Authors: Jessica Brody
The woman says this like she’s reciting poetry or something, and I have to keep myself from laughing because I know that would not go over well with my mother.
By the end of the first day, it’s pretty safe to say that this place is not exactly geared toward my demographic. All of the classes that I reluctantly sit through are filled with two kinds of people: (1) the Northern California hippies who go to places like this for the fun of it (One man’s spiritual retreat for inner growth is another man’s amusement park) and (2) the New Age midlife crisis victims who have lost their way in the world and are looking for guidance.
And then, of course, there’s me. The one person in the room who would rather be watching E! I’m sorry, but doing yoga in a hundred-degree room while I’m sweating my face off and feeling like I might actually pass out at any given moment is not my idea of an off-the-hook Saturday afternoon. And the 100 percent organic vegan food that they serve around here for meals (and dessert) is just about as unappetizing as it sounds.
So when I finally crawl into the unfamiliar bed that night and pull the scratchy organic sheets up to my chin, all I can think about is how in less than twenty-four hours I’ll be back in my own room, with my own dairy-delicious food, talking to people
who don’t readily use terms like
oneness
and
self-love
and
the Tao
(which, by the way, I’ve learned is actually pronounced with a
D
, begging the obvious question of why they just don’t spell it
Dao
.)
Did my mom honestly think that she could drag me here and all my problems would just vanish into thin air? That after two days of folding my body into highly unnatural positions, eating cheesecake made out of tofu, and listening to people preach the wonders of inner peace, I would suddenly no longer feel the agony of Mason’s betrayal? Did she completely forget what it’s like to be in high school?
Because no matter what happens here over the weekend, come Monday morning I will have to face it all over again. The humiliation. The rejection. The heartbreak. And the worst part, the feeling of total and utter helplessness. Knowing that what Heather and Mason did to me was wrong, but I’m completely powerless to do anything about it.
The next morning, my mom and I are sitting in a circle of approximately fifteen people in the middle of Zen Garden 1 while an animated, middle-aged man named Rajiv, dressed in a flowing white wraparound top and matching pants, walks barefoot in the grass behind us. Every word out of his mouth seems perfectly choreographed with his position on the ground and the movement of his hands.
“Life is a balancing act!” he says energetically in a rich and melodic Indian accent as he passes behind me. “Everything in this universe has an equal opposite.” He lays his hands out flat in front
of him and then turns them over in a seeming attempt to mime the concept of opposites. Like we’ve never heard of it before.
I look over to see my mom nodding thoughtfully, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes because here we are being lectured about how to live our lives by a man who dresses in all white a good four months after Labor Day.
“The universe balances itself out by creating a mirror image of everything in it. And we must, too, seek to create balance in our lives.”
I check my watch. Another two hours and I’m so out of here. Back to the real world, where meat and cheese are served on a regular basis, the men don’t wear sarong togas, and every single thought you have isn’t meant to be analyzed, cherished, and set free.
“Fortunately,” Rajiv continues with great passion, “there are forces in the universe that help us achieve that balance.”
I stick the tip of my index finger in my mouth and concentrate on using my teeth to smooth out an annoyingly jagged and unpolished fingernail.
“Forces whose sole purpose is to maintain a constant equilibrium among time and space as a whole.” Rajiv gestures wildly, as if moving the air around his body will help him prove some kind of point.
God, this nail is stubborn,
I think, gnawing down on it with determination.
“These forces have been given names throughout time. Of course, one of the most well-known and widely used names for this balancing act is
Karma
.”
My finger drops from my mouth, and I stare at him with instant
intrigue. There it is again. That stupid Karma thing that Jade mentioned the other day. What is it with everyone and that word?
“But what some people like to call Karma is really just that powerful energy that brings harmony to the universe. It is the sum of all an individual has done, is currently doing, and will do. So that, in the end, universal imbalances will be balanced.”
