Amindful retreat among the monks
Karen Cumming learns to focus on ‘the now’ in a charmingly rustic French village, home to a revered spiritual teacher
you ever read a book that inspired you to dream — of travelling to a far-flung place?
You’re not alone. When “Eat, Pray, Love” first hit the shelves, travel agencies did a booming business sending women from all over the world to Italy, India and Indonesia in search of themselves. Call it the promotional equivalent of a commercial airing during the Super Bowl. Instead of selling Snickers bars, it sold us the dream of connecting with our souls. Elizabeth Gilbert’s real-life story of embracing life after divorce struck a chord with a lot of people.
I loved it, too. But my transformational journey had more to do with a book called “The Monks and Me.” Written by Toronto yoga teacher Mary Paterson, it tells the story of the 40 days she spent living in a Buddhist monastery called “Plum Village” in France. Paterson was there on a pilgrimage to find her bearings after the death of her father. Living a monastic life — even if only for a while — taught her the lessons she needed to find her way.
To say that I was fascinated is an understatement. From the moment I read the book jacket, I was hooked. Adventure, travel, spirituality and chocolate croissants all rolled into one holiday.
“Sign me up!” I whispered under my breath as I stood in the non-fiction aisle at Chapters and flipped through the pages.
What made the story all the more fascinating is that Plum Village isn’t just any Buddhist monastery. Not by a long shot. It’s home to the renowned Zen master and peace activist Thich Nhat Hanh.
I can hear you now. “Thich Nhat who?” Long story short, he is one of the fathers of mindful living — a spiritual leader beloved by millions around the world.
“Thay,” as he is affectionately known by his students, visited Brock University five years ago to host a weeklong mindfulness retreat for educators. It was a sellout crowd. In the world of spirituality, Thich Nhat Hanh is a humble rock star. His bio is impressive. He is the author of more than 100 books on mindfulness and meditation. He was nominated for the Nobel Prize in 1967 by Martin Luther King Jr. for the work he did advocating for peace during the Vietnam War. He is, in a word, inspiring. His key message is that happiness lies in the present moment. By learning how to be mindful in everyday life, he says, we can find peace in ourselves and in the world around us.
“Who couldn’t use a little more peace?” I thought to myself as I devoured “The Monks and Me.” The appeal of finding peace in a Buddhist monastery in France was undeniable. Talk about a roHave mantic locale for connecting with your soul. In the end, of course, the lesson to be learned is that we can connect with our soul and find peace wherever we are — in France or sitting on a lawn chair in our own backyard. Contrary to popular belief, peace has nothing to do with the conditions around us, and everything to do with those inside of us. It’s a lesson I needed to understand more clearly. Maybe you can relate.
Excited as I was at the prospect of a retreat at Plum Village, I wouldn’t have the chance to join the nuns and monks there for some time. Then fate stepped in when I was backpacking in the U.K. last year. I ran into a woman who had just left — you guessed it — Plum Village. She talked about her experience so lovingly and with such reverence. It was a sign; I knew in my heart that I had to go.
Faster than you can say “Thich Nhat Hanh,” I jumped online and registered for the next retreat, scheduled three weeks later. As I scanned the Plum Village website, I read that the nuns and monks at the monastery make it their mission to teach visitors “the art of living mindfully.” It was something that I very much wanted to work on.
Would I meet “Thay” himself ? Not this time. A stroke would keep him confined to his residence at Plum Village that summer. No matter. I was about to feel his spirit everywhere — from the Buddhist teachings known as “Dharma talks” offered during the retreat to the gorgeous calligraphy of his Zen quotes that hang on the walls at the three monastery sites: “Lower Hamlet,” “New Hamlet” and “Upper Hamlet.”
Fast forward three weeks — three long weeks. Excited as a kid on Christmas Eve, I hauled my backpack from the luggage rack on the train at the Sainte Foy La Grande station near Bordeaux. I was 40 minutes away from Plum Village by car, and soon to walk through the iron gates of a tranquil little world all its own. As promised, one of the village nuns, Sister Marianne, picked me up from the station in her makeshift taxi. Joining us was another guest who I had met on the train: a bubbly young French midwife named Isabelle. She was a return visitor who couldn’t imagine life without Plum Village. Good omen? I thought so.