There are only two days in the year that nothing can be done. One is called Yesterday and the other is called Tomorrow. Today is the right day to Love, Believe, Do and mostly Live.

There are only two days in the year that nothing can be done. One is called Yesterday and the other is called Tomorrow. Today is the right day to Love, Believe, Do and mostly Live.

April 26, 2026 · 4 min read

The Dalai Lama’s Timeless Wisdom: A Life Philosophy in One Quote

The fourteen-year-old boy who would become the spiritual leader known worldwide as the Dalai Lama didn’t know in 1950 that he was about to be thrust into one of history’s most complex political and spiritual situations. Born Tenzin Gyatso in 1935 in rural Tibet, he was recognized as the reincarnation of the thirteenth Dalai Lama and brought to Lhasa at age two to begin his religious education. It was into this world of monastic study, geopolitical tension between Tibet and China, and enormous spiritual responsibility that the young Dalai Lama would develop the philosophy reflected in the quote about yesterday, tomorrow, and today. The words themselves likely emerged sometime during his extensive travels and teachings, possibly gaining particular prominence during the 1980s and 1990s when the Dalai Lama increasingly became an ambassador of peace to Western audiences. The simplicity of the message—that only today is actionable, and that today should be dedicated to love, belief, action, and living—represents the distillation of Buddhist philosophy into language accessible to contemporary audiences seeking meaning in an increasingly fractured world.

Tenzin Gyatso’s early life was anything but ordinary, shaped by both ancient religious traditions and twentieth-century upheaval. As the Dalai Lama, he was not merely a religious teacher but was historically considered a deity—specifically, an incarnation of Avalokiteshvara, the Buddhist bodhisattva of compassion. His education in the great monasteries of Lhasa was rigorous and comprehensive, covering Buddhist philosophy, logic, poetry, medicine, and metaphysics. However, this scholarly training was interrupted in 1950 when Chinese forces began their military occupation of Tibet, an event that would define much of his adult life and transform him from a purely spiritual leader into a political voice for Tibetan independence. When the Dalai Lama fled Tibet in 1959 following the failed Tibetan uprising, he carried with him not just Buddhist teachings but a profound understanding of human suffering, loss, and the necessity of hope. This personal experience of exile, of losing his homeland, his freedom, and his ability to physically lead his people, likely deepened his conviction that only the present moment offers genuine power.

What many people don’t realize about the Dalai Lama is his remarkable sense of humor and his genuine engagement with modern science, which seems paradoxical for someone leading a tradition stretching back over a thousand years. Unlike some religious leaders who view science as a threat, the Dalai Lama has consistently welcomed scientific inquiry and has spent hours in dialogue with neuroscientists, physicists, and psychologists. He has stated that if scientific findings contradict Buddhist teachings, Buddhist teachings should be revised—a stance that would be unthinkable in many religious traditions. Additionally, for someone who lived most of his life in exile and political controversy, the Dalai Lama maintained a remarkably playful and witty demeanor, often joking about his status as a “simple Buddhist monk” and employing humor to deflate tension in serious situations. Few realize that his decision to advocate for democracy in Tibet and even to voluntarily step down from political leadership in 2011, transferring those responsibilities to an elected Tibetan leadership, reflected a philosophical commitment to the very principles underlying quotes like the one about today—that meaningful action must be taken in the present moment to create real change.

The quote itself encapsulates core Buddhist philosophy, particularly the concept of impermanence and the emphasis on present-moment awareness found throughout Buddhist teachings. In Buddhist thought, dwelling excessively on the past creates attachment and regret, while obsessing about the future generates anxiety and prevents genuine engagement with reality. The Dalai Lama’s formulation is particularly clever because it doesn’t dismiss yesterday and tomorrow as unimportant in a nihilistic sense; rather, it suggests they are temporally inaccessible. We cannot change what has happened, and we cannot control what hasn’t yet occurred. This isn’t pessimism but realism—a pragmatic observation that action is only possible now. The added instruction to use today for loving, believing, doing, and living reflects the Dalai Lama’s conviction that a human life properly lived is one oriented toward compassion, faith (whether religious or secular), purposeful action, and authentic engagement with existence. It’s Buddhism translated into the vernacular of contemporary self-help philosophy, yet it loses nothing in translation because the underlying wisdom is universal.

In the decades since the Dalai Lama began gaining significant Western visibility, this quote and others like it have become ubiquitous in popular culture, appearing on social media, in motivational posters, on coffee mugs, and in self-help literature. This widespread distribution has occurred partly because the message is genuinely comforting and actionable, but also because it arrives stripped of many specific Buddhist doctrines that might challenge Western secular audiences. Where traditional Buddhist teaching about present-moment awareness might come wrapped in discussion of enlightenment, karma, and rebirth, the Dalai Lama’s version offers immediate psychological benefits without requiring metaphysical commitment. The quote has been used by corporate motivational speakers, therapists treating anxiety disorders, athletes preparing for competition, and grieving individuals trying to move forward. This adaptability speaks to the quote’s fundamental truth, but it also represents a subtle process of decontextualization—the words become severed