“No mud, no lotus” – 2 weeks at Zen Monastery Plum Village

8 months away from the Buddhist monastery Thich Nhat Hanh founded in the South of France has done wonders for it – every corner is framed by wildflowers which bees and retreatants circle in quiet contemplation, only interrupted by occasional giggles and bells.
I breathe in, I breathe out, and I am present for both. But especially the space in between.
It’s good to be back.

“Our true home is in the present moment. To live in the present moment is a miracle. The miracle is not to walk on water. The miracle is to walk on the green earth in the present moment, to appreciate the peace and beauty that are available now.”

Time doesn’t move linearly here. Strangers become deep confidantes to each other. You’ll spend an eternity cross-legged but it’s actually just been five minutes.
The book that you’d been reading for months takes you a few days to finish.
Your heart slows down, your breath becomes shallow.
You start wondering whether life really is as complicated as you remember.
But once you’re back, your thoughts and emails and meal prepping and situationships and bin day all rush into your mind to remind you that peace weakens when your practice does.

“Meditation is not evasion; it is a serene encounter with reality.”

I’ve been to many retreat centers, and Plum Village isn’t even my chosen strand of Buddhism. I had become a little cynical seeing the swarms of suffering people pilgrimage back to retreat year after year because they seemingly only felt peaceful there.
It’s not because of the teacher though, or the nature or even the people. It’s because you finally give yourself space to just be. To meditate.
Here, I have found a dedication to mindfulness that vibrates in every pebble along the path and every leaf gently gliding on the wind.
The practice that is cultivated here, on the mat and primarily with the community you form, is a seed that keeps flowering, even when you have left.
Even when you check your emails again.
But you’ve got to keep practicing.
There’s no point finding home if you cannot stay there.
Even when it gets uncomfortable. I just keep breathing.

“Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and laughter at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.”

Going on retreat, especially at Plum Village, is wonderful.
It’s even more wonderful to try to maintain this peace when you’re back.
If your everyday life is not conducive to practising compassion and peace – what even are you living for?
I found that upon my return, the boulders I had placed in my daily path were glaringly obvious, and I was able to slowly tackle them.
There’s been gradual change, decluttering and mindful allocation of time, but most of all there’s been a shattering of the illusion that anything needs to change at all.
I don’t need to be on retreat to be at home within myself.
Now I just need to breathe.