Ajahn Mun Bhuridatta lit the spark that reignited Thailand’s forest-dwelling monastic flame. In the early 20th century, he wandered deep into the jungles of northeast Thailand, stripping away any hint of ceremony to refocus on the Buddha’s original instructions: strict Vinaya discipline, wandering practice, and relentless meditation. By embracing the wilderness as both teacher and refuge, he planted the seeds for a movement that prized direct insight over elaborate ritual. Stories still circulate of him entering deep samādhi under banyan trees, emerging as if reborn with fresh clarity—an image that inspired generations of monks to trade cushioned abodes for simple huts and daily alms rounds.

Ajahn Chah Subhaddo picked up that torch mid-century and deftly wove Mun’s rigorous forest ethos into a community framework. When he founded Wat Nong Pah Pong in 1954, the emphasis on simplicity and mindfulness in everyday chores—whether sweeping the courtyard or washing dishes—became a living dharma talk. His “no-frills” teaching style, peppered with down-to-earth stories and sharp one-liners, opened the door for Western seekers in an era when meditation apps and online retreats were still science fiction. By establishing Wat Pah Nanachat, the first English-language forest monastery, he built a bridge for non-Thai practitioners to experience authentic Theravāda training without losing their own cultural footing.

Fast forward to today, and the global mindfulness boom still carries echoes of those two giants. Retreat centers from California’s Abhayagiri Monastery to London’s Amaravati trace their lineage straight back to Mun’s wild jungles and Chah’s rustic hut. In a world growing ever more digitized—where people stream guided meditations on smartphones—this tradition stands out for its unvarnished invitation to step off the treadmill, carry one bowl at alms rounds, and wake up to each breath as it unfolds.