Single Wide Female: The Bucket List Mega Bundle - 24 Books (Books #1-24) (77 page)

“Samantha!” WindStar appeared in my pagoda and quickly switched the radio off. She looked very flustered, and nowhere near the peaceful state that I’d seen her in earlier.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” I winced. “I was just trying to listen to music and then I couldn’t turn it down and then—”

“It’s okay.” WindStar took a deep breath and smiled at me. “It’s all okay. Just a few kinks to work out. When you first begin meditating, or if you’ve had an especially stressful week, getting to that place of peace can be very difficult. All of these thoughts and distractions pop up.”

“Exactly.” I shook my head. “Every time I close my eyes my mind goes wild.”

“That’s perfectly normal. Just try to remember that you can’t force it. You have to allow it, even invite it. The best way to invite it is in quiet, still space.”

I grimaced. I hadn’t exactly been quiet or still since I’d started meditating. WindStar was kind enough not to point that out.

“Why don’t you try the sand maze? It’s quite soothing—and quiet.”

She smiled again. She smiled far too often. I felt as if she was just being nice. But I did appreciate the effort.

As WindStar stepped out of the pagoda, I peered around her. I noticed that the peaceful woman who had been perched on the top of the rock was limping slowly away from it. I winced and ducked back inside the pagoda before she could see me. I was fairly certain that my loud whales were the reason that she’d fallen off the rock.

Maybe meditation just wasn’t going to work for me.

I sat back down heavily on the cushion that was not so fluffy anymore. I’d expected this task to be so simple, but it was proving to be one of the hardest things that I’d done so far. I felt disappointed as I tugged the sand maze closer to me. I picked up the tiny little rake. I didn’t think that it was going to help me at all, but at least it was something I could do. What disaster could I cause with a sand maze?

I eased the tiny rake along the intricate circular pattern. At first it reminded me of the mazes I would pencil in as a child. Then it reminded me of the doodles I would make in the margins of my homework papers. Then it began to make me think of the intricate patterns reflected in all things natural—from the weave of a leaf, to the endless symmetry of a spider web.

As I watched the grains of sand part with the movement of the small rake, I did begin to relax. The visual of creating such tiny movement was enough to keep me focused and begin to ease me into a calmer state. I stopped paying attention to how I was moving the little rake and let it begin to flow into its own path. But the little rake was not as strong as it should have been, or I was pushing a little harder than a little farmer would have been—either way, the rake snapped.

I sighed as I looked at the two pieces of rake. The only thing that I’d found that worked to relax me was gone.

Maybe this was a sign to let me know that my path would always be broken.

I thought of all of the disappointments I’d faced in life. There were quite a few. I had made it my goal not to dwell on the negative anymore, but with a tiny little rake broken in half, what else could I focus on? I felt defeated.

I was just about to give up and walk out when I remembered what Max had said to me. He had asked if I really thought people could change. My pattern had always been to give in and back away when things got tough. That was why I had created the bucket list in the first place—to do all of the things that I’d used my weight as an excuse to avoid.

Now I had the opportunity to give in, or to do the impossible and make a real change. I was faced with a challenge, but instead of trying to solve it, I was ready to run.

The rake had served the purpose of moving the sand. My finger could do the job just as well. I stuck my fingertip into the sand and began to move it slowly through the pattern. It was even more enchanting to feel the sand move beneath my touch. It seemed as if the tiny grains were parting just for me.

As a rush of peace washed over me, I closed my eyes. I didn’t even have to see the maze to follow the pattern. My finger traced the path as if it was drawn by some invisible force. It felt as if something was tickling along the skin of my finger. I smiled at the sensation.

Within moments that tickling sensation gave way to something much different. It became a burning. I tried to ignore it at first. I figured it was jut my body’s way of distracting me. As the burning continued, I recognized it right away. It was a fire ant! I gasped, as I knew that my finger was about to swell up and get pretty angry-looking. I drew my hand back from the sand maze only to discover that there were a dozen ants crawling up my arm underneath the baggy sleeve of my poet’s shirt.

