Behind Karina, a door opened and August hurried past her down the stairs. “Morning meditation,” he said. “Don’t want to be late.”

“What time is it?” she said, self-conscious in her thin T-shirt and shorts.

“Six. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.” The gongs increased in frequency. Karina was reluctant to appear out of step with the group, so she trailed August down the stairs.

Outside, the chilly air raised bumps on Karina’s arms. Everyone was seated in a grid-like formation, cross-legged with eyes closed. A stick of incense burned on the patio table, releasing a sweet fragrance into the air. Micah, standing at the front of the group, pointed to an open spot in the front corner of the patio, where Karina took a seat in the same position as the others.

“Close your eyes,” Micah intoned in a low voice. “Follow your breath as it enters and leaves your body, making each breath deeper and longer than the last.” Karina tried to focus on his instructions but found herself straining to discern which way he was moving, when he was close to her. The breathing of those around her was audibly heavy.

“Breathe.” Micah modeled a long, deep breath. “Breathe in . . . breathe out.” Karina tried to follow his rhythm. “Pay attention to your thoughts.” He spoke in a voice that seemed to be right on her. Karina shivered again as a light breeze passed over her. She straightened her spine and pushed her shoulders back. “If there are intrusive thoughts, gently push them away,” Micah said, from somewhere farther away. “They are not productive; they will not serve you.”

Scattered, random thoughts entered Karina’s mind: skimming the top of the water on the surfboard, the delicious burrito on the beach, her vacant apartment, James, Yoga Girl and her high ponytail, her little red Fiat, the photo of Karina and James at their picnic, the lizards and coconuts in Ecuador.

She was startled by the deep, reverberating sound of the gong again, as it rang three times. After its last echo faded away, she opened her eyes, feeling like a failure. The sun was rising now and the view of the distant hills was beautiful, with a light mist on the horizon. Micah nodded toward her as he sat facing the group. She folded her knees in front of her and wrapped her arms around them, mindful of her immodest attire.

“Karina,” Micah said, “your first time meditating?”

She nodded. “I’m not very good at it.”

He smiled. “You’ll get better. It takes daily practice, to calm your mind and direct your thoughts. You’ll have your breakthrough, and it will be beautiful when it happens.” Micah turned to the group. “Does anyone else want to share thoughts about this morning’s practice?”

August cleared his throat. “It helps . . . it helps center me. I find, on the days I can really focus during the morning meditation, it helps with the cravings.”

Micah nodded as August spoke. “It helps you avoid thinking about getting high?”