Returning to the Root: Thich NhatHanh's Final Years in Vietnam

TLDR: "I Have Arrived, I Am Home" documents the final three years of Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh's life after his return to Tu Hieu Temple in Vietnam in 2018, following decades of teaching in the West. The film shows how, despite losing the ability to speak after a 2014 stroke, he continued to teach through presence, embodied mindfulness, and his symbolic gesture of "returning to the root"—a teaching that resonated with students globally and became visible in the funeral ceremonies watched by millions.

Who Was Thich Nhat Hanh and Why Did He Return to Vietnam?

Thich Nhat Hanh passed away on 22 January 2022 at Tu Hieu Temple in Vietnam at the age of 95. Tu Hieu was not merely a location—it was the root of his entire spiritual life. He had become a novice there at age 16 and served as its abbot. For decades, circumstances forced him into exile in the West. As a student explains in the film: "It is not Thay's will that he has to be in the West. Because of the war in Vietnam, that's why he was forced into exile. But his heart is in Vietnam, that's what we know."

After suffering a severe stroke in 2014 that left him unable to speak, Thay spent time recovering in America and France. The stroke was life-threatening—doctors initially gave him only hours to live. He emerged from the coma but his capacity for verbal teaching was lost. Yet this loss became the catalyst for his most profound teaching years. After years of planning and with support from the Vietnamese government, he returned to Tu Hieu Temple in 2018. For the final three years of his life, he dwelt in the place where he had begun his monastic journey, creating what students describe as "a happy period for Thay."

What Does "I Have Arrived, I Am Home" Mean as a Teaching?

The title phrase is not sentimental nostalgia—it is the distillation of Thay's fundamental practice teaching. As explained in the film: "I have arrived, I am home. It's a fundamental practice in Plum Village. We dwell in the present moment in the here and the now. Body and mind, we enjoy where we are, what we are doing. We don't think of anywhere else. We don't think of the past, of the future. We are totally present body and mind, here for us and for the person in front of us. We don't need to run anymore. We don't need to go anywhere. We are home, we feel that we have arrived."

For Thay, this was not abstract philosophy. After his stroke, when he lost speech, a profound gesture replaced words. A student describes: "When Thay made signs we asked questions, all kind of questions, and Thay nodded his head, or shook his head. To say yes or no." Through this basic vocabulary of yes and no, students asked what Thay desired. The answer emerged through a repeated physical sign—Thay drew a circle with his left hand, and at the end of the circle, he pointed toward his lower abdomen, then raised his hand toward his head. Students eventually interpreted this: Thay had been traveling around the world, going in circles, teaching and spreading the Dharma. "And now it's time for Thay to return to the root." He wanted to connect with his roots—his ancestors, his first temple, his original home.

How Did Thay Teach After Losing the Ability to Speak?

The loss of speech became paradoxically liberating. One of the film's central insights is that Thay's teaching in his final years transcended language entirely. A monk reflects: "What I learned from Thay is humility. I had so many surprises from Thay because when we are attendants sometimes we think that we know Thay, we understand Thay and we can guess things. But many times Thay, like a Zen master, with a sword, he cut our assumption or speculation."

Young nuns at the Dieu Tram nunnery who cared for him during those years experienced something even more direct: "They were very lucky, because they could see Thay. They had the chance to eat with Thay, to take care of Thay's place, and slowly there's a feeling of love between teacher and student. They learned a lot from Thay on how to be present for each person. Whenever they went to Thay they could feel that Thay talked a lot to them... with his eyes, with his full presence, with his movements, he made signs."

When Thay walked, even from his wheelchair, he radiated presence. A student recounts: "Thay would go out on the walk and people around just became more mindful. It created an atmosphere in the temple, of mindfulness that brought beauty, brought calm, brought peace, brought a sense of love. So I think this is Thay's great teaching of his last years. It's beyond words."

Even the moment of arrival in Vietnam embodied this presence-based teaching. Though Thay was in a wheelchair, "he wanted somebody to hold him. And he walked a few steps before he climbed back on the wheelchair. So he showed that he's really determined to go back and he was happy to touch the land of Vietnam."

What Is the Spiritual Significance of Returning to One's Roots?

