Blog Article

“Of all places, why would somebody experience burnout in a retreat center where everything is about relaxation and meditation?”
“Oh, another one of those from the retreat center who were not taken care of and did not take care of themselves.”
“It’s your fault. You have to learn to set stronger boundaries.”
“You can’t blame your teacher for this. Ultimately, you are 100% responsible for your situation.”
“Just think of all the merit you accumulated along the way.”
“I am in this auspicious position where I can serve my teacher in this lifetime. Yes, they are demanding and contact me every day – but it’s for the Dharma! Such a blessing!”
“Burnout – yes, that could be me. But how could I change anything about it?”
“If you are close to the fire, you get burned.”

This is a short collection of the different reactions my situation triggered in myself and others. What was your first reaction when reading the title of this article?

For some, the topic of burnout in Dharma communities might feel like a juxtaposition of two words that semantically should not go together, while for others, it might be the elephant in the room. I experienced burnout myself while serving my (then) main Dharma teacher as assistant.

I came to a Tibetan Buddhist retreat center as a young person in my mid-20s, full of energy and enthusiasm for the Dharma. After only a few months of serving as a volunteer at the center, I moved there full-time and became the assistant to the main teacher. Four years later, I left this position with severe burnout, health problems from constant stress and overwork, and was mentally distressed. In the following years, I practiced more mindfulness-based meditation, which helped me to become more present in my body and I thus discovered the full devastating effect of this experience on me. I was able to allow all the feelings of injustice, anger, and disappointment. It did not feel right to leave the position as assistant to a Dharma teacher in a worse mental and physical state than when I started.

While I admit and realize now I came to the center with patterns of low self-esteem, perfectionism, and wanting to please, this led me to work too much and to seek confirmation from outside by performance. And you can be sure that I was told that many times. Numerous times, the fault for my situation was directed back at me by the teacher I served and, to some degree, by community members. Few were the voices pointing out that others, before me, had suffered the same fate and left this position after mere months and that the teacher’s behavior and personality were also contributing to this situation.

The teacher sometimes tried to help by looking for other people to work alongside me and attempted to change their habits. But at the end of the day, it was easier for them to fall back into the familiar pattern of being demanding and of having me take care of most things. They continued to contact me at any hour of the day, any day of the week, during time off or not.

This constellation was made worse by my limited understanding of guru devotion. Because of my ignorance, guru devotion supported my lack of self-confidence, not voicing my needs, not establishing boundaries, and wanting to please. My behavior fitted neatly with the glorified stories of people sacrificing themselves in service for their teachers without any regard for their bodies or mental state. This distorted notion of guru devotion also justified the constant urgency, the many needs and ideas, and the lack of consideration for questions of work organization, planning, and the need for staff rest from the side of the teacher. Rare were the people who had enough self-confidence to say “no” to the teacher. As if it was not already difficult enough to do so, that teacher further did not accept objections easily and usually tried to find a solution to get their way, even if it meant triangulating people. In this pervasive culture of urgency and obedience, rarely could I question if something needed to be done at all.

Throughout the years, I tried to use “pure view” as much as possible to see things in a positive light, to take situations as teachings for myself, and ultimately to try and justify the teacher’s behavior. This helped me endure my work situation longer while retaining a positive work ethic. However, I made the fundamental mistake of not acknowledging my feelings of being emotionally hurt, angry, stressed, and physically exhausted in the first place. As a result, pure view only served to override these feelings – creating an unhealthy dynamic. Ultimately, concepts of pure view and guru devotion maintained a situation where I gave away my power to a person who did not always have my best interest in mind – and, from a superficial understanding of the teachings, it seemed like the right thing to do!

The teacher asked me not to share my struggles with people but rather to talk to them directly when I was feeling particularly overworked. This is one of the main principles of non-violent communication, and I can respect this on many levels. Yet, in this setting, it left me feeling isolated. I was upholding an image and could not share my feelings openly with most of my co-workers and Sangha members. My state of well-being was so intertwined with my life/work as assistant that an honest answer to the question “How are you?” seemed inappropriate and potentially damaging to the teacher’s reputation. Officially, I left my work at the center for health reasons—a partial truth. At the same time, I am convinced that many co-workers and long-time Sangha members were aware of my lack of well-being, were deeply concerned, and were not at all surprised that I left. After all, many other assistants before me had left as well.

These dynamics are familiar to anyone who has been following the various abuse scandals in Dharma organizations and sanghas. In my particular situation, this teacher is aware and critical of the negative dynamics that can be born out of guru devotion, including how guru devotion, when misunderstood, can be the perfect set-up for abuse. Still, a similar dynamic played out. On many levels, it was subtle, and many of the misunderstandings were in the messy grey areas of guru devotion, pure view, and right speech. The abuse was not comparable to the types of abuse highlighted in the headlines of recent years. Still, it was a damaging dynamic and brought me to a point where I have decided not to practice Vajrayana Buddhism for the time being. This should be a warning sign for Buddhist Sanghas and illustrates just how tricky this terrain of guru devotion is to navigate for both teacher and student.

