Yesterday, I came across a comment by Tenzin Peljor on the Beyond the Temple blog that stopped me in my tracks. It wasn’t flashy or dramatic, but it hit me deeply because it spoke to something I’ve wrestled with for years. He wrote:
“As I have learned over the years, qualities and limitations, even profound ones, can coexist. The former do not cancel the latter, nor the latter, the former.”
It’s such a simple statement, but it carries a weight that can be hard to hold. Especially for those of us who’ve been part of spiritual communities where the teacher—the person we trusted—turned out to have a dark side.
The Reflex to Reject
When I first left Rigpa, the Tibetan Buddhist organization led by Sogyal Rinpoche, I felt like my world had split in two. On one side were the profound teachings I’d received— the education on Buddhism in its many facets, careful guidance through practices like shamatha and vipassyana, the glimpses into the nature of mind — and the deep sense of connection to the sangha. On the other side was the undeniable truth of Sogyal’s abuse: the manipulation, the harm he caused to his closest students, and the way the community failed to address it with any kind of integrity or genuine compassion.
It’s natural, isn’t it, to want to simplify things? To say, “If this person did terrible things, then everything they taught must be terrible too.” It’s easier to reject it all than to sit with the contradictions. But life isn’t that simple.
The Tension Between Good and Bad
What Tenzin’s comment reminded me of is how hard it is to hold both truths at once. Sogyal Rinpoche was a deeply flawed, sometimes abusive man. But he was also a teacher who transmitted the teachings of Tibetan Buddhism with care to be true to the lineage. He could click his fingers and shift into a mode where he seemed to channel the wisdom of his own masters. And in those moments, he gave us something real.
But as soon as the teaching ended, he was just … unkind and mentally unstable. A tragic figure who caused profound harm.
It’s tempting to let one truth cancel out the other. To say, “Because he was abusive, the teachings must be worthless.” Or, conversely, “Because the teachings were so powerful, the abuse must not matter.” But neither of those positions reflect the reality of the situation. Sogyal benefited some and harmed others. Some experienced only harm, others only benefit, some a mix of both.
My Experience of Holding Both
After the abuse came to light, those of us who left Rigpa faced a difficult task: sifting through the wreckage to figure out what was worth keeping. It wasn’t easy. The good and the bad were both so extreme that it felt almost impossible to hold them together in the same mind.
And to make it even harder to hold both, sometimes if I said something positive about my experience of having Sogyal as my teacher, others immediately assumed that I thought the abuse was okay. They accused me of apologising for him, which I was not and never have done. His behaviour was inexcusable as far as I’m concerned. And, on the other side, if I expressed my disgust with what he’s done, people assumed that meant that I saw nothing good in my experience at all.
This is why I haven’t written on this before – and I expect I’ll get some flack for it now. I hope people read it fully and with an open mind before reacting!
Our human minds seem to find it hard to hold both sides of a situation. People immediately want to label you friend of enemy, or a follower of this camp or that. What about holding both sides of a situation without allowing one side to cancel out the other? Isn’t that more in tune with how things actually are?
And isn’t that the middle way? What the Buddha taught. In Buddhist terms, the middle way is about recognizing that though everything is empty of inherent essence, those things also exist. They may not be solid in the way we think they are, but they still function in a world of cause and effect. They have effects. And those effects matter.
For me, the middle way in this situation means acknowledging that Tibetan Buddhism offers profound benefits—practices like Mahamudra and Dzogchen that can transform lives—but also it carries an enormous risk of manipulation and abuse due to cultural and religious structures left over from feudal times. And neither truth cancels the other.
Not an Excuse for a Lack of Discernment
I feel I need to clarify another point here as well, and that’s that this idea can be used as an excuse for not discerning right from wrong, but that’s not what I’m talking about here. I heard people say – in a very holy manner – that they weren’t making a decision about Sogyal’s abuse, but holding both the possibility that it did and that it didn’t happen. That’s not the middle way, that’s a cop out to absolve you of the moral responsibility of discerning right behaviour from wrong behaviour.