“No!” I shrieked and began smacking at my arm.

Chapter 7

The fire ants didn’t seem to enjoy my attempt at authority. I began to feel burning sensations all over my arm. At this point shrieking was about all I could do. I shrieked and smacked myself. Without consideration for the rest of the people engaged in meditation, I flung off my easily removed poet’s shirt, hoping that I would fling off the fire ants as well.

Then I noticed that they had begun crawling up my legs! I knew within moments they would be encroaching upon a very delicate area where no fire ant should be allowed to roam! In panic, I ran. I ran fast. I ran right through the middle of the open area with no shirt, and quite a gallop in my step.

I was still shrieking and slapping, only now it wasn’t my arms that I was striking. I made it to the waterfall and jumped right into the pond along with all of the beautiful fish. Fire ants are not always appeased by water, but luckily for me, these ants seemed to give up.

I ended up sitting in a perfect lotus position. I released a deep sigh of contentment as the burning began to subside.

“I have to say, that is a brand new way of meditating.” WindStar stood beside the pond with my shirt in her hand. “Although many do enjoy doing it in the nude.”

“I’m sorry. There were fire ants in my—” I stumbled over the final words. “Well—in my pants.”

I had to give WindStar a lot of credit for keeping a straight face as she offered me a hand up. I took it and climbed out of the water. I pulled my shirt on, though it caught on the wooden beads that I was wearing and threatened to strangle me.

WindStar helped me to tug it down.

“I think what you need is a more serene place to meditate. I know the perfect spot. Follow me.”

She began walking up a narrow trail that led into the woods. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to try anything at this point. Was meditation really for me? Was I just someone who could not reach my inner peace no matter how hard I tried?

When we emerged from the tree line there was a small pond in front of us. It was surrounded by reeds and the hanging limbs of willow trees. I had not witnessed anything more beautiful, other than what I’d seen in paintings.

“Wow.”

“I know.” WindStar smiled proudly. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“I came here when I was about your age. I’d just started on my own path and I’d been feeling very lost. My teacher tried everything with me. She even tried having me stand on my head. But I couldn’t find that calm place inside myself. One day she brought me here and she told me that she would not be back for me until I had found my peace.”

“She left you here?” I gulped back my thoughts on that.

“Yes, she did. I was freaking out a bit, really. I thought I would starve. I thought I would have to survive off berries and pond water. I fretted for about an hour and then I decided to give it a try. It wasn’t long before I found my peaceful place. My teacher never even left. She’d had no intention of going anywhere. She knew that this place was what I needed.”

“That’s a beautiful story.” I sighed as I looked over at the water. “But I’m not sure it will work for me.”

“It may and it may not. But don’t worry, I’ll be back for you.” She gave my arm a light squeeze. “Just allow it, Samantha.”

She walked back through the trees.

For a moment I did panic. I wasn’t sure that I would be able to find my way back to the pagodas and the tall rock. I wasn’t sure that I trusted WindStar to really come back for me.

I began to think that I wasn’t really being given a serene place to meditate. It felt more like I was being quarantined for the sake of the other meditators. It was probably for the best, since I was fairly certain the woman who had fallen off the rock would have to seek some medical treatment.

I walked toward the edge of the pond. In the center was a large flat rock. There were smaller rocks that led out to it. I knew that was where I was supposed to sit. It seemed rather risky to me to walk across slippery rocks, but I knew that I had to try.

Carefully I stepped onto the first one. The water was shallow around it. I could see little tadpoles darting around in it. I moved to the next rock. I braced myself as I stepped out onto the third rock. The water was a little deeper, but still shallow enough that I could easily wade right out if I needed to.

When I reached the large flat rock I found that it was warmed by the sun. Even in the middle of all of the natural beauty, I felt as if I’d failed.

I didn’t think that I was going to be able to meditate. I figured I would just sit there and enjoy the environment until it was time to leave. I was quite disappointed that I hadn’t been able to master the one skill that I was certain could help me get over the barriers of my fear.