Hmmm,
I think as I listen to him speak. The sum of everything that an individual has done and will do. Like a bank account. The net balance of your deposits and withdrawals. Anyone who makes a withdrawal from the account eventually has to also make a deposit. That seems to make sense. Although it would also mean that Mason and Heather are in serious Karma overdraft.
Rajiv continues. “The effects of all deeds actively create past, present, and future experiences, thus making one responsible for one’s own life, and the pain and joy it brings to others.”
Wait a minute. I stop listening for a second as I attempt to digest what he has just said.
Making one responsible for one’s own life, and the pain and joy it brings to others.
Exactly! Mason
should
be held responsible for what he did to me. It’s only fair. His universal imbalance
should
be balanced out! Exactly like this guy is saying.
Up until now, I always thought Karma was just a convenient device to make us feel better about what’s happening in the world. You know, like what Jade said about Mason getting what’s coming to him. Bad deeds will be punished. But maybe it goes deeper than that. Maybe the universe works like some type of giant balancing scale. Whatever you put on one side of the scale has to be evened out by placing something of the exact same weight on the
other side. Otherwise, everything would be out of whack and we would all just float out into space or something.
Is that what this guy is trying to tell us when he speaks of balance? That someday Mason really will get what’s coming to him? That he too will be balanced out and maybe, just maybe, humiliated and destroyed as I had been? In front of everyone? Yes, that would definitely make me feel a good hundred times better.
Suddenly, this Rajiv guy is more interesting than his outfit would suggest.
“And while Karma and the universe are busy fulfilling their responsibilities of keeping all life in balance, you too must take responsibility for instilling balance in your
own
life.”
He then goes on to cite examples of how we can go about doing this. Something about taking the time to spend quality moments with loved ones, donating to people who are less fortunate, and some other ideas that I don’t quite catch because I’m far too busy thinking about what this means in the context of what has happened in the past week.
When the workshop is over, my mom and I approach Rajiv to personally thank him for such an inspiring lecture, and I take the time to flash him a genuine smile and say, “Yes, very inspiring indeed.”
He presses the palms of his hands together as if he’s going to start praying, but instead he simply bends at the waist and dips into a shallow bow, and it’s then that I notice the symbol hanging from a black cord around his neck.
It’s one that I’ve seen before. Mostly hanging from the rearview mirrors of surfers’ cars or gracing bumper stickers on the backs of hippie station wagons, but I never quite understood what it meant. I always assumed it was some kind of alternative peace sign.
When Rajiv rises from his prayer bow, he must notice me staring at the symbol because he touches it delicately with his fingertips and says, “It is a Yin-Yang.”
I try to play off my naïveté. “Yeah, I know.”
I didn’t know.
“And it stands for balance,” he explains patiently as he clasps his fingers together and rests them in front of him. “You see. Everything has its perfect opposite. Just like the Yin-Yang. We must find the opposite of our pain, and there we will discover our source of purest joy.”
I nod vigorously. “I couldn’t agree more.”
My mom throws me a sideways glance that I can swear is a combination of “Who are you?” and “What did you do with my heartbroken and hopeless daughter?”
I ignore the look and attempt to replicate Rajiv’s half bow as I say thank you and goodbye. My mom gives me another strange look but clearly decides not to press the issue.
For the first fifteen minutes of the drive back to Pine Valley, we ride in silence. I am 100 percent consumed with my thoughts, and I’m sure my mother is 100 percent consumed with trying to read them.
Finally, she breaks the silence and says, “It was an interesting lecture, wasn’t it?”
“Mmm-hmm,” I mumble, trying not to give her too much satisfaction in my sudden change of heart. I mean, yes, that last guy sparked some very serious thoughts to consider, but it doesn’t mean I have to surrender completely to the idea that this weekend’s kidnapping/spiritual enlightenment retreat might have turned out to be a good idea after all.
