Hoh Xil is empty, but our hearts are full

Hoh Xil — known as one of the last untouched wildernesses on Earth, the “forbidden zone for human life” — appears on modern maps as a harsh and inhospitable region: cold, high, remote, and seemingly lifeless. To scientists, it is an “extreme ecosystem.” But to Tibetan Buddhists, it is far more than that.

In the Tibetan spiritual imagination, Hoh Xil is not a void, but a vast sacred stillness — a “ground of emptiness” not defined by human utility or language. There are no temples here, but the entire landscape becomes a meditation hall. No prayer beads, yet every wind carries a mantra. The absence of noise becomes a presence in itself — the presence of the unborn, unshaped, ungraspable truth.

Tibetan Buddhism teaches the view of emptiness (śūnyatā) and dependent origination — that nothing exists independently or permanently. Every phenomenon lacks intrinsic nature and gains meaning only through causes, conditions, and the mind that perceives it. Thus, the world does not carry meaning in itself; rather, meaning is something we project, offer, or awaken.

Hoh Xil, then, is not barren — it is empty in the Buddhist sense. And that emptiness makes it open, pure, and free. It can be anything: a field of ascetic practice, a mirror for selfless awareness, a land of non-harming, a sanctuary for beings who ask for nothing.

To the Tibetan people, the antelope that roam these plains are not just endangered species — they are sacred. They are known as “spirit antelope,” embodiments of past-life warriors or sentient beings seeking liberation. In this view, to kill is not just ecologically wrong — it is karmically tragic. To protect life is not only activism — it is devotion.

This is why Hoh Xil has been guarded not only by rangers and governments but by monks, pilgrims, and ordinary Tibetan people moved by deep compassion. Their protection is not loud; it is offered in footsteps, in silent prayers, in the sheer presence of respectful being.

In a world where everything is empty of fixed meaning, it is precisely our intention that creates value. To protect Hoh Xil is not only to shield a wilderness, but to express a worldview — one in which life is sacred, nature is not a resource, and the deepest truths are often found in silence.

Perhaps Hoh Xil is empty — but that is why it can hold so much. It holds the antelope, the snow, the wind, and our yearning for something beyond words. Like the Buddha’s silence under the Bodhi tree, it answers nothing — but awakens everything.