At thirty-six years old, Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche was a rising star within his generation of Tibetan masters and the respected abbot of three monasteries. Then one night, telling no one, he slipped out of his monastery in India with the intention of spending the next four years on a wandering retreat, following the ancient practice of holy mendicants. His goal was to throw off his titles and roles, in order to explore the deepest aspects of his own being. Yet he immediately discovered that his training had not prepared him to deal with his dirty fellow travelers, or the screeching of the train. He had trouble shedding his monk's robes and paid for a cheap hostel rather than sleep on the station floor. Soon he became deathly ill from food poisoning--and his journey took a startling turn. His lifelong meditation practice had prepared him for facing death, and he now had the opportunity to test the strength of his training.