Dr Dosti Regmi Blog

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...

   The Barking Dog Long ago, at the edge of a quiet little village, there lived a brown dog. Every morning, he barked at everyone who walked by. “Woof! Woof! Woof!” Children hurried away. Grown-ups shook their heads. “There goes that mean old dog again,” they whispered. No one wanted to come close. But no one knew the whole story. One evening, as the golden sun slipped behind the hills, the dog lay down beneath a tree. His barking became softer. You see, hidden beneath the tall grass was an old iron trap. It held tightly onto his leg. Every time he tried to move… it hurt. Every time someone came near… he became frightened. So he barked. Not because he was angry. Not because he wanted to scare anyone. He barked because he was hurting. It was the only way he knew how to say, “Please… somebody help me.” Many people passed by. Some frowned. Some complained. Some hurried away. None of them stopped long enough to notice the trap. Until one quiet af...

There is burden in my heart when I meet you, and I know I love you. I wish I could only give lightness to you. There is bondage in my heart when I meet you, and I know I love you. I wish I could give freedom to you. But I cannot give you what I myself do not have. And in that letting go— of my burden and my bondage— I am loving you more than myself.

I do not own anything. Things only pass through my hands. For a while, I hold them, and for a while, they hold me. Then they go, as all rivers go. I am here not to possess, but to savor. I know the universe owes me no final meaning, no hidden answer wrapped in stars. I have my regrets I have my fears. Yet still, with these small feet, I walk toward my own— meaning and values. My mind worries— oh, how it worries— building storms from shadows, asking tomorrow for certainty. Teach me instead to work on what can be done, to accept what cannot be changed, and grant me the wisdom to know one from the other. May I be peaceful. May I be calm. May good things happen to me. May all of us be peaceful. May all of us be calm. May good things happen to all of us. — Dosti Regmi

  Session 1: Understanding Anxiety, Stress, and Burnout Main Insight Most people believe: “I am anxious because there is danger.” But often the truth is: “My brain predicts danger even when danger is uncertain.” Anxiety is not a character flaw. It is a protective prediction system that has become overactive. It's just like a false alarm system that rings without fire. Neuropsychology Three major brain systems are involved: 1. Amygdala The brain’s smoke detector. Scans for threat Activates fear response Works faster than conscious thinking In chronic anxiety it becomes hypersensitive. 2. Prefrontal Cortex (PFC) The CEO of the brain. Functions: Planning Reasoning Perspective Emotional regulation Stress decreases PFC effectiveness. 3. HPA Axis Hypothalamus → Pituitary → Adrenal glands Produces: Cortisol Adrenaline Helpful short term. Harmful when chronically activated. Burnout Neuropsychology Burnout is not simply being tired. Research suggests burnout ...

On a mountain trail in the Himalayas, in Langtang, I stop beside and watch. In the middle of the forest, Beneath a tree a deer stands. breathing and basking in sun, nothing more. A thousand greens appear in a single tree. Clouds drift without destination. The river remembers no map.  — Dosti Regmi

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.