During times of uncertainty and high stress, burnout can pervade our healthcare systems, research communities – and all of our lives. Tengyur Rinpoche, a leading scholar and teacher in the Buddhist Ministry Initiative, works to bring together contemplative practice and modern psychological inquiry to education. A graduate of Harvard Divinity School and  lifelong practitioner of Buddhism, Rinpoche draws on centuries of Buddhist psychological thought—paired with personal experience and rigorous academic study—to explore the emotional and cognitive roots of human flourishing.

In this interview, Tengyur Rinpoche shares insights from both ancient texts and contemporary research. His approach—rooted in both introspection and scientific dialogue—offers a holistic model for resilience, education, and social wellbeing.

How does your practice as a Buddhist practitioner influence your approach to research and study of the mind?

As a Buddhist practitioner, I see the study of the mind as deeply important. One of the main advantages we have is access to a vast body of Buddhist psychological literature—from the time of the Buddha through the 7th and 8th centuries. This extensive corpus offers profound insights into the mind, often far more developed than what we find in modern Western psychology, which we sometimes say is still in its early stages by comparison.

But beyond the literature, what truly shapes my approach is the tradition of mind training. This is not just about reading or study—it’s about daily practice. As Buddhists, we are trained to integrate these teachings into our lives through meditation and moment-to-moment awareness. We observe our minds closely, analyse our emotional patterns, and test the teachings against our own experience.

A central part of this is the daily meditation routine—brief sessions in the morning and evening. In the morning, we set our motivation, often through compassion and loving-kindness meditations. In the evening, we reflect on the day’s events, examining how we responded to different situations and where we might grow. This rhythm of intention and reflection builds a kind of inner clarity.

When I was studying in the monastic university and later at Harvard Divinity School, I found the contrast between scientific and contemplative methods quite fascinating. Scientific research—especially in psychology and neuroscience—is objective and data-driven. Researchers gather findings from many participants and draw generalized conclusions. As a Buddhist, I approach the same questions from the inside out: I test those conclusions in my own life, through introspection and practice.

This dual approach—scientific analysis and personal inquiry—has deeply enriched my understanding. It allows me to bridge empirical findings with lived experience, making the study of the mind not only a scholarly pursuit but a transformative one.

This dual approach—scientific analysis and personal inquiry—has deeply enriched my understanding. It allows me to bridge empirical findings with lived experience, making the study of the mind not only a scholarly pursuit but a transformative one.

What are the effects of compassion and mindfulness meditation?

I’ll explain this simply by distinguishing meditation and mindfulness, though they are closely connected.

Meditation, from a Buddhist perspective, is a way of turning inward to explore and understand yourself. We often compare the human mind to a jar of muddy water—constantly shaken by daily life. Through meditation, we allow the sediment to settle, revealing the clear water beneath. This settling helps us see what’s truly going on inside—what brings us happiness, what causes suffering, and how our thoughts shape our experience. It offers clarity.

The mind is flooded with countless thoughts every moment—science supports this too—and that mental clutter affects our well-being. But when we sit quietly, let go of distractions, and simply observe, our awareness deepens. That’s the essence of meditation.

Mindfulness is how we carry that clarity into daily life. When we interact with others—at work, in school, in conversation—mindfulness reminds us to stay grounded. It’s that inner voice that says, “Be kind. Don’t react with anger. Stay present.” It helps us act in alignment with the values we cultivate in meditation.

Together, meditation and mindfulness allow us to know ourselves deeply and to engage with the world more skillfully. They offer inner stability—like a form of armor—for body, speech, and mind as we navigate everyday life.

What advice would you give to people seeking to cultivate more meaningful relationships in their lives?

Meaningful relationships are a central part of human life. From the beginning, we’re surrounded by loved ones, and as we grow, we become part of a broader society built on human connection. But we often forget that relationships aren’t destinations—they’re journeys. From the moment they begin, they continue to evolve.

Many people expect that once a relationship is established, whether a friendship or a partnership, it should always be smooth and peaceful. But that’s not realistic. Relationships are ongoing processes shaped by growth, difference, and change.

Each person brings their own thoughts, emotions, and ways of living. Though we share commonalities, we are ultimately distinct individuals trying to come together. As the Indian Buddhist philosopher Dharmakirti said in the 7th century, “You are not a stranger to yourself,” but others remain unknown to us in many ways. We can’t fully grasp what another person is experiencing, no matter how close we are. This means that logic alone cannot resolve every misunderstanding.

So cultivating meaningful relationships requires patience, compassion, and a deep respect for difference. We must accept that ups and downs are natural, not signs of failure. When we hold this awareness from the beginning, we’re better prepared to navigate difficulties without being shaken.

