Thich Not Here

Phyllis Colletta was among hundreds of people who signed up for a retreat with Thich Nhat Hanh, only to learn he had been hospitalized and was unable to teach. Soon her dismay turned into delight as the power of sangha took hold.

My sole motivation for signing up for a six-day retreat in the Rocky Mountains was to see Thich Nhat Hanh. I wanted to be in his presence, and for this I would put up with the vegan food, cramped dorms, and early wake-up calls. Like many, I’d read Thay’s books and listened to his CDs, and I just wanted to absorb his peaceful energy.

My friend Marty, upon hearing of my intention to sit in the mountains with the master for a week, enthusiastically insisted on accompanying me, even though she had no idea who Thich Nhat Hanh was and had never been on a retreat. In fact, she was a little wary of “all this Buddhist stuff,” but I guess she needed a quiet vacation near some trees. So on Friday, August 21, 2009, we set off in Marty’s convertible, headed for Rocky Mountain National Park, a more-than-middle-aged spiritual version of Thelma and Louise.

Thay’s retreat was billed as a mindfulness retreat and the theme was “One Buddha Is Not Enough.” We’d soon be grumbling that “One Thay Is Not Enough” either, but the registration process was hopeful, with some nine hundred folks mindfully not butting in line or getting cranky. Yet. As we snaked our way from one card table to the next station for more information and instructions, I marveled at the mix: a grandmother-type from Wisconsin, a reluctant teenager, exhausted parents with kids, an old man in a wheelchair. Come one, come all to Thay’s retreat. They were young, old, fat, skinny, mostly (but not all) white, and all looking for love in this, the right place. And all but Marty, I suppose, here to drink in Thay’s wisdom.

By 5 p.m. on a fine Colorado summer evening we were eating dinner in silence, and I was quietly excited about the 7:30 dharma talk because I knew I would finally see Thay. The YMCA campus hosting the retreat had been teeming with soundless movement, a brown wave of monks and nuns.

We filed into the meditation hall that evening, being more reverent than usual just in case the teacher actually took notice. We sat quietly in chairs, meditated for ten minutes, listened to angelic chanting, and waited. The monastics gathered together on stage, maybe fifty of them, a strong hushed mountain of devotion.

Excerpted from the Spring 2010 issue of Buddhadharma: The Practitioner's Quarterly, available on newsstands February 23rd.

PHYLLIS COLETTA is a writer and former litigation attorney who plans to enter Upaya’s Buddhist Chaplaincy Program next year. This article is adapted from the forthcoming book, One Buddha Is Not Enough: A Story of Collective Awakening, a collection of essays published by Parallax Press.