I met Ginger in the garden. She was sitting in the middle of a bunch of flowers with her legs crossed. Her eyes were closed, and her hands were resting on her knees. Her breath was slow and steady. As I approached, I did my best to move silently. I didn’t want to disturb her meditation.
I stopped and looked around, unsure if I should let her know I was there.
“Sit, child,” she suddenly ordered. She kept her eyes closed.
I jumped at her voice, not expecting it. I looked around me and found a patch of ground that was not filled with flowers. I carefully sat down, not wanting to accidentally crush any flowers. I tried to mimic Ginger’s pose, placing my hands on my knees and sitting with a straight spine.
“Relax your shoulders, and your palms should be facing up.” Ginger didn’t open her ey
