Among Fruit Trees, Expectations, and Practice

Among Fruit Trees,
Expectations, and Practice
Among fruit trees, green fields, and golden pastures
in Southwest France, three large bells ring every
day. The community that lives around them takes
a conscious breath each time they hear their sound.
Breathing in, they dwell in the present
moment. Breathing out, they smile.
I first heard about Plum Village from my mother
when I was fifteen years old. One day my mother
told my siblings and me that it would be a dream
to go to France, to a place where people were very
happy. She vividly described how the beautiful
sunflowers and plum trees blossomed while people there meditated, walked, and farmed together.
More than twelve years later, I finally arrived.
The reality of Plum Village exceeded the high
expectations I had. I came for the first time to an
Earth retreat in 2023, and I returned the same year
as a volunteer for the summer. My experience at the
mindfulness center founded by Zen Master Thích
Nhất Hạnh was the perfect equation of spending
time healing myself and helping others at the same
time. It was not a full round bliss as there were
moments of suffering (needed as the lotus needs
the mud), but I can confidently say it is still the best
summer I’ve ever had. I experienced life firsthand,
connected to friends and non-friends, to family
(even if they were very far away in Mexico) and
ancestors, to flowers and insects, to nature, and to
myself.
After living thirty days in New Hamlet, I reflected on the courage it takes to be softer. It is hard
to be tender when we perceive our environment as
harsh and cruel. Many people applaud those who
are “stronger, cooler, or more powerful,” those who
pretend that nothing matters, as if they are above
all suffering. For many years I clung to a mask of
indifference that helped me survive. I feared being
swallowed up at the first sign of weakness, so I
couldn’t look people in the eye. I had to look at the
ground and, when I had no choice, I looked up with
eyes of prey, trembling like a mouse ready to flee,
hide or attack back. During my stay in Plum Village,
I felt lighter and freer. While practicing with the
monastics, aspirants, and lay friends, I inhabited
myself for the first time: fully conscious. I relearned
how to eat, how to walk, how to breathe. Now I can
even smile at strangers, as I practiced very often in
Plum Village.
I have felt full and joyful moments with friends
and family before. But the difference between
those moments and what I experienced in Plum
Village is that before I didn’t take “others’’ into account. The distinction between us and them was
very common wherever I went: prioritizing “our
family,” “our friends,” “our group,” “our religion.” In
Plum Village, although we all came from different
places and cultures, we were all worthy of a smile,
a warm meal, and a listening ear. Everyone has a
job to do; everyone contributes and cleans up in
some way. There are no “hired hands” to clean or
serve. Serving is another practice we do, and even
if you have to do the dishes, throw out the rubbish
or wash the toilets, you do it willingly, knowing that
it is an offering to others. It is being grateful for the
precious moments you are living, and it is a mindfulness practice too.
The consideration for others goes beyond
those who live in the monastery and those who go
on retreat. In the meditations, everyone is thought
of. There is no group that is better than the others,
and we all need each other as we inter-are. And
all living beings are included: animals, plants,
minerals.
I will remember for as long as I can the sunny

moments in Plum Village: singing together around
the big bell, following the voice of the sister or
brother, not trying to get the perfect note, but being
one with the present moment. I will treasure the
memory of fresh plums and their delicious aroma.
The first one I tasted was an appreciation gift from
a dear friend. Because it smelled so good, I wanted
to keep it for a long time. I’m glad I ate it; now I have
the memory of its taste and that will last longer.
I will cherish, too, the walking meditation
around the lotus pond with a smiling sunset in the
background, where I remembered my grandma.
I thought she would have loved the sunset, the
fig tree, the plums, and serving each other. Later,
in fact, she did enjoy it with me. That day I walked
with her, feeling her presence.
Although I could not bring my mother with me
to Plum Village, I felt grateful to her for showing me
this beautiful path. I often thought of her: walking
among the sunflowers, reading the calligraphies,
and admiring all of Thầy’s books gathered in the
bookstore, the ones she always searched for wherever she could (it was hard to find them in Mexico
ten years ago). If the conditions are right, one day I
would be delighted to share a retreat with her.
My aspiration is to keep practicing and learning
ways to dwell in the present moment. I have dreams
but I am not attached to them. I have learned that
they will not bring me happiness in exchange for
achieving them. I generate happiness day by day;
I cultivate the seeds of joy even in suffering. When
there is suffering, I welcome it, embrace it, and let
it be for as long as it needs. There are still cloudy
and rainy days; but each time, the sun comes back
sooner and sooner.
Thank you, dear Thầy, dear monastics, and
dear beautiful Sangha, from Yanexy, a lay friend.
Yanexy Pinedo shares her experience and insights as a volunteer
for a retreat in New Hamlet, Plum Village in France.