I’m writing to you from the Garrison Institute, where I’ve just arrived for Mind & Life’s Contemplative Education Summer Research Institute (SRI)—a sacred gathering where I’ll be speaking, listening, and supporting the next generation of researchers and practitioners devoted to weaving mindfulness and compassion into the fabric of education.

As I take in the conversations beginning to bloom here—about what truly sustains us as humans, educators, and caregivers—I keep returning to a quieter theme that’s been anchoring my own life. Not quite happiness, not quite ease… but something more grounded. A deep sense of contentment.

And this month, I’m writing to share a life update that feels deeply rooted in that quiet knowing—and in the power of community.

In my last newsletter, I hinted at some big transitions. One of them began a year ago, when I received an invitation from Pháp Dũng and Pháp Lưu—senior monastics and stewards of Thầy’s legacy at Deer Park Monastery. They asked me to join a small group of educators to begin visioning a school inspired by the teachings of Thích Nhất Hạnh—a school that could become a living expression of mindful education, grounded in interbeing. That seed has begun to sprout.

The Thích Nhất Hạnh School of Interbeing is planned to open in Fall 2026, with two mixed-age classes:

• 15 children entering grades K–1, and
• 15 children entering grades 2–3.

If your family might be called to this path, I’d love to hear from you. You can fill out this interest form or simply reach out with questions.

This school is part of a larger vision—a village.

Nestled in the foothills of Deer Park, a mindful, intentional community is forming. The Brothers live in Solidity Hamlet, the Sisters in Clarity Hamlet, and our family will be the first residents of Simplicity Hamlet—the new lay community.

We’re not moving to escape anything—we’re moving closer to what matters.

As many of you know, my life’s work has always lived at the intersection of education, community, and spiritual practice. In the years ahead, my husband, Chihiro, and I are pouring our hearts into helping bring this school to life, and co-creating a Beloved Community where children and parents can grow together, nourished by practice, presence, and place.

It’s our deepest hope that our son, Kailash, will be part of its very first class.

I will also be serving as an active Board Member, and this Fall we’ll begin recruiting staff and volunteers. If you are an educator or community member who feels called to explore how your gifts might serve this vision, please complete this brief form.

As my dear friend Sam Shapiro, Head of School at Marin Montessori, once beautifully said to me: “This isn’t a school with a mission—it’s a mission with a school.”

The mission is to nurture whole humans. To learn in rhythm with the land. To live the teachings—right across from the flourishing Happy Farm, modeled after the one in Plum Village.

And beneath the move, the school, and this unfolding community, there’s a quieter rhythm shaping it all—a deep sense of enoughness.

Sixteen years ago, during my first visit to Plum Village, I purchased the only piece of Thầy’s calligraphy I’ve ever owned. Just one word in Sanskrit: Samtusta. Beneath it, he wrote: You have enough.

I didn’t know then how much that message would become my compass, quietly foreshadowing this very moment.

Psychologist Daniel Cordaro calls contentment “the knowledge of enough.” A sustainable state of inner wholeness—not dependent on perfect conditions, but arising from our relationship with what is. “All other emotions require external input,” he writes. “Contentment is sourced entirely from within.”

This transition isn’t about chasing happiness. It’s about listening to what is quietly, clearly true.

It’s what Lynne Twist describes in her Principle of Sufficiency: “When you let go of trying to get more of what you don’t really need, it frees up oceans of energy to make a difference with what you have.”

So today, from a place of grounded joy, I’m making a humble and wholehearted ask:

We’re launching a $500,000 seed fund to support the founding of the Thích Nhất Hạnh School of Interbeing.

Whether you feel called to give $50, $500, $5,000—or even to become a founding donor with a gift of $25,000 or more—every offering matters. You can make a contribution here.

This is the first time I’ve made a fundraising ask in this way. And I do so rooted in clarity, purpose, and trust. “Money, given to make a difference, does. It is blessed money.”

Below, you’ll find a small gift from my heart to yours: a shareable card with one of my favorite quotes from Lynne Twist on sufficiency. May it serve as a gentle reminder of the abundance that lives within and between us.

Thank you for witnessing this unfolding. For walking with us. For believing in a way of life that honors slowness, simplicity, and shared belonging.

With a tender and content heart,

P.S. Please share this with families, educators, or visionaries who may feel called to this path.