The Profound Silence of Dharma Mountain
Sister Chân Trăng Tam Muội
Sunday
The first day of silence. At first, I was too busy to notice. Offering the first and only dharma talk, facilitating a sharing circle, organizing the texts for the meditations, my “busyness” continued. Even so, while sitting in meditation this morning, when a deep silence filled our spectacular meditation hall (a yurt perched high on the rocks), as I watched the clouds playing hide and seek in the valleys below, there was a letting go and tears fell. Tears of gratitude that this wonderful practice center exists, Dharma Mountain, hidden high in the wild mountains of the Cevennes, as well as gratitude for the support of so many who have enabled this retreat to happen.
Throughout my monastic life, I have kept this dream warm of one day facilitating a silent retreat that would be as nourishing for the monastics as for the retreatants. It felt risky because we do not offer silent retreats at Plum Village. I felt I would be venturing off the beaten track. However, my monastic sisters encouraged me and showed their trust. Sister Dao Nghiem and Sister Hien Duc were motivated to help organize and to support in addition to the 27 French retreatants who signed up with enthusiasm to invite more silence into their lives.
Time to do nothing, to be. To slow down. To put away the phone.
The schedule was different to a Plum Village retreat. Every day we were all committed to practicing three silent meditation sessions in the hall. The morning and evening session were one hour long, the midmorning session lasted 1.5 hours. Each session starting with the reading of a short text by Thay from either The Art of Living or Healing the Inner Child.
After the reading, we would each be free to continue to meditate while sitting, standing or practicing very slow walking meditation at the back of the hall. This element of choice was crucial in the retreat along with the transitioning between positions. What do I need in this moment? To embrace my restlessness and continue to sit like a mountain? Or to silently stand and feel the torrent of bodily sensations cascading through my limbs? Or to walk so slowly, inching along without a sound, catlike, up and down behind the seated practitioners? Arriving, from foot to foot, massaging the earth, stopping, no thinking.
I was quite nervous, could our friends – all Plum Village practitioners – and my monastic sisters accept this different way of practicing? Patience, I reminded myself; embracing my anxiety. Wait and see…
Monday
I could feel the settling in around me, the joy was palpable and our concentration was deepening. The 16 exercises of the Discourse on the Full Awareness of Breathing was our guide for the week. We each had a copy on our meditation mat as a road map in case we lost our way; the one and only Dharma talk/orientation on the first morning was about practicing with this discourse. The Buddha invited us to dive deeply into our bodily sensations and to observe our breath and body with curiosity and wonder.
In the hall there was a growing sense of having a lot of time and the space to just be. As the sun rose, we watched the changing display of light and color across the mountains. We enjoy. We hear the blackcaps sing “chuk, chuk, chuk” and nuthatches “ouiee, ouiee, ouiee,” greeting a new day.
At the close of the midmorning session, a huge thunderstorm broke overhead. We all spontaneously lay down, allowing the driving rain, the wind, the thunder to resonate through our silent bodies. We surrendered to the Earth, to the rock beneath our backs. As suddenly, the storm passed. Torrents were spurting from the mountainside, trees were dripping… Silence. A rainbow was stretching from mountain to mountain.
The inner silence was growing, we were truly arriving. I felt gratitude and relief as my monastic sisters shared their enthusiasm and support. In the first of three Dharma sharing circles the retreatants expressed their gratitude for this new opportunity to deepen their practice, even though it was challenging at times.
Tuesday
Joy was with us and around us. Master Linji reminds us that we are already enough. We gazed through the wide windows looking out over the valley, but today they were blank and resembled huge, grey computer screens. A thick mountain mist enveloped us. Nothingness. Not knowing. Time stood still but slowly the landscape mysteriously revealed itself. Alpine swifts dived carelessly into the pooling mists of the valleys below and soared back up and out again into the clearing sky, flashing white as they turned. The purple of rain-washed heather vibrated against the acid yellow of lichen and silver grey rock.
Falling in love again and again with our beautiful planet; here, it is easy to gladden the mind.A reference to the 10th exercise of the Discourse on the Full Awareness of Breathing. Breath became a friend ever present in my body. Walking slowly up and down in the meditation hall, my feet felt huge and soft, like I was padding with a lion’s paws, with nowhere to go. “We are already what we want to become.”
Later, our sharing circle was silently journaling, together under the pines, responding to questions: “What, where and how do you feel in your body? What is alive in your senses? What resistances are present? What cows (attachments) would you like to let go of? What conditions for joy do I already have?”
A hornet buzzed and steered its way right through our circle, curious to see a group of humans so still. But no one reacted, such was the quiet and concentration.
Wednesday
“Lazy day” in silence with no scheduled activities. I hiked alone and scrambled up to a ledge on the peak. While drinking tea, flocks of alpine swifts accelerated up the mountainside and whooshed past my head, perhaps in surprise to find me up there, before they dived down the other side for another mosquito feast. I leisurely ate my picnic under the darkening sky, and returned home just before the rain crashed down.
Before the last meditation session of the day, we listened to a reading by Thay inviting us to bring our inner child with us, to allow that child to come close and sit on our lap, so they could be heard, soothed and comforted. Let our inner child accompany us as we walk in the forest, lay on the rocks, or bathe in the icy water of the waterfalls and rock pools.
That evening, I sat easily for an hour. I was surprised when the bell was invited at the end of the session. The Dharma was soaking into us like the rain swirling over the mossy mountain. We contemplate impermanence.
Thursday
The first day of autumn, truly the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness. Throughout this week, we have tasted the fruits of stopping, relaxing, looking deeply, living together as a community, renewing our confidence in sitting meditation, meeting all that comes up in our minds with friendliness and compassion, and inviting all the parts of ourselves to come to the table with no discrimination. In the last session of Dharma sharing, a friend shared that he had never been able to get in touch with his inner child, but here, he invited his young self to walk with him on the mountain tracks and to play with him by the stream. He had listened to his inner child for the first time and his heart opened with love, understanding and compassion for the child, himself, and his ancestors.
This week we touched healing, held by the everchanging landscape. The beauty of the wilderness cracked our hearts wide open, and allowed us to experience the profound silence of the mountains and the deepening silence within.
Friday
As the end of the retreat approached, we were invited to gently ease out of our silence. Our gratitude and happiness were expressed — some in the songs of their ancestors, some in the ancient Occitan language, or with heartfelt words:
“Silence and the landscape opened up a vast space inside of me.”
“Connecting with the elements wind, rain, storm. I became one with them.”
“A magical and inspiring place, the presence of nature supported our practice.”
“I was so nourished to discover this new way of practicing, to travel together on the path of inner silence…”
Saturday
Before our last sitting meditation session, we listened once more to Thay’s encouraging words: “Sitting meditation is an act of civilization… It is priceless. You simply sit there, not doing anything. You are happy to be aware that you are sitting on a very beautiful planet, revolving in a galaxy of stars. You are sitting in the lap of the Earth and over your head there are trillions of stars. If you can sit and see that, what else do you need to sit for. You are in touch with the universe, and your happiness is immense.”
