by Zoe May
I smirk. ‘I just think you need to consider the practicalities,’ I comment, when an idea hits me. ‘Maybe Buddha was wearing a nappy of some description. Did they have nappies back then?’
‘Seriously?’ Seb tuts, standing up. ‘You need some spirituality in your life.’
He gestures for me to get up.
‘Come on. Let’s meditate,’ he insists.
Chapter Ten
‘Where are we going?’ I ask as we leave the guesthouse, the morning sunlight illuminating the same path we walked along last night, revealing pretty flowers and shrubbery that I hadn’t noticed before.
‘To the meditation studio,’ Seb explains, marching along.
‘The meditation studio?’ I echo. ‘What the hell is that? Buddha didn’t have a “meditation studio”, he just had a tree. Isn’t going to a meditation studio defeating the point?’
‘What point?’ Seb asks, eyeing me with amusement.
‘Well you’re meant to use meditation to transcend your surroundings, right? Reach a higher plane and all that, but if you’re already in a boujee meditation studio then aren’t you kind of cheating? Or is this, like, meditation for beginners?’ I ask.
Seb laughs. ‘It’s not “meditation for beginners”!’ he insists, doing air quotes.
Suddenly, he stops, drawing to a halt, as though a thought has occurred to him.
‘Hey, maybe you’re right, actually,’ he says. ‘Maybe we should meditate under a tree.’
He peers along the path, squinting into the distance at a copse of trees.
‘Err…’ I utter.
A mangey-looking stray dog wanders along the path. Seb is too focused on peering into the distance at the trees to notice, but I back away, eyeing the dog warily. It sniffs at the ground and doesn’t look remotely interested in me or Seb, but the last thing I need is to get bitten by a possibly rabid dog. Animals of the dog’s ilk would almost certainly bother us if we decided to meditate under a tree for hours, and then there’s the mosquitos to worry about. And the blistering sun, which will be beating down by mid-day and…actually…
‘Well, I have only just arrived from London, and I suppose I am kind of a beginner,’ I reason. ‘I think maybe the meditation studio will do for now.’
I start pacing along the path, trying to ignore Seb smirking out of the corner of my eye, having totally called my bluff.
The walk to the studio isn’t quite what I imagined. I thought the ashram was all exotic gardens and temples and pretty guesthouses, I didn’t realize parts of it are built-up. Well, when I say build-up, what I mean is that the ashram has an ashram version of a shopping center. Winding off the path is a development that looks quite modern and plush, containing a gift shop, a supermarket, even a clothes store. I hesitate as we pass it, in shock.
‘Can we…?’ I edge a little closer, squinting towards the windows of the gift shop. ‘Can we just take a little look?’ I suggest.
‘Buddha didn’t shop before meditating,’ Seb points out, irritatingly.
I ignore him and wander a little closer, catching sight of the display within the gift shop. There are so many cute things: candles, crystals, dream catchers, bath products, and cushions. The most gorgeous cushions! I edge closer. They look handmade, each one emblazoned with the most beautiful embroidered designs featuring emblems quintessential to India – elephants, lotuses, tigers shells, peacocks and more. They’re so gorgeous. IKEA doesn’t have anything like them. Not even remotely like them. Or Dunelm. Or even Habitat. They’d look so perfect in my living room. It’s been in need of a pop of color and these cushions are just the ticket.
‘Rachel? Rachel?!’ I hear Seb saying, his voice weirdly distant.
The cushions had me under a spell. I tear my attention away, and turn back to him, blinking.
‘Yep?’
‘Aren’t we meant to be meditating?!’ he reminds me.
‘Yes, but…’ I steal another glance at the cushions. ‘I think I should get a cushion, you know, to sit on…’
I edge towards the shop.
‘They have cushions in the studio. They have mats too,’ Seb informs me.
Of course, they do.
‘Well, I might just buy a few anyway. They look amazing!’ I enthuse.
Meditation can wait. It’s not every day that you find cushions this gorgeous.
‘Alright,’ Seb sighs, looking a little despondent. ‘I mean, the shop’s still going to be here on the way back though. It would probably be easier to get the things you want on your way home, rather than lug stuff all the way to the studio and then back, but it’s up to you.’
