Someone else more spiritually attuned or more open might have recognized the dreamlike nature of that moment and awakened from this life’s deep sleep of ignorance. But for me the sight of Khenpo’s nakedness simply exposed my own uptightness and undue concern as the host of my teacher’s teacher to “do the right thing.” I relaxed gratefully.

I had purchased a one-way ticket to Nepal. Despite a conscientious effort to leave America with all i’s dotted and t’s crossed, it felt more like I just grabbed a toothbrush and left town the way someone might walk out of a faltering marriage—exhausted, harboring no ill feelings, wanting no material settlement, only a fresh start. Living tongue-tied among Tibetans during my initial months in Boudha was maddening, but it was utterly delightful to be free of my New York worldly routine.