Page 19 of Driving Beats

“Yes, but it’s more than simply thinking. I meditate here. See that rake?” I point to the tool lying on its side.

She nods.

“I use it to rake the white sand. The lines”—that she dragged her bag over—“mimic the waves from the ocean, which symbolize both fluidity and stillness at the same time.” The lines now look like someone shot them up with adrenaline… because she basically did.

She uses her toe to disturb more of the lines. “You rake the sand? Like, for real?”

Inhale. Exhale. “I do. It’s part of the ritual.”

“I’ve never heard of anyone doing this before. You do it for fun?”

My patience wears thin. “No, not for fun. I do it as a component of my meditation practice. To reduce stress, center my thoughts, and gain mental clarity.”

“By raking sand?”

I explode. “I’m trying to explain it. The rake is a tool to help me clear my mind. Does this make any sense to you at all?” Perhaps stillness isn't something she’s ever been taught to value.

Her chin raises. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child. Simply because I don’t know about this Zen Garden, doesn’t mean I’m ignorant. It seems weird to me, raking sand outside.”

I sigh and modulate my voice downward. Calm. “It’s not only the raking. I deliberately placed each of the rocks around here, in order to create balance and guide my gaze, inviting deep thought.”

“So you put these rocks out here on purpose?”

I’m done with this conversation. “Let’s go inside and I’ll show you your room.” I bend down and pick up her luggage. Using the grassy path, I proceed to the door. I don’t hear the crunching of sand under her carry-on, so I turn around. She’s walking on the grassy pathway as well. Good.

Opening the door, I wait for her to precede me into the hallway. As she passes, she says, “It seems I ruined your garden. I’ll rake it after I get settled.”

My response is immediate. “No.”

Her head tips up to mine. “I made the mess, so I should clean it up.”

“Listen, I appreciate your offer, but it’s my Zen Garden to cultivate and maintain. I’ll return it to order as part of my practice. Now, let me show you to your room.” I take off down the hallway, to the room farthest away from mine. Why did I think it was the smart thing to invite her here?

Oh yeah. Because she sacrificed some of her vacation to help me.

Damn.

Stopping in front of the guest room, I say, “Here you are.” I open the door. “There’s a dresser and closet for all your things. A bathroom is attached, which has towels. I’ll let you settle in. Text me if you need anything.” I must get away from her and practice some deep breathing exercises. Pronto.

She touches my arm. “Thanks, Coop. This means a lot to me.”

I place her luggage inside the doorway, give her a nod, and take off for my Reflection Room. Since my Zen Garden is a disaster.

Sitting on the pillow, I try to let my mind blank but the memory—both visceral and auditory—of the sand being displaced runs on repeat. At least Lillian doesn’t make an appearance this time. Instead, a short girl with an even shorter haircut and eyebrow piercing dances around my brain. After trying for over an hour to concentrate with no success, I leave for the Zen Garden. Might as well be useful and fix it up. Hopefully, I’ll be able to find the calm that was missing earlier.

As soon as I enter, I freeze. Nese has the rake in her hand and is putting lines back into the sand. I stride over to her, my temper having dissipated when I was trying to meditate.

“You don’t have to do this. Really. The process of raking soothes me.”

Dark blue eyes, the color of the deepest part of the ocean, hold my gaze. “I’ve only been out here for a short while, but I’m finding it relaxing.”

Her admission shoots through my heart. “I agree. The way the sand sounds as you rake it can be hypnotizing.”

She rakes the sand again. “I can hear that.”

I stare at her. “I never would’ve pegged you as a closeted Buddhist.”

She throws her head back and laughs. “No way. I’m not part of any sort of religion.”