I’m an optimistic person. But deep inside all optimists, there’s a bound-and-gagged pessimist sitting in the basement beneath a bare light bulb struggling to get out. 

If we don’t deconstruct our lives and learn to be more earthbound and Earth-friendly and sustainable, and try to live with all God’s creatures—even if they’re not big-eyed and behind bars in a zoo or on our screensavers—then, sooner than expected, we’ll be forced to do so: through political mandate or economic reality or from the overuse of our resources. Or worse.

I think it’s time for us to metaphorically reach for our pitchforks. The stakes couldn’t be higher.

I’m no different to any one of you reading this. As I wake up each morning, always in the back of my mind is the weight of a handful of potentially life-threatening disasters. We’re all cognizant beings on this bus careening into the unknown, with climate change producing catastrophic weather patterns, the possibility of a nuclear winter courtesy of the mad American-who-would-be-king, pandemics, wars . . . what else? Never mind, you get the picture.

The terrible flood in Nepal that wrought destruction on the morning of 26 August was a wake up call for us in Bhutan. I can’t stop thinking about the lovely Nepalese people starting their day, much like any other, then suddenly having their lives literally washed away. 

Rasuwa District on the northern border with Tibet was inundated with several million tonnes of mud, debris, water, and rocks that either came out of part of a fractured glacier or a subsequent landslide from the fragile earth underneath, or most probably both. People, animals, farms, houses, schools, and bridges were swept away as all hell broke loose upon these unlucky souls of Nepal. 

My heart is still aching. The death count is so far 1,454, with 5,285 still missing. Nepal lost something like 900 people in 12 hydro-electric projects under construction. A whole generation of engineers entombed. 

That evening, looking at my phone I saw a horrific wave of flotsam destroy the seven-story Chinese border station where devotees go to begin their pilgrimages to Mount Kailash and Tibet. I rushed to show my husband Namgay after I confirmed that it came from a trusted news source: Tenzing Lamsang in The Bhutanese newspaper. It wasn’t AI or the trailer for a new disaster movie. Such is the current state of our world. 

I’m doing a lot of bargaining these days. So is everyone in Bhutan. Himalayan river valleys are almost ground zero for climate change disasters involving melting glaciers. So in my bargaining, I estimate that Bhutan is better off thanks to its 70 per cent forest cover. Having trees is better, right? But I don’t know if that matters because trees can be uprooted and pushed through valleys by floods.

Parts of Nepal now look like moonscapes. Nepal’s government has sold off most of their natural resources. If you look at the videos of the flood, it’s stark how few trees there are. Kathmandu is seriously polluted, and pollution makes glacial ice black, which makes it melt faster. A friend from Nepal told me that the deities were angry with Nepal for not being good stewards of the Earth—for selling off resources and for commercializing Mount Everest, the holiest of mountains in Tibetan Buddhism, upon which around 200 dead bodies (so far) remain to defile it. 

Thank heavens Bhutan doesn’t allow its mountains to be climbed. The government of Nepal, which has historically been ineffectual for its people and wildly corrupt, is trying to clean up its act with a new 38-year-old prime minister, a former rapper. But to clean up the government and attached bureaucracy will take some heavy lifting. 

With 200+ years of precedents, it’s common knowledge that Nepal’s government is woefully corrupt. It’s 109th out of 180 on Transparency International’s Corruption Perceptions Index (Bhutan ranks 18th out of 182 as of 2025). Nepal probably received a bit of money to set up early warning systems for the melting glaciers, but likely the resources were funneled into VIP pockets. The systems failed or were non existent—the ice had been shifting for weeks.

In Bhutan, we’ve hit the ground running. We long ago identified 17 of more than 600 glacial lakes at risk of bursting and sending thousands of tonnes of water and debris onto our sparse mountain settlements. As the planet warms, ice melts and more lakes form at an alarming rate. A few years ago there were 500-something lakes. They’re growing fast. 

The immediate focus is Thorthormi in Lunana. A team there is busy trying to slowly drain the lake. They tried a year or two ago but weren’t successful. Now they’re making another run at it with new knowledge and equipment, and we’re praying to Guru Rinpoche and hoping for the best. 