I did my best to avoid thinking about it by soaking up the nature around me. I gazed up at the billowing white clouds in the sky. I smiled to myself as I remembered watching the clouds when I was a child.

It had felt innocent then—with the scent of summer on the breeze and the promise of everything and anything stretched out before me. I never thought about being an adult and paralyzed by fear—or being so insecure that I couldn’t make a choice. I never thought about bills, or the pressure of society, or how I would look in a bathing suit. In fact, I didn’t think much of anything as I’d watched those fluffy examples of perfection float by.

Chapter 8

Before I knew it, I was beginning to relax. Then I heard a few birds chirping in the trees. The sound caused a rush of happiness to flood through me. Many of my best memories were punctuated by the sounds of nature, though I hadn’t realized that until just that moment.

My thoughts began to drift away as easily as the clouds floated by. I closed my eyes. The subtle lullaby of the water lapping at the side of the pond filled my senses. It was something I would never have noticed before, but now that I was still and relaxed, it sounded like the meaning of life. There weren’t words to describe what I was experiencing; it was just a deep sense of connection.

At some point I slipped away, into an untethered state where I felt as weightless and free as the clouds above me. It was a feeling similar to when I floated in the water. Only this was a sensation of being completely detached. I was drifting as seamlessly as the clouds.

As I drifted, I heard a faint splashing. Then the splashing sound became louder. I had a slight instinct to open my eyes, but the detached state I was in made me think that all was just fine. It was such a lovely sensation not to be constantly nervous.

When the splashing was so close that it seemed like it was right beside me, I did give in and open my eyes—only everything looked slightly different. It was a little more fuzzy than I recalled. Just in front of me was a little girl wading and splashing through the water. From what I’d seen there were no children at the class. It seemed odd to me that the girl would be out in the middle of nowhere. Some part of me felt as if I was dreaming.

“What are you doing?”

I wasn’t sure if I had actually spoken or not. The little girl turned to look at me with a wide gap-toothed smile. I immediately recognized her. She wasn’t some stranger. She was me. I didn’t know what to think about looking into the eyes of my child self. It was powerful—and a little worrying.

Had I lost my mind? Had I slipped and hit my head on one of the rocks?

“Looking for a prince.” She giggled and ran off through the water.

I stared after her for a long time. So much of my childhood had been packed away in the back of my mind. But that memory was real. I had spent a lot of time playing in the little pond near the house. My mother had told me a story that kissing a frog could turn it into a prince. So I had kissed a lot of frogs! I laughed at the thought. The laughter bubbled up from deep within me.

Suddenly I opened my eyes. I realized only then that my eyes hadn’t been open before. The laughter that spilled out of me continued, but tears also formed in my eyes. They weren’t tears of grief for the little girl I had forgotten, but tears of joy for getting in touch with her again. It was so easy for me to look back on different parts of my life and think that I was a different person then, but I wasn’t.

That little girl hunting down frogs was still me. Only I’d forgotten just how magical I was. I used to spend hours creating stories in my mind. I would act out adventures or share them with my friends. I was never satisfied with just being where I was. I imagined exploring the world, learning new languages, dancing on the tops of trees. Nothing had limits then.

That was what I needed to remember in order to move forward in my life. As a child I knew the secret that all children do, but too soon forget. Life was never meant to be so serious. Life wasn’t created with walls and ceilings. Life was created with a pulse, an instinct for survival, and the ability to experience pure joy.

I knew then, without question, that I would create. My true passion was to write—to use words to transport, to inspire, and to communicate with those who read my books. I no longer felt anxious about moving forward from the world I had created around me. I considered it a cave that I was ready to emerge from.

I felt such a deep sense of peace—as if there was never a question as to how I would make my living. Quite a bit of the anxiousness that I tended to feel whenever I thought about writing had disappeared. In fact, I was so inspired, that I couldn’t wait to get home and get to writing.