Two weeks in a monastery

Plugging into a global community of mindful resistance

Sunset on the solstice. Plum Village, Thenac, France. Photo by Dylan

Late last month, I returned from a two-week retreat at a Zen monastery in the south of France.

I want to say it was a pilgrimage, but the word seems too serious and devout. A better description would be a power-up. It felt like scooping up a bright yellow star that charged me up with bright, happy energy …

… wading out into a refreshing mountain stream of Zen practice and standing on a solid, submerged rock, feeling the current flow all around me …

… sitting in a circle of two dozen friends, singing songs, not just hearing but feeling the combined sound of our voices in my heart. (That one is not just a metaphor!)

The monastery, Plum Village, was founded by Vietnamese Zen master Thích Nhất Hạnh in the 1980s, and has grown into a cluster of “hamlets” separated by a few kilometers, two for nuns and one for monks. All of them host many retreats throughout the year.

Plum Village is the hub of a worldwide movement to find a more mindful way of living. Both the monastery and the mindfulness tradition that share its name provide a vibrant, peaceful, fully-present alternative to our distracted, violent, materialistic society.

You can see that resistance in the peaceful way people walk, stopping to take a few calming breaths whenever they hear the sound of a bell. (Which is pretty frequently there!) People are not using their phones. They’re not rushing. They’re enjoying the moment, the flowers, the sunshine, each other.

Today, back at home in Silicon Valley, sitting in the technological heart of the U.S. economy, I’m thinking about how I might carry that way of being forward into my daily life.

I have been practicing in this Buddhist tradition since 2018. I’ve been living in the heart of Silicon Valley since 1995. While I don’t tend to mix my Buddhist practices with my writing and editing business, I’m wondering today if maybe a little more mixing might be a good thing. We are facing an epidemic of loneliness and a hollowing-out of the structures that used to give our lives meaning. Atomized and alone, too many of us have become addicted to an always-online lifestyle, losing control of our technologies, and gradually losing touch with the ordinary wonders of life.

Are you here? (Are you sure?)

So let me share a few snapshots from the trip and why I feel called to share more from this community of resistance.

It’s easy to be mindful in Plum Village, so it’s a good place to practice ordinary mindfulness. Not just sitting down to formal meditation, but walking, eating, and talking mindfully. There’s a lot to enjoy about French countryside in which it’s located, with rolling hills, forests, vineyards, wheat fields, sunflowers, and ancient stone farmhouses and stone barns. The best thing about this landscape is that you can walk right through it, admiring the grapes, meeting the farm dogs, smelling the heat coming off the wheat fields and the big, cylindrical bales of hay.

My favorite time of day was just before dawn, listening to a tremendous chorus of songbirds in the forest next to me, watching the sky begin to lighten as I drank a cup of strong Vietnamese coffee that my roommate Clay had made.

After my predawn coffee I would walk up the hill, through a fragrant pine forest, past the big lotus pond, and into the meditation hall for the morning meditation, often with several hundred voices joining in on the chants -- a powerful burst of concentration in vocal form, resonating through my chest and belly, then echoing in my ears as we settled into a long, comfortable silence.

A few mornings, instead of going to the meditation hall, I went to sit on the broad deck of the little house where Thích Nhất Hạnh used to live. I sat there contemplatively, watching color fill the sky over the distant hills as the sun came up, hearing the sound of a distant church bell, dangling my legs over the edge and noticing vivid purple flowers below the fruit trees.

I grew to love spending time with the monastics, with their shaved heads, long brown robes, and slow way of walking. When I first started practicing meditation with this community, almost a decade ago, monasticism seemed like a quaint anachronism, cute but slightly embarrassing. Now I see these monks and nuns as pioneers in a movement, people who have dedicated their lives to cultivating mindfulness and joy 24-7. The depth of their practice is palpable. Just being around them gives me a feeling of calm and equanimity -- a kind of mindfulness contact high. Most of them are quite playful and easygoing, leading us in songs, games, and dance; offering tea; organizing meals for hundreds and leading almost every aspect of the retreat.

Among the monastics was Sister Chan Khong, the longtime collaborator of Thích Nhất Hạnh, herself now in her 90s, but sharp and joyful, with glittering eyes, a love of music, and a robust sense of humor. I was fortunate to visit her along with a small group of friends. We sang a few songs for and with her, and she commented, “I didn’t know we were going to have an opera!”

Sister Chan Khong is a true pioneer of peace work and social work. She started collecting rice to feed hungry families when she was a teen in Vietnam; later she was instrumental in building social programs to provide relief to war victims. For decades after her exile from Vietnam, she continued sending medicine and money to families shattered by Vietnam’s decades-long war and its totalitarian postwar government, and to refugees in countries around the world. She did all this with tremendous energy, cheerfulness, and optimism.

Meeting her was one of the high points of my life.

I asked her for advice on how others could cultivate a spirit of generosity similar to hers, and she answered honestly, “I don’t know.” Ha! Fair enough. So I acquired a copy of her book, Learning True Love, which addresses my question. It was clear from this book that she got her generous spirit from her parents and grandparents, who had been generous to the families around them. Generosity begets generosity. So that was my answer right there.

What if I tried to live like that even when I’m not in the French countryside? What if I put down the phone, engaged all my senses, walked a little more slowly, and savored a little more of each moment?

What if I practiced being a little more loving, a little more open, and a little more generous every day?

This is it

Field notes

Viral exceptions: “In software, an edge case might throw an exception. In urban robotics, it goes viral.” A recent post by Serve Robotics CEO and cofounder Ali Kashani (a client): Building robots in public

Hope. This 20’ high mural appeared on the back of a grocery store while I was out of town. I love it.

Writing prompt: Every Wednesday, I share a writing prompt / meditation with the my writing circle. I thought I’d try sharing these from time to time in Substack. (This one helped me write the post above.)

LMK what you think — should I keep sharing these?

That’s it for now. Write back if you have a minute.

Take care,

~Dylan~