Tu Hieu Temple itself carries centuries of spiritual weight. Built by mandarins and eunuchs in 1848, it features a three-door gate—a design seen across temples in Hue, Vietnam. "The middle gate is always closed, because they open it only for the king and the Abbot." When Thay returned, he inhabited that sacred threshold not as a visitor but as the recognized abbot returning home.

The teaching of "returning to the root" became central to how students understood Thay's final chapter. A Western-ordained monk explains: "Always coming back to our roots, our spiritual roots, our blood roots, our genetic roots. For us growing up in the West, being ordained in Plum Village, in France. Plum Village is our root. And when Thay came back here. Now we see that... we feel clearly in our blood, in our body that our root is here. And we are so happy. We see that our root is very deep, very ancient. There are so many generations of teachers."

Thay revisited the physical locations where he had lived as a young novice—the well, the place where he raised cattle, the spot where he read sutras. But as a student notes, "these are only memories. I think the presence of Thay in Vietnam the last three years brought a message. He got in touch with the present moment." The point was not nostalgia but embodied return—showing that even in his wheelchair, even without speech, he was still touching the present, still teaching how to come home.

How Did Thay Become a Focal Point for Spiritual Practice in Vietnam?

Though political and logistical barriers prevented the establishment of a full Plum Village center in Vietnam, Thay's physical presence transformed Tu Hieu Temple into a practice center. A student explains: "By being there in Vietnam, Thay became an object of pilgrimage. I think Thay was very aware of that. It's not easy for many people to travel outside of Vietnam. So to have Thay there, it created a focal point. Although we had difficulty to build a full Plum Village center in Vietnam. By Thay being there, Thay was effectively a practice center. Thay established a practice center in his presence."

This shift reveals a key Buddhist insight: the teacher is not separate from the teachings. Thay's mere presence—his mindful walking, his attentive silence, his embodied compassion—became the teaching itself. Students did not need to hear lectures. They could feel the atmosphere he created, observe how he held attention, witness how he moved through the temple grounds with deliberation and love.

What Happened During Thay's Final Illness and Passing?

In his last days, Thay continued to embody his teaching. A student who was present describes the experience: "To pass on with the monks and nuns around Thay singing Thay's poetry." Even in death, the community was singing—not in grief but in continuity with his life's work.

During the funeral ceremonies, which were watched by millions around the world, the quality of presence remained central. A Western practitioner who helped with online translation observed: "And seeing the participation online on a global level. There was a very clear energy every day of joy. And that's the way Thay always wants us to be."

The casket procession itself became a practice. As one student recalls: "We went very slowly, mindfully, and with so much love," following what would hold the casket—a Buddhist tradition that honors both the deceased and the community's presence together.

One of the most profound moments came on the final night. A student suddenly realized: "This is Thay's last Dharma Talk." The silence, the presence, the way Thay held his students in that moment—this was speech beyond words. Another practitioner reflects: "That for me was a great gift that we received from Thay on that last night. It is a noble silent Dharma talk."

How Does Thay Continue to Teach After His Passing?

The documentary makes clear that Thay's teaching did not end with his death. One of the most moving aspects is how his students describe his ongoing presence. A practitioner who never met Thay face to face says: "Thay doesn't just exist in his teachings and in a human person." Instead, students perceive that "he can transition beautifully the way he did."

For practitioners managing the sanghas and centers without his physical presence, the teaching has shifted but remains alive. A student notes the power of understanding a fundamental Buddhist principle: "That none of us can exist on our own in the world." Thay's passing was not an ending but a transformation—his presence continuing through the practice of his students, through the communities he founded, through the lived experience of those who embody his teachings daily.

The documentary captures the essential teaching of Thay's final years: that presence is stronger than speech, that coming home to the present moment is the deepest practice, that a teacher's passing is not loss but transformation. His return to Vietnam was not retreat but completion—a full circle drawn by his hand, pointing back to the source.

Where to Go From Here

To deepen practice in the tradition Thay established, visit Plum Village (plumvillage.org) to explore mindfulness practices, upcoming retreats, and local sangha communities worldwide. The Thich Nhat Hanh Foundation (thichnhathanhfoundation.org) offers teachings, communications, and ways to support his legacy. Many of Thay's books remain widely available—start with The Miracle of Mindfulness or Being Peace to experience his voice in written form. Consider finding a local sangha where you can practice "I have arrived, I am home" with a community of fellow practitioners.