life of wandering and simplicity rather than religious status or temple leadership. He lived in small huts, begged for food, spent long periods in nature, and became known for his humility, kindness, and childlike spirit. Village children loved him because he played with them sincerely and without superiority. Ryōkan eventually settled in a small hermitage called Gogo-an, where he spent much of his later life writing poetry, practicing calligraphy, meditating, and living in poverty with remarkable contentment. His ...

हारना तब आवश्यक हो जाता है जब लड़ाई "अपनों" से हो ! और जीतना तब आवश्यक हो जाता है जब लड़ाई "अपने आप " से हो ! ! मंजिले मिले , ये तो मुकद्दर की बात है हम कोशिश ही न करे ये तो गलत बात है किसी ने बर्फ से पूछा कि, आप इतने ठंडे क्यूं हो ? बर्फ ने बडा अच्छा जवाब दिया :- " मेरा अतीत भी पानी; मेरा भविष्य भी पानी..." फिर गरमी किस बात पे रखूं । हरिवंशराय बच्चन

  Living in Two Worlds: What Aldous Huxley Meant by the “Amphibian Called Man” In the foreword to Jiddu Krishnamurti ’s work, Aldous Huxley drops a line that feels almost poetic—and a little puzzling at first: Man, the amphibian, lives in two worlds: the given and the word-represented. It’s one of those sentences that quietly opens a door. Step through it, and you begin to see how much of your life is lived not in reality, but in your idea of reality. The World as It Is Let’s start with the “given” world. This is the world before words get involved. The immediacy of experience: the warmth of sunlight on your skin the sound of rain hitting a window the raw sensation of anxiety in your chest the simple act of seeing a tree There is no interpretation here—just perception. No story, no label, no past or future. Just what is . Krishnamurti pointed to this constantly: the possibility of encountering life directly, without the interference of accumulated thought. The World...

  जब मैले तिम्रो हात समाई तिम्रो मंगल, सुख, खुसी र शान्ति को कामना गरेको थिएँ। मलाई यस्तो लागेको थियो, कसैले मलाइनै स्पर्श गरेर, मेरै मनमा मधुर भरोसा र सहस भरेको थियो। तिम्रा ती कोमल हातहरू, सधैंभरि श्रद्धा, प्रेम र समर्पणले चुमिरहन पाऊँ।

म जन्मेको घाम, जुन, तारा, हिमाल र बादल हेर्नलाई । म जन्मेको धुलोमा खेल्न र पानीमा पखालिन लाई । स्वादको पारखी म , गुलियो, नुनिलो, पिरो, अमिलो चाख्न लाई । दुनिया र दिमाग मौरीझैं घुनघुनाई रहन्छन्, म जन्मेको चरा, हावा, झरना, र खोलालाई सुन्न लाई ।   I was born to behold the sun, the moon, the stars, mountains, and the drifting clouds. Born to play with dust and be washed by water. Born to savor life— sweet, salt, hot, and sour.  While the world and mind buzz like restless bees, I remind myself, I was also born to listen— to birdsong, to wind, to waterfalls, to the ancient speech of rivers.

Journaling is less about producing profound insight every day and more about developing an ongoing relationship with your own mind. Comprehensive Journaling Prompt List Daily Grounding Prompts: What is my mood ( 0-10) How am I feeling right now, physically and emotionally? What is taking up the most mental space today? What is one realistic priority for today? What would make today feel meaningful, even if imperfect? Anxiety and Overthinking Prompts: What am I worried will happen? What evidence supports this fear, and what evidence challenges it? Am I catastrophizing, mind-reading, or assuming certainty? What is actually within my control right now? If my fear came true, how would I cope? What am I avoiding by overthinking? Depression / Low Motivation Prompts: What feels hardest right now? What small action would help me feel 5% better? What have I stopped doing that used to help? What am I telling myself about my worth today? What would compassion look like today? What is one...

Beyond Answers: Returning to the Wisdom of Wonder The merit gained in a single day by one who possesses higher perception cannot be gained even in a hundred lifetimes by one without it. We live in a culture obsessed with finding answers. We treat existence like a riddle to be unraveled, a puzzle with a final piece waiting to be found. But reality does not come to you in the form of an answer. It never has, and it never will. It is simply not in the nature of things. Instead, reality reveals itself only when there are no questions left—when you finally arrive at an unquestioning state of awareness. When questioning ceases, a totally new quality enters your consciousness. That quality is wonder. Questioning is an aggressive effort to demystify existence. It is a refusal to accept the raw mystery of life. By reducing mystery to a mere "problem to be solved," we falsely believe that once we find the answer, the mystery will be gone. Wondering is not questioning; it is the ultimat...

Life is often interrupted by the search for truth, for enlightenment, for ultimate realization imagined as single, complete, final. But only death holds such stillness. Life remains— raw, divided, scattered, unfinished and always evolving, always renewing, always afresh. It's not its flaw, But it's law.

The "don't know" mind What am I telling myself? What is this sensing inside? These words are empty, These feelings are empty. Go away, my elite minds—  Disappear. I surrender to the "don't know" mind.

  We carry winters in our bones. I am wounded by your wounds. I will hold your fragility— quietly, even if not perfectly. I have no haste to understand, nor to heal— only to hold, and make you feel safe, until you soften and melt.  

There are moments that arrive without announcement—quiet, unearned. Walking toward the library, nothing special was being sought. No insight, no resolution, no spiritual breakthrough. Just movement. And then I saw a tree in bud, another tree with fresh shoots. A new leaf in early spring. I touched it. Not an idea of renewal, natural cycles, not a metaphor yet— just softness under the fingertips. Something tender, alive, unguarded. Then the tulips, standing with their quiet dignity. And the agelia—its pattern revealing itself without effort: five petals, two apart, three closer, a subtle symmetry holding itself together. Patterns within the petals—so precise, yet so effortless. .  This was not to be understood. It was not given to be interpreted, analyzed, or turned into meaning. It asked for nothing except to be seen, touched, and allowed. The mind, so used to converting everything into language, into insight, into something “useful,” found itself unnecessary.  Becaus...

How can I fix it if it was never broken? You search for meaning— and call it a lack. You try to fix— and call yourself broken. You keep walking, striving— as if arrival were somewhere else. You keep searching— as if arrival were somewhere else. But deep within, There is something untouched— unbreakable, self-sufficient, eternal arrival, a quiet, radical presence that does not move, yet holds all movement. Let these small searches, these passing problems, not disturb that stillness. Life will rise and fall— as it must. So fail—beautifully. Break—beautifully. Be lost—beautifully. Let things pass without the urge to fix, to fill, to replace, to improve. A feeling comes— burns— and fades. They last but moments. What lingers is the thought that follows, the grasping that sustains it. Do not weave stories around fleeting storms.   The first pain arrives uninvited— The second is chosen, self-inflicted second dart - Buddha says.  So let it be. Let it pass. And rest— not in becomi...