The Practice of Connecting with the Present Moment
What Monastic Life at Plum Village Taught Me About Loneliness and Community
Today, I arrived back from a three-week journey that began in China and ended at Thai Plum Village, a monastic center near Khao Yai National Park, just outside Bangkok.
I don’t remember exactly how I came across the teachings of Thich Nhat Hanh, the Vietnamese Zen Buddhist monk who became a leader of a movement and community of mindful practices, now known as Plum Village, in the 1960s. It was during the time of the Vietnam War—known as the American War in Vietnam—that his teachings, grounded in peace and compassion, began to ripple outwards. Exiled from his homeland while promoting peace in the U.S., he resettled in Bordeaux, France, where he founded the first Plum Village community, planting 1,250 plum trees. That small center has since blossomed into a worldwide network of monastic centers.
What drew me in wasn’t just the practice, but how it transcended dogma—it was deeply in touch with the pulse of human suffering, offering not an escape, but an active engagement with the wounds of our world.
So when I stumbled upon Thai Plum Village and their week-long retreat this September, I intuitively signed up (and later found out that I got extremely lucky, as the registration form closed within the first fifteen minutes).
In the weeks before, I wandered through Southern China, a place that felt more like a glimpse of our collective future—digital, fast, frictionless. Arriving at Plum Village was like stepping into another realm where time softened, and each moment stretched wide like the lotus flowers on the pond.
With no real expectations or prior heads-up, I quickly embraced the monastic schedule: waking up at four a.m. for mindful sitting. I understood that this rhythm, which the monks and nuns follow daily, is a foundation that allows you to adjust with surprising ease. By the middle of the week, my body had already shifted, waking me at three-thirty each morning, without the need for an alarm.
Throughout the week, we listened to dharma talks, exchanged in our small peer groups led by an extremely diligent monk, and had time to connect with the majority of participants being from Vietnam, a handful from Thailand, and another handful internationals.
Beyond the teachings that left me moved to continue learning, it was the practice itself that was most powerful. As I wrote in my last piece about returning, the practices we learned were attuned exactly to this notion—as my dharma sharing group teacher said with a smile:
“If people ask you what you did at Plum Village, you can tell them: I learned how to breathe, how to listen, how to sit, how to eat, how to walk, and how to play.”
It might sound simple, but it was profound—and more difficult than you might imagine. Contrary to the belief that Buddhism is for the few living on the edges of society, Plum Village teaches that anyone can live this way.
But first, we have to stop.
In the first few hours of the retreat, I could feel my body decelerating, pushing the brakes within me, forcing me to slow down—and then slow down some more.
This opened space for moments of silence, conversation, and observation that reshaped my understanding of loneliness and community.
The power of collective practice
In a time of isolation, individualism, and glorified self-sufficiency, there’s nothing more radical than coming together and doing things together. Practice together. Each for themselves and yet in connection with one another. “Go as the river, not as the drop of water,” is how the saying goes at Plum Village.
Every morning at five-thirty, we’d begin walking meditation, one step after another, without a destination or set route. Aimless, we listened to the soles of our feet crackling on the pebbled ground between stones, grass, and leaves. As we walked, I wondered if this was what it felt like to be part of a flock in murmuration—no need for a leader, yet moving in perfect unison, each footfall echoing the quiet will of the group.
Small moments of seeing each other
Being entirely offline during the retreat, and mostly disconnected from social media thanks to China’s Great Firewall, I began noticing my surroundings more—like senior citizens playing mahjong, a street cleaner sweeping the pavement, or the traveler sitting next to me on the bus. We often rush through life, building invisible walls around ourselves, missing the moments when we see each other and are seen in return.
At Plum Village, each time you’d pass a monk or nun, or sit down to eat, you’d take a moment to make eye contact and quietly nod to the people around you. These small, shared glances—a smile, a touch of acknowledgment—help dissolve the walls of loneliness that modern life constructs. It is in these brief but sincere moments that we remember the sweetness of seeing each other.
It reminded me of how vital it is to create moments of real connection in our daily lives—a focus of the upcoming program I’m co-teaching, where we explore ways to reconnect with ourselves and others in a meaningful, mindful way.
Finding compassion through suffering
In times where violence, hatred, pain, and negativity often feel unbearably heavy and loud, dealing with strong emotions and experiences like loneliness can easily overwhelm. Rather than press ourselves under the weight of suffering, we can, as my teacher suggested, focus on joy first. Suffering, he reminded us, won’t vanish, but joy can be the doorway to handling it with more ease and grace.
In this way, loneliness, though difficult, can also be a gateway to deeper compassion. When we recognize our own suffering, we begin to understand the suffering of others more intimately. Loneliness becomes not just a burden we carry alone, but a shared human experience that can bring us closer. By holding our own pain with care, we learn how to hold the pain of others—and that in itself, is a precious, universal connection.
We are our ancestors, too
In the practice of "Touching the Earth," we are reminded that we carry our ancestors within us—their joys, their sorrows, their unfinished struggles. Every step we take in practice offers healing not just for ourselves, but for them as well, creating a bridge between past and present. We are interconnected, not only with those around us, but with those who came before, and those who will come after.
We are the continuation of what came before—the good, the painful, the regrettable. Each of us, whether we acknowledge it or not, holds the capacity to love or to harm, to create peace or perpetuate violence. And it is within our power to choose which path we walk.
Loneliness isn’t something to escape, but rather a reminder of our need to "inter-be"—with those around us, with our ancestors, and with the world itself. When we understand this, we can transform the isolation of our existence into a space of connection and shared presence.
We cannot be by ourselves alone; we can only inter-be with everyone and everything else. — Thich Nhat Hanh
PS. Ironically, returning from my trip places me right in front of a fully packed calendar over the next few weeks—a reality check on just how much of the mindful practices I’ll actually be able to maintain. We shall see! 🫠
If any of these upcoming events resonate with you, I’d love for you to join me:
UNFINISHED Festival (September 27-29, Bucharest, Romania): I’ll be giving the opening talk on Friday, a workshop on Saturday, and a closing conversation on Sunday, alongside two special installations: “Unfinished Letters” and the “Room of Whispers.” If you’ll be there, let’s meet up!
Society 5.0 Festival (October 9-10, Amsterdam, The Netherlands): We’ll explore loneliness—what it is, how it feels, and what it can offer. Expect creativity, colors, and playful ways to reflect inward, all within the warmth of community.
Humanize Program (October 9, online): Excited to kick off this 9-week course, focusing on reconnecting with yourself, others, and the world through a unique, neuroscience-based, partner practice. I’m co-teaching with Mallory Wilson, and we can’t wait to welcome you. If you’d like to sign up, check here. Reach out if you have any questions or need financial support!
Kaospilot Experience Design Program (October 30 - November 1, Berlin): I’m honored to be a mentor for this year’s three-day residential training. A few spots are still available—if you’re curious to learn more, visit the website.
TEDx Potsdam (November 6, Potsdam): Under the theme “More or Less,” I’m bringing the topic of loneliness to the red dot stage. I’m beyond excited and a little nervous! Check out the lineup and grab your tickets if you’d like to attend.
Thank you for supporting me, and for being here with me.
With love and care,
Monika