When the path feels distant, time itself can become a way home.
A reflection on how the Nyingma tradition transforms time itself into a path of practice, offering reassurance and accessibility through the monthly return of the tenth day.
Many Buddhist practitioners today share a quiet sense of inadequacy. They feel they lack the time, discipline, resources, or ideal conditions to practice “properly.” Life is busy, attention is fragmented, and traditional images of long retreats or elaborate rituals often feel far removed from everyday reality.
The Nyingma tradition of Tibetan Buddhism offers a different response to this dilemma. Rather than asking practitioners to do more, it reshapes time itself into a path of practice.
sAt the center of this approach is the tenth day of the lunar month (Tsechu), closely associated with Guru Rinpoche (Padmasambhava).
In Nyingma communities, the tenth day is understood as a time when practice becomes unusually accessible:
On this day, acts such as:
This understanding is rooted in Terma, or “treasure teachings,” which according to tradition were intentionally hidden by Guru Rinpoche and Yeshe Tsogyal to be revealed in times of need.
One Terma text, “The Benefits of the Tenth Day that Clears All Suffering,” speaks directly to practitioners who feel overwhelmed or unqualified. Its message is simple and disarming:
Practice does not need to be perfect. It needs to be sincere—and it needs a place to land.
The tenth day returns each month as a quiet reminder that the path has not disappeared, even when confidence wavers.
In the Terma tradition, Guru Rinpoche is not a distant historical figure. He appears as an ongoing, responsive presence, especially attuned to moments when practitioners feel discouraged, uncertain, or disconnected from formal practice.
His compassion is described in relational terms—like a parent who cannot ignore the cry of a child. This image does not promise miracles. It offers reassurance.
The tenth day reframes practice in ways that resonate with modern life:
For many contemporary practitioners whose lives unfold in kitchens, offices, and crowded cities, this matters deeply. The teachings surrounding the tenth day seem to anticipate exactly this kind of life.
What emerges is a form of practice that emphasizes:
Practice becomes something one returns to, again and again, rather than something to be perfected.
The tenth day also carries an ethical invitation. Practitioners are encouraged to:
In this way, the observance quietly shapes a moral rhythm. Awakening and care for others are not treated as separate paths, but as mutually supporting.
The quiet power of the tenth day lies in its modesty. It does not demand heroic effort or extraordinary circumstances. Instead, it offers a reliable moment of return.
A reminder that practice can begin again
Exactly where one is
With whatever conditions are present
When time itself becomes practice, the path no longer feels distant.
It arrives – patiently, gently – every month.
GIAO LONG MONASTERY
GIAO LONG MONASTERY
GIAO LONG MONASTERY
GIAO LONG MONASTERY