He perches on a nearby wall.
He has a point. It’s not like, if I’m totally honest with myself, I intend to buy just one cushion. I definitely want two or three. Okay, more like four, or five, or half a dozen since I may as well round it up. I picture my living room. Six of those cushions would look amazing. And maybe I could grab a few candles, put them on the coffee table. I could get a dreamcatcher too as a souvenir or a present for Priya. That is a fairly sizeable haul and it would be a bit of a drag to lug it all the way to the meditation studio and back.
‘I just hope the cushions won’t have gone by the time we’re done meditating,’ I comment, thinking out loud.
‘They’ll be there,’ Seb insists. ‘I’ve been walking past that shop every day for weeks and those cushions have been there the whole time.’
I hesitate, not sure whether to leave it. Seb may well be right and the cushions may still be in the shop by the time we’re done meditating, but it’s still a game of chance. After all, you never know when a savvy shopper is going to swoop in and grab the thing you’ve had your eye on for weeks. I’ve been burned that way before and I don’t want to be burned again, and yet, I feel kind of bad on Seb, sitting boredly on the wall. He’s clearly keen to crack on with some hardcore meditation, and he has taken me under his wing since I got here, helping with my suitcase, accompanying me to the main hall last night, and letting me use his computer and his dongle. It is probably a bit unreasonable of me to leave him sitting out here while I splurge in the gift shop. Also, if I know he’s out here waiting, it’s not like I’ll be able to give the task my full attention. I need to have a clear head. If I’m feeling pressured, I might make the wrong decisions, like the time I panic-bought a truly awful space age lava lamp in IKEA because Paul was hassling me to wrap things up since a footy game due to start.
‘Okay, I’ll leave it. Let’s go meditate,’ I relent.
Seb glances up from watching a bright red caterpillar make its way across the paving stones at his feet. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yeah, I’ll get them on the way back. You’re right, that’s a better idea,’ I say.
Seb smiles. ‘Okay, cool.’
We walk along the path and I know I should probably be thinking about deeper stuff, spiritual stuff or whatever, but I’m still thinking about those cushions. They really are going to look great in my living room. I can’t wait to get them. At least some good will have come from my trip to India. Paul may not want to be with me, but the plus side to that is that I no longer need to pretend that I don’t love home furnishings. I can splash out on cushions to my heart’s content. I can make my living room look as cute and cozy as I like, and I don’t have to feel remotely bad about it.
I glance over at Seb. While I’ve been daydreaming about my living room, he seems to have been lost in thought about something too. He’s frowning slightly to himself, his expression faraway. I wonder whether he’s thinking back to his time in the ski resort, to his wild days. I’m still curious about what he got up to back then. Was it really so bad that he had to become celibate? I still want to pry, but I don’t feel it’s my place. I have only known the guy for just over a day.
We carry on walking, lost in our own private worlds of thought. Ordinarily, I’d probably find walking in silence with someone I hardly know to be quite uncomfortable, but I don’t feel like that around Seb. Inste
ad, I feel relaxed. Maybe it’s the effect of being on holiday, or the radiant glow of the sun, or the gorgeous soaring palm trees dotted along the path, but I feel quite peaceful. The humiliation of my encounter with Paul last night has faded surprisingly rapidly. I still have some work to do to get my head around the fact that he doesn’t want to be with me. It still feels raw and my trip to India has certainly not gone to plan but maybe being here will be a good thing. As long as I stay out of his way, having a bit of sunshine and some free time to think and come to terms with the end of my relationship is probably exactly what I need. I packed a few notebooks too. Maybe I can try journaling. Or at least jotting down some thoughts on how I’m going to overcome the latest stumbling block in my Life List.
‘Here it is!’ Seb says, stopping at the end of a winding path leading to a small building with plate glass walls, which is presumably the studio.
‘Looks nice,’ I note as we wander down the path.