Ultimately, relationships thrive not because they are perfect, but because both people are committed to understanding, growing, and caring—even through imperfection.

Looking ahead, what are the next frontiers or questions you hope to explore in the study of the relationship between mental, emotional, physical, and social wellbeing?

This is a very important and timely question. In recent decades, science has increasingly confirmed what Buddhism has taught for millennia—that mental and emotional states are deeply interconnected with our physical health and social well-being. Numerous studies now show clear links between emotional balance and long-term physical health. But in the Buddhist tradition, this understanding has existed since the time of the Buddha.

When the Buddha taught the Four Noble Truths, he emphasized that we suffer because we misunderstand the true causes of suffering. We often mistake temporary pleasures for lasting happiness, while inner afflictions—like anger and hatred—quietly undermine our wellbeing. These teachings form the foundation of Buddhist psychology, which sees mental clarity and emotional regulation as essential not just for spiritual liberation but also for a healthy life.

Great masters like Shantideva, an 8th-century Indian philosopher and Buddhist monk, elaborated on this, showing how cultivating mental peace positively impacts physical health and even longevity. Yet despite this long-standing wisdom and modern scientific validation, we still tend to prioritize physical wellbeing over mental wellbeing.

So the real frontier is implementation. How do we shift that imbalance? How do we build awareness—especially among younger generations—that mental and emotional health are equally, if not more, vital?

In the coming years, I believe we need to focus on designing practical tools and educational modules that integrate this knowledge into daily life—from early childhood to higher education. The question isn’t whether the connection exists; it’s how to make this understanding part of our collective mindset, embedded in systems and accessible to all.

This, I believe, is the critical task of the next decade.

How do you approach training healthcare educators and professionals to prioritize emotional resilience and connection with their work environment?

One key insight from Buddhist practice is the threefold approach found in most teachings: preparation, actual practice, and conclusion. This structure reminds us that good outcomes begin with proper preparation.

In the context of healthcare and education, we often focus on burnout only after it arises. But emotional resilience must be cultivated in advance. That means integrating emotional awareness and mind training—such as meditation and compassion practices—into professional training programs. For example, alongside technical courses, one class could focus on inner development. This helps professionals build the inner resources needed to face stress before it becomes overwhelming.

Striving for excellence is good, but we must also understand our limits. When expectations don’t match reality, the result is pressure and disappointment. Buddhist practice teaches us to pursue goals with awareness, not attachment.

During active work, what we call the Four Immeasurables—compassion, love, joy, and equanimity—can help foster connection and reduce emotional isolation. Even if the idea of caring for all beings feels too broad, applying these principles in one’s immediate environment creates a sense of belonging and shared purpose. When we see colleagues as equals and treat them with care, we begin to feel part of a community, not apart from it.

Creating this kind of environment—where people feel supported, seen, and connected—is essential. Just as a positive home environment brings comfort, a nurturing workplace can sustain emotional wellbeing. And while individual differences will always exist, narrowing the emotional distance through kindness and shared understanding can transform the workplace into a space of mutual support.

Ultimately, emotional resilience isn’t spontaneous—it’s something we must prepare for and intentionally cultivate.

For those working in high-stress professions, what are some simple evidence-based practices you could recommend for sustaining a sense of purpose and preventing burnout?

I’ve experienced burnout myself and seen it affect many others. From a Buddhist perspective, we look at both the body and the mind—both need care to prevent emotional exhaustion.

The first practice is simple: start the day early and end it early. This encourages quality sleep, which is essential for restoring energy and clarity. Alongside this, we emphasize living one day at a time. Begin each day with a fresh intention, and end it with reflection—acknowledging what went well, what to let go of, and what can be improved. Don’t carry yesterday’s burdens into tomorrow.

Burnout often comes from pressures we cannot control. So it’s important to distinguish between what is within our reach and what isn’t. If something can be changed—act. If not, let it go. This mindset creates balance and reduces unnecessary stress.

Another cause of burnout is unrealistic expectations. Striving for excellence is good, but we must also understand our limits. When expectations don’t match reality, the result is pressure and disappointment. Buddhist practice teaches us to pursue goals with awareness, not attachment.

Finally, one of the most healing practices is compassionate listening. Burnout increases when we internalize stress and isolate ourselves. Sharing what we’re going through—whether with a friend, colleague, or even someone neutral—relieves that weight. The person listening doesn’t need to fix anything; their presence alone helps lighten the burden.

Shantideva reminds us that when we hear others’ struggles, we recognize we are not alone. Practicing compassion for others—and ourselves—creates connection and resilience. In the end, we must remember not to suffer in silence. We heal by sharing.