“I think that thing he said at the end about finding the joy in
your pain is very similar to what I always say: When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Finding the yin to your yang is the same as finding the sugar and water for your lemonade. It’s just a matter of turning something that once seemed negative into something positive.”
I turn and look out the window, pretending to give her only half of my attention. “Yeah,” I say offhandedly. “I suppose you’re right.”
Admitting to your parents that they’re right is a slippery slope to tread and, in my opinion, not the most advisable course of action. But at that moment, I’m hardly concerned about overinflating my mother’s ego. Because there’s something much bigger swirling around in my head. Something that has the potential to be
huge
. An idea that changes my outlook on everything and suddenly, like magic, makes this whole weekend actually feel worthwhile.
The sugar and water that will finally make my lemonade drinkable.
I texted Jade
and Angie in the car on the way home from the retreat and told them it was essential that they meet me here, in the food court of the Pine Valley mall, the minute Jade’s shift was over. Jade works part-time at Eve’s Closet, a popular lingerie store in the mall, and gets great discounts on push-up bras and thongs. But despite my friends’ insistent texts back requesting more information, I have yet to tell them about my latest world-changing stroke of brilliance.
“Now that we’re assembled, I have something very important to talk to you about,” I say purposefully as I slide into a seat at our table with a smoothie in hand.
Angie slurps loudly on a milk shake. “Jesus Christ, Maddy. We’re not Congress. Just spill it out already.”
Jade reaches over and pats Angie’s arm. It’s her subtle, mediator-style way of telling her to calm down and let me have my fifteen minutes without officially taking sides. Jade has an excellent knack for balancing out the energy between us when things get tense.
And what I am about to say is also very much about a balancing act.
“Well, I’ve been thinking . . .” I allow my words to linger in the air for effect. “About the concept of Karma.” I pronounce the magic word like I’m presenting it for the first time to the Webster’s dictionary committee to be considered for inclusion in their latest edition. “Now, I know Jade has mentioned the concept before, but this little retreat my mother just dragged me to provided me with an entirely new outlook on the word.”
I stop and look at my two best friends. Their eyes are focused on me. Even Angie’s. As much as she might play the annoyed card with me, I have known Angie for years and I can tell she is absolutely
dying
to know what I’m about to say. Otherwise, she never would have shown up in the first place.
“Now,” I continue, “last week, Jade assured me that Mason will get what he deserves. That Karma will catch up to him. And I just wanted you both to know”—I take a long, deliberate pause and then a deep breath—“that I’ve decided to agree with that statement. Mason
will
get what he deserves. Justice
will
be served, and he
will
feel the effects of his actions.”
“Good!” Jade exclaims, smiling at me with a look of motherly pride on her face. As if I have just announced an accomplishment as difficult as climbing Mount Everest. “I’m glad you’re finally starting to see the big picture.”
I smile back.
“But”
—I pause dramatically and take a sip from my smoothie, allowing the cold, semifrozen liquid to ooze down my throat before finishing the sentence—“I think it’s going to happen a lot sooner than you might think.”
I notice a devilish grin creep across Angie’s face. “Why? What
did you hear? Is Heather Campbell going to humiliate him in front of the whole school?”
I shake my head. “No,” I say calmly. “But
we
are.”
Angie and Jade exchange uncertain glances, each convinced that she misunderstood what I said and hoping to get some kind of clarification from the other.
“Huh?” Jade asks, her face a jumbled-up pile of puzzle pieces. “What do you mean,
we
are?”
I take another sip from my cup. “Well, according to the Karma
expert
that led our lecture yesterday, the main principle behind the concept is balance. The universe balances itself out. Good things happen to good people, and bad things happen to bad people. So the world isn’t just one big lopsided place.”
“Right . . . ,” Jade agrees cautiously. “But what does this have to do with
us
?”
“I’m getting to that,” I promise. “Basically, I think it’s time to create a
new
Karmic tradition. One that’s just our own. But that still follows the basic principles.”