Whoever looks after the gardens at the studio clearly has a love of horticulture as they’re beautiful, blooming with the most colorful array of flowers. Although the studio has glass walls, it’s shaded by palm trees at the back. In front is a tiered, stone fountain. A stream of water trickles out of it, making a gushing, relaxing sound. The fact that I can hear the fountain so clearly reminds me once again just how peaceful the ashram is. All of the sounds I’m used to aren’t apparent here. There are no London buses chugging along, no honking cars. There are no harassed-looking office workers, pounding the pavement, barking into their phones. There are no train announcements or planes swooping overhead. There’s no ding on my phone because someone’s liked a post on Facebook or shared a cat video on WhatsApp. There’s certainly no sound of a ringtone because Paul is calling. It’s just quiet. Perfectly quiet. Weirdly and entrancingly quiet. I smile to myself.
‘You’re really taken with that fountain, aren’t you?’ Seb comments, piercing my thoughts.
I look over at him.
‘Oh, yeah, I guess. It’s pretty’ I reply, taken aback.
‘Maybe they do fountains in the gift shop. Do you have a garden back home?’ he asks.
I feel my eyes widen as the thought sinks in. I’ve never even thought about water features.
‘Yes, we do have a garden actually,’ I muse.
‘We?’ Seb echoes.
‘Me and…’ I hesitate. ‘Paul. We were living together, but I guess we’re not anymore.’ I smile awkwardly.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Seb replies, grimacing. ‘I didn’t mean to remind you.’
‘It’s fine! I need to get used to it.’ I shrug, although I don’t feel quite as carefree inside as I’m making out.
‘I didn’t realize you two were living together,’ Seb comments.
It occurs to me that I didn’t mention that part when I explained about our break-up last night.
‘Yeah, it was pretty serious,’ I laugh, my voice chipper but unconvincing.
‘I see,’ Seb replies, smiling sympathetically.
His smile is so sweet and inflected with concern that I feel something lurch inside. A feeling of self-pity and deep disappointment that I’ve been trying to keep at bay through making jokes about Buddha’s bowel movements and fantasizing about cushions threatens to raise its ugly head. The trickling of the fountain could soon mirror the flow of my tears if I’m not careful.
‘So, let’s meditate!’ I suggest brightly.
‘Okay, let’s do it!’ Seb concurs, with equally strained enthusiasm.
I can tell he’s a bit worried about me, but what can I do? I can’t let it out, unleashing a torrent of suppressed tears. Seb has witnessed quite a lot of drama in just 24 hours of knowing me, the last thing I need to do is start blubbing away on his shoulder.
He approaches the meditation studio and pulls one of the sliding doors aside.
‘Do they just leave things unlocked here?’ I comment. ‘Don’t you need to ask anyone to use this place?’
‘No.’ Seb gestures for me to step inside. ‘They just leave it open so anyone can come and meditate whenever they feel like it.’
‘That’s very trusting,’ I reply, not really sure who ‘they’ are, but I’m guessing it’s whoever owns the studio, be that the guru or someone else.
I follow Seb inside. I can see immediately why he’d rather meditate here than under a tree. The studio is so lovely. Dream-catchers dangle from the ceiling and the floor is covered in overlapping rugs, all mismatched and threadbare and spread out at odd angles, but the affect is charming and homely. Alongside one of the walls are some rolled up yoga matts, cushions, even blankets.
‘This is so cute! I love it,’ I gush.
‘It’s nice, isn’t it?’ Seb comments, as he wanders over to a cabinet in the corner of the studio.
He pulls open a drawer and retrieves a long thin stick from a narrow packet. It takes me a moment to realize it’s incense.
‘Sage and bergamot okay with you?’ Seb asks, looking up from the packet.
‘Yep, fab! Love a bit of sage,’ I insist, even though I barely know what sage smells like.
Seb smiles as he takes a box of matches from the drawer. He lights the incense stick and then places it in a holder on top of the cabinet. It begins gently burning down, emitting spirals of fragrant smoke. I pluck a cushion from the selection alongside the wall. The cushion I choose is made from cheap purple satin and it’s nowhere near as pretty or unique as the ones in the gift shop, but it’s large and soft and should be good for meditating.