A worst-case Thorthormi burst could see a peak flow of 16,360 cubic meters per second of debris. I realize this is an incomprehensible concept, but that would probably cover 1,277 buildings and the people in them, lots of animals, and 245 hectares of farmland. It would hit Punakha Dzong, 90 kilometers downstream, with hundreds of monks inside sacred temples, about six hours later.

The Punatsangchhu Hydroelectric Project would be hit after that. It would be game over for Bhutan, as much of the hydropower Bhutan exports to India comes from there. Hydropower accounts for 12–15 per cent of Bhutan’s GPD. The station would have to be rebuilt, if that’s even possible.

Bhutan has always been good at observing the neighborhood and absorbing lessons, and our unfortunate friends in Nepal are teaching us an urgent lesson. 

At present, there’s a network of 10 monitoring stations across northern Bhutan, with 18 sirens that can sound the alarm for breeches and floods—but only after they start. We need more. There’s work underway to make a predictive forecast-based early-warning system that would flag breeches that could occur from rainfall and temperature changes via webcams, underwater pressure probes on lake floors, and radar gauges on rivers to track level changes continuously. A Swiss company, Geopraevent, does this and the Swiss are the leaders in this technology.

The Glacier Lake Stewardship Program (or the GLSP, because we love acronyms in Bhutan), launched by the Swiss Polar Institute in Sion, recently held its first workshop in Thimphu. They brought together experts from the prestigious Swiss École Polytechnique Fédérale de Lausanne and Swiss Polar Institute researchers, together with Bhutan’s National Centre for Hydrology and Meteorology alongside the Kathmandu-based International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development. The meeting produced both long-term answers and short-term action plans, and began a collaboration between Switzerland and Bhutan for this particular problem. The two countries have a long-standing relationship: Switzerland was the first country to give aid to Bhutan in the 1950s, privately, through the industrialist Fritz von Schulthess.

But this is a bit of good news.

Bhutanese glaciologist Karma Toeb has remarked: “We [Bhutanese] are not contributing anything to the impact of climate change, but still we have to face this burden.” Indeed, Bhutan is such a good steward of the Earth, it is carbon negative—Bhutan absorbs more CO2 into the atmosphere than it emits.

Believe it or not, if you’re still with me in this slightly depressing missive, please know that I do have hope! The pessimist is still in the basement but I believe we’ll reach higher ground. 

As if to confirm where I’m going with this little essay, as I sit here in Thimphu writing on a beautiful fall morning, Namgay is making an unbelievable racket in the kitchen. I see large chunks of wood all over the floor, and the cabinet doors open under the stove. 

He’s trying to raise the level of our granite countertop and shows me where it’s sinking—bowing, in fact. Against the wall, where the granite countertop meets the tile backsplash, there’s a two-centimeter trench. In the years we’ve been here the level has dropped because we store heavy gas cylinders inside the cabinets. Namgay has three big planks wedged with wooden blocks under the cabinets, and he’s ant-like in his diligence as he shoves wooden blocks under the cabinets to raise them. This has actually raised the granite counters.

Suddenly I think of Voltaire’s Candide and its message: theories can excuse disasters; a garden can feed people. “We must cultivate our garden.” 

It’s not the best of all possible worlds, so we work with what we have. I hear myself tell myself: 

Let go of the story you want and work with what you have. Think every day of the Noble Eightfold Path, and especially right livelihood and right action. Do ordinary, daily things, fully and well, and carry that over into how you treat others. 

Letting that be the practice and focusing on daily tasks, on sowing our gardens, feels instinctively the way to go. It isn’t a retreat from the world’s problems; it’s a way to be compassionate and do for others, to have solidarity with others.

So, in summary: pray that all sentient beings can reach higher ground. Cultivate your garden. And try to have Swiss friends. 

And remember: decay is inherent in all compounded things. Work out your salvation with diligence.

Let the deconstruction begin.

Related features from BDG

Buddhistdoor View: Unity Over Division Amid the Nepal-Tibet Floods

Related news reports from BDG

Engaged Buddhism: KPC Buddhist Relief Launches “Share the Love” Campaign for Nepal Flood Survivors
Engaged Buddhism: JTS Volunteers Deliver Relief to 800 Households After Nepal Flood
Dalai Lama Offers Condolences as Nepal and Tibet Struggle with Aftermath of Devastating Flash Flood

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