34 | Karina

February 2015

After a few weeks, Karina grew accustomed to the pattern of her days at the Sanctuary. Every morning started at 6:00, with meditation guided by Micah, followed by yoga with Zoe. Despite her initial resistance to the practice of yoga, Karina grew to enjoy Zoe’s classes. The ritual of saluting the sun each morning as it rose over the serene terrain; the conscious work with her body, becoming aware of both its strengths and limitations; the floral aroma of incense, reminiscent of the temple where her mother took her and Prem for special occasions—all these components resounded in some deep, untapped part of her that had been hibernating in her core since childhood, since birth. The culture of her mother’s country was, for once, relevant to her: the sense of unity in body, soul and nature aligned. Karina realized what she had been missing before, the utter rightness that came from a whole that fit together as it should. At the Sanctuary, she could be herself for the first time, not hide parts of herself or try to make up for what she lacked.

The daily meditation sessions, however, continued to be difficult for her. The more time she spent sitting quietly and thinking, the more her mind was troubled by disturbing memories she had long ago buried. She saw the swimming pool with the inflatable gray raft floating in it, and Prem’s thin brown arm extending from underneath. She heard the screaming of her own voice, the ringing in her ears. She felt the cold, clammy skin of Prem’s arms, his fingertips wrinkled and white. She felt the crack of his thin ribs as she pumped his chest, his damp cheek against hers as she tried to convey life from her body to his. She felt the raw, burning sensation in her throat from screaming. And she could not forget the sight of her mother draped over Prem’s lifeless body, nor the disappointment in her eyes when she looked up and saw her. The meditation sessions left Karina feeling vulnerable in a way that didn’t seem to lessen over time. She found herself pondering how long it had taken her mother to learn to sit silently like this. What did she reflect upon, all those hours in Prem’s shrine room?

Fortunately, the rest of the day was always so busy, she could push those thoughts aside. When she wasn’t scheduled at NatMark, she worked with the others at the Sanctuary, rotating through the outdoor tasks of tending to the chickens, the beehives, the vegetable crops and the fruit trees, and churning the compost pile. Twice a day, she went down to the stables to care for the horse: brushing him, feeding him, cleaning his stall and turning him out in the field. And, with thirteen residents and assorted visitors, the house chores of cooking meals, cleaning and laundry seemed never to cease. In comparison, working at NatMark felt leisurely, even though she had taken on busier daytime shifts now that she didn’t have a class schedule to work around. The six or eight hours passed quickly, and she was proud to bring home groceries with her employee discount. August whooped when she walked in one day with a ten-pound bag of navel oranges that were marked down, and Chef Guy loved the knobby Jerusalem artichokes and seasonal persimmons she managed to find.