I could have benefitted greatly from more critical conversations and clarifications around guru devotion as part of my onboarding. I was practically new to Vajrayana when I started volunteering at this Dharma center. Guru devotion gets all the more complicated and important to discuss with its many fine details, the closer you are to your teacher. I am now convinced that it is precarious not to talk about guru devotion in all its complexity. More importantly, it needs to be an ongoing process of mentoring and requires senior Sangha members to lead by example and embody the right way of guru devotion. Otherwise, students (like me) are left to their own devices and go to the stories of the lineage, which are solely examples of highly qualified, extraordinary students who have flourished through selfless devotion.

There are no prominent, traditional examples of students who struggled with devotion and grew through their mistakes and misconceptions. I heard these stories in personal conversations with other Dharma practitioners, but too late. Maybe because people did not want to spread rumors or slander their teachers? Or because they had already left the Sangha disenchanted? I know now that stories of “failure” are just as important, and I bow to all the survivors of sexual/power abuse who have been willing to share their stories.

The teacher did apologize to me and is aware of their challenging behaviors and character traits. That’s a start – but the solution cannot rely on somebody changing their character and their habits. Different systems and structures must be set up to protect the employees and volunteers (most of whom are first and foremost Dharma students) from power abuse by Dharma teachers. The work culture of the Dharma organization can be changed. Examples of people establishing boundaries, saying “no,” and taking care of their own needs can be respected and honored, not labeled as people who don’t care about the teacher and community. Speaking out about these issues in the community should not be seen as spreading rumors and slandering the teacher but as opportunities for the growth of the center and the collective practice.

The board of directors and the leadership of this particular Dharma center have tried to establish more structures, organize workflow in a better way, and protect the employees from these dynamics over the last few years. Still, certain positions, like the assistant, the leadership, and other people who work closely with the teacher (the infamous “inner circles”), remain the most exposed and the least protected. For these positions, especially, I would hope that there is an open and critical debate about guru devotion, pure view, notions of service, self-care, and self-confidence. People for these positions need to be chosen extra carefully, not for their obedience and impressionability, but for self-confidence and boundaries.

Too many people have left this center (and probably other centers) disenchanted, exhausted, and disoriented after months or years of service. Dharma organizations need to start addressing the systemic reasons for this. While I can say that I was not mature enough for the position of assistant, there were also no safe structures in place to support my well-being, to check on my workload, and how the teacher (who was also my supervisor) managed me. Ultimately, the teacher breached the trust I put in them as my guru. My projections and expectations might have stemmed from a misunderstanding of the Dharma, but how could I have known being so new “to the club”? I was not mentored enough on how to navigate the tricky waters of guru devotion, and maybe so because it served the teacher.

At the very least, I hope that my story can now serve as an inspiration for Dharma centers and Sanghas to discuss dynamics around work, volunteering, personal boundaries, service to the teacher and the Dharma, and how power, projections, and expectations play into this. Any abuse of power (and it often comes draped in an overwhelming workload than sexual abuse) in a Dharma Center, and especially by teachers, leaves deep marks on students and should not be justified, maintained, or painted in pink colors by any Dharma concept.

* Throughout this article, gender-neutral pronouns are used for this teacher to underline that these dynamics can occur independently of gender and to account for the anonymity of both the author of this article and the teacher in question.

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Below are questions for reflections to help different actors assess the situation at their Dharma Center regarding the problematic dynamics discussed in this article.

If you are a Dharma teacher and especially if you hold a managerial role in the organization, you can ask yourself:

How do I exert power over others?
Am I getting used to being served?
How do I react to people questioning my authority?
Do I take the advice of my senior staff who has responsibility for managing the organization?
Am I a qualified manager? (This is different from being a teacher)
Are there low-level opportunities and structures for my authority and decisions to be questioned and for others to provide feedback to me in a safe way?
Do I see and treat the people working in my center as my employees or as my students most of the time? (The relationship of being your students runs deeper than the employee relationship. I recommend treating them as your students first and foremost) Are the boundaries clear when someone acts as an employee and when someone is in the role of student?

If you are in a leadership role in a Dharma center:

What type of role model am I? Do I take care of myself?
What culture is prevalent in the center? Is it one of self-care or one of self-sacrifice?
Is it OK to question the authority of the teacher/leadership in certain decisions?
How do I handle people who are complaining about the teacher?
What support do I provide to people “closer to the fire”?
Are there any dynamics, patterns, or structures I notice that could be indicative of people being overwhelmed, abused, or stressed, like a high turnover rate?
Does my silence condone abusive power structures?

If you observe somebody working too much:

Am I physically and mentally in a position to provide help?
If not, who can I make aware of this situation and ask to intervene?
If yes, how can I best support this person? How can the hard facts of their situation be changed?

If you are feeling like your work situation is not sustainable:

Who can I share my feelings with safely that will support me?
What do I need to recharge and make this situation sustainable?
How can I get a break?
What expectations and projections do I have of my teacher? Is my teacher truly living up to these? Which projections do I need to let go of to regain control of this situation?
Do I use any Dharma concepts to justify my suffering?
Can this situation be changed and improved in a way that I can stay in this position / at this center or do I need to leave?