The Buddha was quite clear that his first precept was ‘do no harm’, and clearly Sogyal (and many other lamas) harmed people. Those who found it hard to make that discernment in this religious setting had their moral sense distorted by dogma they subscribed to around the student teacher relationship.
What I’m talking about is knowing that a person caused both harm and benefit, not failing to discern the difference.
And Let’s Not Get the Absolute and Relative Mixed Up
Some will likely say, ‘Oh, but good and bad don’t really exist.’ And if I say, ‘Yes, they do,’ they will likely start spouting dzogchen teachings about going beyond good and bad.
Reality is non-dual, they’ll say. As if that solves everything, including absolving them from making a discernment as to what constitutes right and wrong action. (Remember: the wisdom of discernment is one of the five wisdoms of the nature of mind.)
But I’d ask, Which reality are you talking about, dude?
Yes, I know those teachings, and I know that they refer to absolute reality, not conventional reality. And I know that ultimately those two realities are not separate – the absolute is the true nature of the conventional, sure. But here, I’m talking about conventional reality, where harm and benefit are real experiences, real results of our actions, where cause and effect is in play. We exist – not inherently, sure – but we exist on this physical plain where our actions can cause both benefit and harm.
We live in a dualistic world. That its true nature is non-dual, doesn’t change the fact that our conventional experience is dualistic. There is night and day, a breath in and a breath out, good behaviour and bad behaviour – even if the line between them isn’t always clear and the delineation shifts depending on circumstances.
Watch out for nihilism; it’s more destructive in our material world than eternalism – making abuse acceptable by saying everything is ’empty’ is a prime example.
We exist, and yet we don’t inherently exist. Recognising this is the middle way, holding both at the same time, not using one to negate the other.
And this is the kind of understanding behind Tenzin’s comment: qualities and limitations, even profound ones, can coexist. The former do not cancel the latter, nor the latter, the former.
What I’ve Realised
Here are a few things I’ve come to understand from all this:
- Qualities and limitations can coexist. A person can have profound wisdom and profound flaws at the same time.
- Rejecting everything isn’t always the answer. It’s okay to keep the good while letting go of the bad.
- Holding contradictions is hard but necessary. It’s uncomfortable, but it’s also honest.
- The middle way applies to people too. Just as things both exist and don’t exist, the same person can do both good and terrible things.
- Awareness is key. Knowing the risks of Tibetan Buddhism doesn’t mean rejecting it entirely—it means approaching it with eyes wide open.
Does it Matter?
I think this matters because it’s not just about spiritual teachers or Tibetan Buddhism. It’s about how we deal with contradictions in life. How we make sense of situations that are both beautiful and painful, both inspiring and harmful.
It’s tempting to simplify, to pick a side, to say, “This was all good” or “This was all bad.” But life rarely works that way. And when we reject complexity, we risk losing something valuable – the truth of how things actually are.
For those of us who’ve been part of spiritual communities, this process of sifting through the good and the bad is deeply personal. It’s not about excusing harm or pretending it didn’t happen. It’s about being honest with ourselves about what we gained and what we lost—and finding a way to move forward.
An Important Acknowledgement
I acknowledge that for some people, there really was no good in their experience at all. They were taken advantage of from day one, abused and manipulated and left with CPTSD. I’m not suggesting that they see benefit where there was none. Everyone must be honest with their own experience and feelings.
However, they can still perhaps admit that some people in the sangha experienced benefit, just as those who experienced only benefit can still admit that some people also experienced harm.
And thanks Tenzin for the inspiration for this post. You gave me the kick in the bum I needed to finally say it out loud.
A Question
So I’ll leave you with this: What would it look like to hold both truths in your own life? To acknowledge the good without excusing the bad, and to face the bad without rejecting the good?
It’s not easy – especially if you were directly harmed by someone – but maybe it’s worth trying. what do you think?
