Acknowledge it: embarking on the multifaceted quest for self-discovery often proves a demanding and circuitous endeavour. It seems clear at any onset that personal transformation rarely unfolds smoothly. My own history—let alone the wider chronicle—is populated with examples, me included, of Western Buddhist contemplative practitioners who confidently assumed, sometimes correctly, that meditative practices offered a reliable remedy for a comprehensive spectrum of negative emotional states. Years upon decades passed; and despite committed practice, I now recognize that this conception was flawed, to put it euphemistically. The harsh reality: after decades of allegiance to Buddhist traditions diligently prescribed in authoritative foundational texts, numerous practitioners grapple with ongoing existential hardships—the very adverse states of being they supposedly mitigated. This unending turmoil emphasizes the virtue of challenging time-tested conventionality and thoroughly scrutinizing every assumption embedded within those elemental texts of guidance.

As I have come to realize, collective conviction still holds sway: that teachers who have attained spiritual enlightenment should be emotionally extinguished. There’s a supposed dichotomy—intuitive only — between intellect and emotion, postulating that spiritual insight is best achieved within a vacuum devoid of feeling. This idea resonates with the wise words attributed to Tibetan Buddhism and quoted from the erudite and distinguished Professor of Tibetan Buddhist Studies, Robert Thurman: “The supreme teacher exists three mountain passes away.” If genuinely profound wisdom deserves a pilgrimage of toil, the promise grows luminous. That wise observation enshrines a profound appreciation for the unbridgeable distance, recognizing that the most noble insights emerge when students labour with genuine intent.