Finding Peace Among the Koi: A Visit to Deer Park Monastery

This past Sunday, July 28, the monks and nuns of Deer Park Monastery (Tu Viện Lộc Uyển) graciously opened their grounds to the public for a Day of Mindfulness. This Buddhist monastery, in Thich Nhat Hanh’s Plum Village Tradition, is nestled in the Escondido highlands, in northeast San Diego County.

My daughter and I were delighted to join in since the monastery is within a reasonable drive from our home. It was going to be a hot day, and I figured that there might not be a big turnout, even though this seemed to be the only Day of Mindfulness offered during the summer months at the monastery.

I couldn’t have been more wrong! Apparently, many were in need of a Day of Mindfulness, and 400 of us showed up.

This was our first trip to Deer Park. Following a welcome with singing, we participated in a walking meditation. My daughter and I were clearly more focused on taking mindful steps and enjoying the beauty of our surroundings instead of exactly where on the grounds we were, and as a result, had trouble locating the small meditation hall where all the first-timers go following the walk. By the time we figured out where it was, the room was already packed with people. We managed to eke out a small space at the very back for ourselves to sit and listen.

I have never sensed such peace and spaciousness in the midst of so many bodies. The monk who spoke was gentle and funny, originally from Sweden, and it was a pleasure to listen to his introduction to the practice of mindfulness.

Following this explanation was a short break, and my daughter and I headed for tea. Cups in hand, we sipped as we sat outside in the shade behind the Tea Room, feasting on the glorious sight of the hilly terrain, serenaded by birds and wind chimes, and cooled by mountain breezes. Not what you would expect on a 90+ degree day during the summer. This felt so peaceful.

Done, we waited for our turn to wash our cups. Dharma sharing was next, but we never made it back to the small meditation hall. I admit I have a weakness for koi, and the lotus pond under the trees called to us.

At the lotus pond, I lost myself and found bliss.

We sat and watched the fish. I had had a difficult week, but those worries had not followed me to the monastery. In fact, all I felt was bliss and a lightness of being. Any thought that might have agitated me sat about six feet away, teetering precipitously on a rock surrounding the pond, ready to lose its balance, plunge into the water and be gulped up by one of the majestic koi. There, I was not bothered by anything. I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed such peace. We sat in silence for an hour and a half, breathing in, breathing out and filling up our senses.

I rarely go into the Southern California sun without my umbrella, and on this Sunday it not only saved my scalp, but also a tiny life.

The only break in the calm was a disturbance at one end of the pond. A bee was furiously treading water, looking like a teeny motorboat driving in circles. I rescued it with the end of my umbrella so it wouldn’t become fish food. The koi, I presumed, were well fed, and the world needs all the honeybees it can get.

I could have kept the fish company for the rest of the day, but lunch was upon us, so we made our way down the dining area (we were finally figuring out where everything was!). Everyone stood quietly in line as the scent of curry wafted through the air.

Four hundred visitors descended (ascended?) upon the monks and nuns diligently preparing our delicious lunch. By the time we got to the food, some platters were empty, but there was still more than enough to put on our plates and enjoy a mindful meal.

A much-needed reminder to slow down.

I had practiced mindful eating before, but this was a novel concept for my accompanying teenager, who often ate paying more attention to her phone than to her plate. We chewed silently and slowly, savoring every bite. The tastes of the curried tofu, rice, steamed carrots and salad were vivid, the colors on our plates glowed brightly. My daughter, halfway done, leaned over and whispered to me, “This is the most delicious salad I’ve ever eaten, and I’m already full!”

Ah, if only we could enjoy such preciously appreciated meals at home! At least I had one convert now.

We waited in line to wash our dishes – the sensation of soapy water followed by a cool water rise was refreshingly pleasant on such a hot day.

Our last stop before departing the monastery grounds was a visit to the bookstore. There were more people than books, and it seemed like the two nuns handling the payment transactions were a bit overwhelmed by everyone’s enthusiasm for making purchases. We indulged in coconut ice cream and visited the donation box before heading home.

Floating Cloud Stupa – we admired it from afar and look forward to visiting it the next time we are on the grounds.

We are looking forward to our next trip to Deer Park Monastery, with a visit to the Floating Cloud Stupa, which we only saw from afar this time. When we return, we won’t get “lost” again, because no matter where we are on the grounds, that’s where we want to be.

In Honor Of Thich Nhat Hanh

According to a recent Time article, Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh, who is considered the father of mindfulness, is close to death, never having fully recovered from the stroke he suffered in 2014.

Although that report has been disputed by Plum Village (the school of Buddhism coming out of the Plum Village Monastery, which Thich Nhat Hanh founded in France), at 92, the monk is certainly frail. He has returned to the temple where he was ordained decades ago, Tu Hieu Pagoda in Hue, Vietnam, to live out the remainder of his time on Earth.

Due to his condition, Thay (“teacher”, as he is affectionately called) is unable to speak, but he still manages to serve as an example of living in the “now” and appreciating every day. Thay is considered one of the greatest teachers of Buddhism and his influence has reaches countless millions.

Mindfulness has played a significant role in my life and emotional well-being since my breast cancer diagnosis in early 2017; however, my first exposure to Thich Nhat Hanh was in the early 2000s, during a program called Speaking Of Faith, hosted by Krista Tippett on NPR. I was transfixed as I listened to the story of his life, his anti-war activism during the Vietnam War and his interpretation of Buddhism. We purchased several of his books, specifically the ones he wrote for children: Each Breath A Smile and Under The Rose Apple Tree.

Thich Nhat Hanh at Hue City, Vietnam (2007) (in dark vestments). Photo: Lưu Ly

It wasn’t until my cancer experience that Thich Nhat Hanh’s teachings resurfaced in my life. I am deeply indebted to mindfulness for taking me through cancer treatment into recovery and survivorship. And yet, even now, I understand mindfulness in only the most superficial way. Every day of my meditation practice brings me more deeply into it. It has been invaluable not only in dealing with anxiety, but also in cultivating compassion for myself, something that has not come easily.

Most recently, I’ve been utilizing mindfulness to help deal with chemo brain, which continues to plague me. When I feel stupid, can’t remember things or lose concentration, mindfulness provides the way to be more patient and understanding with myself. By staying present, I’m better able to focus. Am I good at it? No, not at all. But I do my best. It’s a process. And if I weren’t practicing mindfulness, I would be in a much worse place.

While I am Roman Catholic, I’ve found that Thich Nhat Hanh’s Buddhism resonates with me, particularly as I watch Christianity struggle with hypocrisy. The practice of mindfulness was the most important gift that I received with my cancer diagnosis, and it allowed me to find even a sliver of peace in what was a dismal situation. I am coming to accept where I am now, not holding on too tightly, but appreciating what I have.