Bon’s remarkable resilience reads like a story of an ancient tree whose roots run deep beneath harsh winds. Even when political tides turned against it—first under the Tibetan emperors favoring Buddhism and later during the Cultural Revolution—Bon practitioners found creative ways to keep the flame alive.

Monasteries often hid texts behind false Buddhist façades, slipping in Bon rituals under the radar. Teachers passed down oral lineages in remote valleys where government scrutiny was lighter, and artisans tucked Bon symbols into thangka paintings alongside Buddhist deities. This cultural camouflage let Bon traditions survive, even flourish, in pockets of isolation.

Exile communities in India and Nepal became unexpected guardians. After 1959, the wave of refugees included Bon lamas who set up monasteries in Mustang, Himachal Pradesh, and elsewhere. Those new hubs sparked a revival, with young Tibetans enrolling in Bon philosophy classes at the Tibet House in New Delhi and at the Library of Tibetan Works and Archives. Modern technology has only helped: digitized manuscripts, online puja instructions, and Zoom teachings by figures like Tenzin Wangyal Rinpoche connect scattered practitioners worldwide.

Official recognition has come a long way, too. In recent years, the Tibetan Parliament in Exile acknowledged Bon as Tibet’s fifth school of thought, on par with the four Buddhist traditions. This boost sharpened Bon’s visibility, leading to exhibitions in Paris and New York, where audiences marvel at its rich cosmology and funeral rites.

Global interest in indigenous wisdom—think of the UN’s push for safeguarding intangible cultural heritage—has also cast a friendly spotlight on Bon. Younger generations, hungry for identity and spiritual roots, are flocking back to those high-altitude ghettos of myth and ritual. Today’s Bon looks both ancient and newly minted, standing tall as proof that a tradition with deep roots can weather any storm.