‘So, where shall we sit?’ I ask, appraising the floor of the studio, and wondering if there’s a special meditation spot.
‘Wherever you like,’ Seb replies, grabbing a cushion for himself.
‘Okay.’
I plonk my cushion down in the middle of the room and sit down cross-legged on it, feeling pretty happy with my choice of spot. I have a good view through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the fountain and the garden outside. With its glass walls, the studio’s a bit like being in a pod within a botanical garden. It’s really quite lovely.
Seb places his cushion next to mine and sits down, effortlessly adopting the lotus position.
‘Wow, you can do that!’ I remark, surprised.
‘It took me a while, but I got there in the end,’ Seb tells me, as he lowers his hands to his knees and places them palm upwards, drawing his forefinger and thumb together to form a circle. He closes his eyes.
‘Are you… starting?’ I ask.
‘Yes,’ Seb says, keeping his eyes shut.
‘Okay, well I suppose I’ll start too,’ I state, placing my hands palm upwards on my knees and mirroring the thumb forefinger thing.
I close my eyes. A few moments pass. I try to get into the zone, but I feel ridiculous and the silence in the room is deafening. Something about us both sitting here like yogis, not talking, amuses me. It’s too much for my British uptightness and I can’t help laughing. A giggle escapes my lips. I attempt to conceal it with a cough.
‘Sorry,’ I mutter, opening my eyes to peek at Seb.
He opens his eyes a crack and gives me a side-long look, the corners of his lips curling into a reluctant smile. Relieved that he’s smiling, I allow myself to laugh more freely.
‘Oh god! I’m sorry! It’s just this, and us, and the way we’re sitting and… Oh my God!’ I laugh, dabbing my eyes.
Seb laughs too, but it’s more a polite laugh than the hysterics that seem to be taking hold of me.
‘You’ll get used to it,’ he insists, still maintaining his meditation pose perfectly. ‘It’ll feel less weird soon. You just have to give in to it.’
‘Sorry Seb. I’m just not very spiritual. I’m sorry,’ I say, as I desperately try to stop laughing.
I force myself to draw in a deep breath, but it’s shaky and I’m still worried I’m going to crack up.
‘You’ll get there.’ Seb frowns slightly. ‘I think.’
I draw in a deep breath, trying to calm myself down.
This place is crazy. One minute a fountain is practically bringing me to the brink of tears and now sitting cross-legged pretending to be a yogi is making me hysterical. I need to pull myself together. I take another, longer, raggedy breath.
‘Right, I can do this,’ I assert, attempting to regain my composure.
I sit, back straight, legs crossed, palms up, and close my eyes again.
‘I’ve got this,’ I tell myself, aloud.
‘Yes. You do have to be silent though,’ Seb remarks.
‘Okay, will do. Do you have any tips? Like, what am I meant to do? Just keep quiet and try to clear my mind?’ I ask, getting my question out there before Seb gets too into the zone and is no longer accessible to the outside world.
‘You’re right. I should have given you some tips,’ Seb says. ‘Sorry.’
I open my eyes to find him turning to me.
‘So, what you do is close your eyes and concentrate on your breathing. In, out. Long, deep breaths. Focus on your breath. The goal is to clear your mind and rise above all those thoughts that are always clamoring for attention in our minds, but it’s not easy,’ Seb says. ‘You’ll have loads of thoughts coming in, but you have to just try not to get too caught up in them. It takes practice.’
‘Okay…’ I utter, feeling a bit boggled. ‘So I just need to not think?’
Seb smiles encouragingly. ‘The best way to do it is to think of your thoughts like passing cars or buses. One comes along and you go, “Oh, a red bus”, and another comes along and you go, “Ah, a grey car” and you just observe the thoughts but you don’t get carried away with them. You just let them pass you by. You don’t hop on board, if that makes sense?’
I nod. ‘Yes, it does actually,’ I concur, warming to the concept.
‘Good,’ Seb replies, looking pleased.
‘So, what’s the end goal?’ I ask, clearing my throat and sitting up a little straighter.
Seb laughs. ‘The end goal?’ He raises an eyebrow.