BooksBarbecue
Back Again, Rachel
Chapters (98)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. 82
  86. 83
  87. 84
  88. 85
  89. 86
  90. 87
  91. 88
  92. 89
  93. 90
  94. 91
  95. 92
  96. 93
  97. 94
  98. Acknowledgements

Over the forty-eight hours, we did oodles of group meditation, during which I spent a shameful amount of time wondering if all three of the Lentil Boys were in love with Yoga Girl. They’d have to be, surely? She was so nice. And, of course, there was the litheness. When my mind should have been stilling, I was inspecting the unkempt trio and wondering if she ever slept with any of them. Or indeed all of them? She was absolutely beautiful, but one thing I’ve learnt is never to underestimate the confidence of the most unremarkable of men.

As well as meditating, we did a few yoga classes, ate vegan food at regular intervals and swilled down as much sage tea as we could stomach. A large part of Saturday afternoon was spent eating a single raisin. About half an hour in, I realized it was maybe the twentieth time I’d done such a thing: every course on mindfulness and meditation wheeled it out to demonstrate how to slow down and live in the moment. I sighed quietly. Maybe it was time to throw in the towel for good on this meditation thing.

Late on Sunday afternoon, just as the end was in sight, one of the Lentil Boys announced a LovingKindness Meditation—an exercise in intimacy where you sat opposite another person, staring into their eyes, thinking kind and loving thoughts for ten long minutes.

It was excruciating.

Uneven numbers meant I ended up being partnered with the most whiskery of the Lentil Boys and from the way his pupils flared and dilated, he was clearly giving it socks with the LovingKindness thoughts. The only way to cope was to disappear deep inside myself.

Eventually, someone chimed something chime-y—probably a Tibetan prayer bowl, it usually was—and the longest ten minutes in eternity came to an end; this was our cue to break the gaze and start with someone new. I gave a pained smile and twisted away.

Yoga Girl called, ‘Has everyone swapped partners?’

I looked at my new person. A man. His face was as expressive as a poker but there was something going on in his eyes. Almost a smirk. Something to do with the ‘swapping partners’ comment.

Juvenile.

And yet.

I stared at him. He stared at me. I thought, I feel kindly towards you. I feel lovingly towards you.

Holding his unblinking gaze, I decided that he was returning the kind and loving thoughts. Then I actually felt something. Some sort of relief.

No one was more surprised than me.

Even as I gave a wobbly smile, tears started to spill from my eyes. Heavy drops plopped into my cupped hands and there were none of the awkward pats or fumbling for tissues that usually accompany public crying. We simply sat still and held the gaze.

When the bowl chimed, the man tilted his head, asking a silent question: was I okay?