In Memory of Robert “Bob” Thurman
A tribute by Katy Saeger
- 8 mins to read
If you had one conversation with Bob Thurman, chances are it changed your life.
That is, without question, the single most common thing I have heard from people all over the world. A chance encounter. A lecture. A class. A book. A single question asked after a talk. Somehow, Bob always seemed to arrive in your life at exactly the right moment, and people left seeing themselves, and the world, differently.
Over the years that I had the chance to both work and travel with Bob, people would stop us everywhere, in airports, on streets, in countries far from home. They stopped him because he was a giant in every sense. Tall, bold, unmistakable, with a voice that projected knowledge across rooms and dimensions. And they stopped Bob because somewhere along the way, his words had touched their lives so deeply that they were in awe to meet him.
There were many versions of Bob. Professor Bob. Tenzin Bob. Activist Bob. Philosopher Bob. Storyteller Bob. Mischievous Bob. Spiritual Father Bob. And always, deeply devoted Bob. Devoted to wisdom. Devoted to learning. Devoted to Tibet and the Tibetan people. Devoted to His Holiness the Dalai Lama and a life of service. Devoted to humanity and our collective potential.
In recent years, I had the privilege of being part of the work around Bob and Nena and Tibet House, sharing his generous wisdom, preserving conversations, and contributing to the broader effort, carried by many hands, to protect His Holiness the Dalai Lama’s lifelong vision for Tibetan culture and wisdom. What became clear in that time was how eager Bob was to reach further. He made wisdom generously, almost recklessly available to anyone who happened to be in the room. That instinct, to keep offering what he knew freely to whoever was in front of him, was Bob’s way entirely.
And this is the part people so often misunderstand when it comes to Tibetan culture and Buddhism. His mission was never about the religion at all. What set Bob on fire was something else entirely: the wisdom, the compassion, and the practical tools these traditions hold for exploring the inner sciences, the architecture of the mind and the heart. He treated Tibetan Buddhism less as a faith to join than as a body of knowledge to be shared, an inner science as rigorous and as useful as anything in the outer world. He simply wanted you to have the tools. What you did with them, and what you believed while you did it, was entirely your own.
Bob wasn’t simply brilliant on stage. He was brilliant all the time. His “on” button was always on, always lit, and always ready to light you up too. The same curiosity. The same joy. The same relentless enthusiasm for ideas. The same delight in meeting someone new and believing they possessed limitless potential.
His own search began, as the deepest ones often do, through loss. At twenty, an accident took the sight of one eye, and that rupture eventually set him on the road, through Europe, the Middle East, and finally to India, where he first encountered His Holiness the Dalai Lama. He became one of the closest lifelong friends and students of His Holiness. The two met when Bob was a young man, and in 1965 he became the first Westerner ordained as a Tibetan Buddhist monk by His Holiness. They would meet for years afterward, trading knowledge across worlds, Bob studying the dharma while tutoring His Holiness in Western thought. The intimacy and sweetness between them was felt up to the very last encounters we shared.
In an act of service, Bob gave up the robes. He had come to believe he could do more good in the American equivalent of the monastery, the university, where he could reach far more people than monastic life would ever allow. That single decision, to widen the circle, was the through-line of his entire life.
To know Bob was to know that his devotion was never performative. It shaped every decision he made. Everything he built, from co-founding Tibet House by Dalai Lama’s request in the US, to holding the first endowed chair in Buddhist Studies in the West at Columbia, to decades of teaching, writing, traveling, and translating ancient wisdom, was in service to the Dalai Lama and to preserving a culture and a philosophy he believed humanity desperately needed.
His students felt what strangers felt in a single encounter, only they felt it semester after semester, year after year, for decades. They called his classes life-changing, and they meant it literally. That was the thing about Bob. What most people would consider a life-changing experience was simply his daily life.
Bob Thurman was one of the most legendary scholars of his time. Time Magazine named him one of the twenty-five most influential Americans. India awarded him the Padma Shri, one of its highest civilian honors. He gave us landmark translations, including the Vimalakirti Sutra and the Tibetan Book of the Dead, and books that reached far beyond the academy. In his later years, the Prime Minister of India sought him out to discuss how the wisdom of these traditions might help solve the problems facing the world, and mourned him, when the time came, as a lifelong friend of India. That is who Bob was, a man whom heads of state and top CEOs turned to when they wanted to talk about how ancient wisdom could meet the present moment. High Tibetan monks would often tease that Bob was in fact more Tibetan than most Tibetans. He carried the lineage in his bones.
And Bob genuinely wanted to change the world. It frustrated him that we had yet to solve the problems in front of us with the abundant resources we already have, because he saw every one of them as solvable. Not someday, and not in theory. Now, and in practice, if only we chose to.
Bob believed wisdom belonged to everyone. He could spend an afternoon explaining the most sophisticated philosophy in Tibetan Buddhism to leading scholars, then five minutes later explain the very same idea to someone who had never heard the word “Buddhism” before, and somehow both people walked away transformed. That was his genius. Not simply that he knew, but that he could inspire your knowing, and he made you believe awakening was actually possible. And underneath all of it was an unwavering devotion: to His Holiness, to Tibet, to his students, to truth, and above all, to Nena.
One of the greatest privileges of my life was witnessing the relationships between Bob and Nena and Bob and the Dalai Lama.
The first time I was present for the reunion with His Holiness, after many years apart, it felt as though time stood still. Others in the room felt it too. There was such affection, reverence, familiarity, and love between them that for a moment the rest of the world seemed to disappear. It was not a meeting of public figures. It was the reunion of two old friends, two great hearts, whose lives had been intertwined through decades of shared purpose, service, wisdom, and love.
On our most recent visit, I witnessed another moment I will carry with me forever. His Holiness pulled Bob close. Forehead to forehead. Heart to heart. And with immense tenderness, he said: “Bob is home. Bob is home.”
The attendants and everyone surrounding for a moment, entirely silent. It was one of the most beautiful expressions of love and recognition I have witnessed. As I reflect on those words now, they feel less like a statement and more like a blessing. A recognition of a life lived fully. A life lived in service. A life lived in devotion. A life lived in love.
And, watching Bob and Nena together may have been the greatest teaching of all. She was his partner, intuitive, confidante, creative force, grounding presence, and exquisite love. Their partnership was a reflection that extraordinary lives are rarely built alone. And around them, a family. Bob’s children and grandchildren, each carrying some piece of his fire forward into the world in their own way. The teaching never stays in one generation and the unfolding of what comes next is a blessing for us all.
The world has lost one of its great teachers. But what comforts me is something Bob himself taught over and over again: wisdom does not disappear when the teacher does. It lives in practice. It lives in kindness. It lives in curiosity. It lives in courage. It lives in each conversation that changes another human life. As Nena shared with me recently, “Bob would want us and her to be happy.” That is Bob’s real legacy. To the world he was Robert Thurman. To those fortunate enough to know him, he was family and a best friend.
Thank you to everyone who has shared stories, photos, prayers, messages, and memories over the last week. Each one reveals another facet of Bob and reminds us how many lives he touched. Mostly, I find myself feeling grateful. Grateful that Bob lived so fully. Grateful that he loved so generously. Grateful that so many of us had the opportunity to experience the joy, wisdom, wonder, and humanity that radiated from him everywhere he went. And grateful that his vision, his teachings, and his love will continue to ripple through all of us for generations to come.
If Bob’s work touched your life, I hope you’ll share your memories here:
The family is reading every one of them.
And if you’re able, please consider supporting Tibet House and the extraordinary mission he devoted his life to protecting.
Bob is home.
Te amo, para siempre.
With love,
Katy
