Walking Into Awakening: Lessons From Plum Village Monastery
“The earth does not need heroes. She needs caretakers. Witnesses. People willing to pay attention.”
Arrival in Silence
The ball of sun pushes gently between the trees as I sit with a steaming cup of tea outside the grand meditation hall. Plum Village is alive with silence: the shuffle of feet, the sight of lily ponds, the rustle of leaves. I notice all of it. I have gone from overdrive to a hard stop in what feels like minutes. Even the young woman who jogged past me moved quietly.
I arrived yesterday, checked in, toured the upper hamlet, and unpacked in a simple glamping tent with my 2 tent mates. Today, it is reflection time. I’m bundled in a hoodie, down vest, and jacket — an hour away from being overdressed, but for now comforted by the warmth.
The timing of this arrival is almost impossibly poignant. Yesterday marked exactly five years since I was dropped off at Bamsebu in the High Arctic, beginning 19 months of overwintering in isolation and citizen science. Today, September 17, 2024, is my first full day at Plum Village. One chapter of my life closed on the ice, another opens here among monks, teachers, and seekers.
Silence has a way of welcoming us back home.
The Bell. Plum Village Monastery, France
Without Labels
If I were to introduce myself here — not with the usual labels of explorer, speaker, environmental advocate — but simply with my story, what would I say?
I would begin with my parents.
My mother: a pioneer, a seeker, a risk-taker in a world mostly dominated by men. Accomplished as business woman. Her way of giving was through incredible storytelling and humor bridging divides .
My father: steady, devoted, a man of routine. Accomplished as a Captain. His way of giving was to chop firewood and offer it as gifts that included genuine kindness and to make sure his kids had what they needed.
From her, I inherited courage and curiosity. From him, loyalty and devotion. From both, some destructive habits I am still softening.
I am the sum of these parts, as we all are — the living continuation of those who came before us, and the seeds of those who will follow.
Lessons from the Arctic
In the Arctic, I learned what it means to dissolve the boundary between “doing” and “being.”
We were there to collect data, to contribute to climate science, to bear witness to melting ice and shifting ecosystems. Yet in the long dark months, it wasn’t only about the tasks. It was about learning to sit with discomfort, to breathe into silence, to find presence in the void.
Resilience is often described as pushing through. But sometimes resilience means yielding, softening, staying put when every instinct tells you to run.
There were so many nights when the aurora danced above me, and the only action that mattered was stillness. And awareness around the Polar Bears - breathing and calm were finely tuned.
If you can’t feel it, you can’t heal it.
That was true for the fragile Arctic ecosystem, and it was true for me.
Joy as a Responsibility
One teaching here at Plum Village struck me deeply: joy is not optional. It is our responsibility.
When the seed of joy is strong, the seed of pain diminishes. Nourishing joy does not deny despair; it transforms it. Joy is the soil in which healing grows.
There are only twelve full moons a year. Three hundred and sixty-five sunrises. How many do we actually witness?
The future isn’t something “out there.” It lives in how we tend to the present moment.
The Stories We Tell
At Plum Village there was much spoken about “truths”:
Historical truth — the dates, the temperatures, the facts of climate change and COVID.
Conventional truth — the lived stories, the suffering, the data, the science.
Ultimate truth — interbeing: the reality that nothing exists alone.
When we forget this, we lose our agency. We tell ourselves the problems are too big, too far away. But every choice, every act of consumption or compassion, ripples outward.
The question isn’t whether we have agency. It’s whether we choose to use it for healing or for harm.
Why Is It So Hard to Change?
Sister True Dedication, a former journalist who became a nun under Thich Nhat Hanh, asked us this question: Why is it so hard to change the direction of our civilization?
Her answer was piercing:
“What’s missing is not more facts, not more technology. We have enough of both.
What’s missing is insight.”
If we haven’t changed our way of living, it’s because the awakening is not strong enough.
Awakening doesn’t come from intellect alone. It comes from our whole being — feet on the ground, breath in the lungs, presence in the moment.
She offered us three deceptively simple questions:
Who are you? Not your job title, not your achievements, but the lineage you carry — parents, grandparents, ancestors, stars and rivers within you.
Where are you? Are you at home in yourself, or restless and distracted?
What do you want? Beyond projects and tasks — what is your deepest aspiration, the love that animates your life?
Imagine if we asked ourselves these questions daily. Would we still live as if we were separate from the earth?
Awakening as Urgency and Eternity
Many civilizations before ours have ended. Ours is not immune. If our awakening is not strong enough, our trajectory will remain unchanged.
Facts alone won’t save us.
Technology alone won’t save us but it can help us if used the right way.
We need spiritual strength — the courage to feel despair in our bodies, to grieve, to love, and to act.
Hope is not naive. Hope is an energy we cultivate. It allows us to act with urgency — because the crises we face are immediate — and with eternity — because our actions ripple far beyond what we can see.
When I walked in silence among the bell towers and ponds of Plum Village, I remembered walking in silence across the ice. Both asked the same of me: awaken, pay attention, live fully in the present. Be awake.And trust me I struggled to find the right thing to do, the next best thing- feeling like it needs to be a big idea, a bold project.. The answer is so much simpler and so much more accessible.
A Personal Vow
So what does this mean for me now, five years after Hearts in the Ice and one day into Plum Village?
It means I want to dissolve the artificial boundary between “explorer” and “human being.” To see my work not just as projects or deliverables, but as expressions of interbeing. To take care of the earth not only through science, but through joy, ritual, and presence. Its a process.
To live my life as a vow:
To be of service.
To nourish joy.
To embrace discomfort.
To soften into love.
The earth does not need heroes. She needs caretakers. Witnesses. People willing to pay attention.
Closing Reflection
This morning, the bell tower chimed at six. I walked mindfully to meditation, breathing into the cool air, feet pressed into the earth. A red-orange moon set in the west as the sun rose in the east.
Life is fleeting. Each step is precious. And as I walked, I whispered to myself:
This is who I am.
This is where I am.
This is what I want.
So as you read this…I will once again return to Plum Village early October 2025 for the soul nourishing Climate and Nature Retreat hosted by the Monks, Nuns and the team that support Christiana Figueres and her global work
“We will never solve all of our problems, but we must never stop trying and it starts with us as individuals right where we are .We are one thought away from great change, lets go….” Sunniva Sorby
A little reminder for you today from Sister True Dedication https://youtu.be/nvkgqt-hkEg
