Dr Dosti Regmi Blog

Seeing Differently: The Art, Lives, and Health of Six Modern Masters From Monet’s luminous gardens to Picasso’s fractured faces, how personal experience, artistic philosophy, and illness intersected with the making of modern art. A garden dissolves into reflections. A dancer pauses between steps. Friends linger over lunch. Above a sleeping village, the night sky seems to turn. The paintings of Claude Monet, Edgar Degas, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Vincent van Gogh, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, and Pablo Picasso changed how we look at the world. Their work also raises an intriguing question: when an artist’s vision, body, or mental health changes, how might the art change with it? Sometimes the connection is well documented. Sometimes it remains a possibility. And sometimes a compelling medical story distracts us from the artist’s intentions. To understand these painters, we need to consider both their physical circumstances and the ideas that guided their work. From fleeting impressions to ex...

  In Defence of Shila and Samadhi We are often impatient for wisdom. We want to understand reality, see through illusion and arrive at the insight that will finally put our restlessness to rest. We read philosophy, discuss emptiness and collect explanations of awakening. Yet we sometimes neglect the quieter disciplines that make understanding possible: how we live and how we attend. In the Buddhist vocabulary, these disciplines are shila , ethical conduct, and samadhi , collectedness of mind. Alongside them stands prajna , or pragya: wisdom that sees beyond our habitual confusion. My argument is simple: cultivate shila and samadhi, and you prepare the conditions in which prajna can arise. Trying to begin with the highest wisdom while neglecting these conditions is like putting the cart before the horse. A castle needs a foundation It is possible to speak beautifully about compassion while treating people carelessly. We can explain nonattachment while remaining fiercely attached to ...

The Odyssey It took Odysseus ten years to return to Ithaca. Not because the sea was too wide, but because the heart can forget its own home. The Cyclops, crashing storms, the rage of Poseidon, The great dangers were never the greatest delays. A flower was. The lotus asked for nothing. Only this: “Rest. Forget. There is nowhere you need to go.” And memory fell asleep. Circe did not imprison him with chains. She offered warmth, food, companionship. A year passed as quietly as an afternoon. Then, when Ithaca was almost visible, the bag of winds was opened. Not by an enemy— but by curiosity, carelessness and loss of vigilance. Later, hunger overcame wisdom. The cattle of the Sun were slaughtered. One forgotten moment can erase years of patient travel. Calypso offered what every mortal imagines they want— beauty, love, and immortality. Seven years disappeared on an island that looked like paradise. Not every prison has walls. Some are built from comfort. But perha...

 Returning The fawn runs into the meadow, yet never forgets to glance back at the doe and return to her. Thoughts wander into the world. Do not be lost. Remember to return to awareness, to presence. The path is not in wandering, but in remembering home. -Dosti Regmi

The Other Boat Is Empty A Zen story about anger and understanding On a quiet, moonlit night, a man was rowing his little boat across a peaceful river. The stars sparkled above him. The water was still. The only sounds were the gentle splash of his oars and the whisper of the night breeze. It was a perfect night for a peaceful journey.  As he rowed through the darkness, he suddenly noticed another boat drifting straight toward him. He called out, “Hello! Please turn your boat!” But the boat kept coming. He shouted louder, “Watch out! You’re going to hit me!” Still, there was no answer.  The boat drifted closer… and closer… The man’s heart filled with anger. “Can’t you see me?” he shouted. “Why won’t you move your boat?” He was ready to blame the stranger for ruining his peaceful night. With a gentle bump, the two boats touched. The man looked into the other boat— and stopped. There was no one inside. The little boat was completely empty, drifting quietly wherever the river ca...