I spent the last few days of 2022 and welcomed 2023 with quiet meditation and embraced by love and affection.
The last twelve days were nourishing, soul searching, and refocused my direction in life. Prior to leaving for Plum Village in Thailand, I had somewhat fallen off the practice as I started traveling and life got busier. I felt my emotions become cloudy and my soul becoming restless. There was an unspoken call deep within calling me to Plum Village. I don’t know what was there for me, but I knew that I had to go.
I went without expectations, with the intention of recentering myself in the practice of meditation and mindfulness, but what I didn’t expect was to be surrounded by strangers who were so kind, with so much love for people they didn’t know. Strangers who very quickly became close friends and confidants, sharing meals in silence in the hall, or in thoughtful and joyful conversations sitting by the sidewalk.
Over there, we struck up conversations without a clue of the other person’s occupation or status in life, without any motives or expectations. We simply talked freely with a genuine openness without having the need to feel about social cues. It felt liberating to speak without having to have our walls up, and conversations went deep really quickly. We talked about our journeys and our fears, the suffering we faced in childhood or our later years, and embraced each other’s pain. We came from all walks of life, from different nationalities and of different ages, but connected easily with a kindness that I haven’t felt anywhere else, and I was deeply touched by it.
For me, it felt like coming home. I met so many nomads and people who were on the road and traveling from places to places, searching for the same answers in life and having similar values in our heart. I will always remember the people and conversations that I met and experienced there.
Being with so many people was a true practice though. It was a little overwhelming at the start, but I tried to embrace the situation. It was a chance to practice true interbeing, to live with everyone and talk to people I wouldn’t normally talk to, and to let go of any wrong perceptions I had. As the days went by, I realized that many of the perceptions I had of others were not true, and I ended up having some of the deepest conversations and connections with people I wouldn’t have thought of connecting with or would have avoided in normal life.
Living in the hills, life was simple, joyful, restful and quiet. We would start our day in silence at 4.30am, waking up from the cold night as the morning bell rang and slowly making our way in the dark to the meditation hall in the chilly morning air. After a half hour meditation of focusing on our breath and quieting our thoughts, we would walk around the monastery grounds in a silent meditation, focusing on every step. Walking only for the pure joy of walking, without the intention to arrive - with nowhere to be, and nowhere to go.
Have you ever experienced five hundred people walking together in silence?
Witnessing the Sangha, that stretched across two to three hundred meters, walking together in a gentle silence was a powerful moment for me. Everyone was in the present moment and walking together at the same time. It is a moment that I haven’t experienced anywhere else. Sometimes, we’ll all stop and watch the sun rise from behind the mountains, the morning sky a combination of purple, orange and blue. I would feel the sun on my face, the cool mountain breeze on my skin, the cold breath in my lungs.
At that moment, I knew that I was alive.
Meal times were a time for practicing mindfulness and being present too, and everyone would gather in the meditation hall in a circle that spread out to the edges of the hall. We would have our meals in silence and quiet contemplation and gratitude of the food that was in front of us. We contemplated the multiple conditions of nature and people that came together that made the meal possible, and sat mindfully, savoring every mouthful without the distraction of conversation or with our phones in front of us.
The food always tasted amazing, in part because they were prepared mindfully, with kindness and love and without rush and because of the practice of mindful eating. Not only were they cooked well, we ate well too. Looking up at everyone being present together and enjoying our food in silence together is a whole new experience for me. At times, I would be aware of the pitter pattering of hundreds of spoons against glass bowls. The gentle wind would then arrive, sending the leaves on the bamboo trees rustling like the sound of a river. Together, they created a beautiful symphony of man and nature, interbeing with each other.
Every meal was a joyous occasion, and it’s something that I cherished and will miss deeply. I had an affinity with the openness of the blue sky, and would often sit alone or with friends on a ledge at the side of the kitchen building, or on the curb of the sidewalk. It didn’t matter that my clothes got dirty and dusty, it was where my soul felt free. Sometimes, I would sit and quietly observe the life around me, or friends would join me and conversations would start flowing - those were some of my favorite moments.
As the retreat came to a close and people started leaving, the monastery was filled with a quiet peace and calm; the feeling of warm porridge on a gentle autumn morning. I would often head to Thich Nhat Hanh’s hut (or Thay, which means teacher in Vietnamese) and lay under the large bodhi tree. Above me, I’ll see the leaves rustling and singing in the wind, and beyond that, the endless blue sky; my beautiful friend who is always there for me.
Laying on the grass with the earth supporting my body, the gently shifting sunlight on my face, the sound of wind chimes and song of leaves, I’ll fall asleep on the grass through the morning or the evening. Sometimes, I’ll lay down on the wooden swing and close my eyes, my heart full of gratitude for having the chance to be there, to experience this peacefulness that I haven’t felt in a long time.
Free from society’s expectations, free from any judgment, free from running, free from having the need to be anyone other than who I truly am.
