A noticeable presence entered the meditation hall. All heads turned to the far back left corner towards the door. In walked a small unpretentious man garbed in dark brown robes. His aged body erect yet humble, his clasped hands resting up against his diaphragm. A hush fell over the room. An odd cough. The occasional whisper. He began to walk to the front of the hall. Row upon row of occupied mats faced the front. His walk: precise but yet so gentle and in no hurry. No sense of destination. Almost like he was already there. As each sandal met the floor, a sort of smile, an expression of contentment spread across his face. I had never seen this way of being before. It was calming to watch. I was amused at his thick woollen work socks. Similar to ones I had worn back on my farm in Canada.

He passed right in front of me emitting a sense of simplicity, serenity. The air moved. The realization that this ripple of air against my face was created by Thich Nhat Hanh was extraordinary. Tears began rolling down my face. Uncontrollably. Such disbelief that this world renowned buddhist master, author, poet, now passing right in front of me was the very same person that authoured the book, the book that changed my course. This book, from a shelf in a small rural library in Ontario, Canada to here at this buddhist centre in southwest France- the actual place where the words were written- was almost unthinkable. Now here I am sitting on a mat in a meditation hall in France. Almost too much to comprehend. Suddenly there were no boundaries, no separation of any sort, just a sense of being free, being one with everything. Everything shrunk, came down to this very moment. It felt right, everything in the right place.

Such gratitude to the monk who invited me to join them. I felt incredibly fortunate to have received an invitation to Plum Village, to spend the day of Dec.24 with Thich Nhat Hanh and his community. I had read that in the winter he refrains from travelling so that he can stay home to give teachings to the monks and practitioners. They all live together for 90 consecutive days resulting in the energy staying within the walls. Preferably not escaping with people coming in and out hence the expectation of my request being denied but still hoping.

My invitation to join them was signed off ‘A lotus for you.‘ These four words had a profound effect on me catching me totally off guard. I had barely finished reading the fourth word and I was weeping buckets. It felt incredibly personal. I didn’t feel so alone. Such a generous attentive offering made to me from this monk. I later received a further communication from him,  ‘Another lotus for you’. So beautiful.

The 24th of December arrived. Up early to feed the menagerie and off I went. This time with a good set of directions from the monk. It was a 50 min drive dipping in and out of wide valleys with such diverse landscape. Rolling hills, rich farming land, scenic rivers. Tiny roads weaving through quaint picture book villages, passing historic churches, a Chateau, vineyards, orchards. The last 20 mins was on very narrow, twisty roads climbing up the vine-covered slopes. Upon arrival I was directed to the meditation hall. Shoes off onto the muddy floors of the entrance and through a door I entered into the large hall. Rows and rows of mats with a meditation cushion placed on each one. People already scattered around. Some chatting quietly with each other, others meditating. It seemed like everyone knew what to do but I felt quite alone and anxious. Nobody seemed to notice my bewildered expression and hesitation about where to go. I initially sat about halfway up where there was a large clump of empty mats. I sat down on the cushion and looking around noticing unoccupied random mats on the front row. I thought be brave Fiona go for it who knows if you will ever have this  opportunity again. Carefully dodging the rows ahead of me placing my feet within the small space around each mat and praying not to fall …engage the core..I managed to claim a front row seat off to the left of the small stage where Thich Nhat Hanh would be sitting. A gong rang and meditation began. The harmonic chant of the monks was transformative. The sound itself could be a religion. The monks clearly becoming one with the sound. Thich Nhat Hanh arrived and began his teaching. I was captivated by his voice. Pure. Nourishing. Gentle.  Incredibly calming to my soul. He allowed the perfect space of silence in between his words pausing often giving a smile. Hearing him speak the words that I had previously read in Canada was stirring. His presence radiated love and peace. There was a healing energy around us all. I marvelled at how young he looked for his 89 yrs. Almost two hours went by in a blink of an eye. I knew that I had been part of something very special.

From Thich Nhat Hanh’s teaching I received an invaluable tool to help with overwhelming pain- in my case grief. When the waves of suffering arrive, the key is to be mindful of what is happening rather than panicking and trying to run from it which is naturally what your body is telling you to do. The idea is to acknowledge the emotion, the suffering (sorrow, anger, anxiety..) and speak to it with your mind. Show compassion to this overwhelming feeling. To say to it- I am aware that you are here. Don’t worry I will take care of you. Swaddle the feeling much like a baby then hold it tenderly, rocking it back and forth like a mother does to a crying baby. The overwhelming suffering lessens. This wasn’t easy at first but with mindfulness practise, being conscious with what is happening right now, it has become easier to calm the pain before it really manifests.
It is ongoing work.

The following year I returned to France to housesit in the same area. My daughter Kelsey came to visit me. We drove up to Plum Village and the monks invited us to come in and walk around. When Kelsey walked into the meditation hall she was transfixed. Something came over her. An energy. Pure. Spiritual. She didn’t want to leave the feeling. She said she had never felt such peace as she had in there. Thich Nhat Hanh was absent as sadly he had suffered a massive stroke and was in the hospital. As I write this today he has since returned to Plum Village where he is being cared for.