twenty-three
I was pleased with my progress and sensed I was on the right track. Yet that did not stop me from feeling painfully on edge at times. I was in a strange euphoric state that disrupted my sleep and undermined my calm. In other words, I was stressed out. I wasn’t going to become a Zen master anytime soon. The changes in my life—so many and so rapid—had set my mind reeling. My nerves were overloaded, and it wouldn’t be long before I blew a fuse. I desperately needed to relieve the pressure: I couldn’t carry on like this, and so I spoke to Claude about it. He saw this as an excellent opportunity to make me conscious of the benefits of meditation and heart-rate control. Concepts that were utterly alien to an Energizer bunny like me.
“There’s nothing I like less than sitting still. It makes me feel useless, as if I’m wasting time. I really think that meditation is a no-no for me.”
“That’s what you say now, Camille, but it’s like all the rest: you’ll get there. Only a few weeks ago, the idea of doing ten minutes’ exercise a day seemed impossible to you. So did eating in a different way.”
“Yes, but this isn’t the same: it’s not in my nature to be Zen.”
“No one is asking you to change your nature. Just to alter a few details in your daily life to achieve greater well-being and calm.”
“I don’t deny it must be great for those who can do it, but I just can’t stay still. I’ve always been that way.”
“Always, never! What if you forgot about those absolutes? Don’t you even want to try?”
I agreed, slightly ashamed of protesting so much.
“Don’t worry, Camille. You can do it. It’s simply a question of adapting. Afterward you won’t be able to do without it. Did you know that according to some very serious studies, monks and other experts have better health and a stronger immune system? It’s worth giving it a shot, isn’t it?”
“Definitely, but at the moment it just seems very hard to organize.”
“Just one question: Do you enjoy being so stressed, so tense all the time?”
“No, of course not.”
“But it must do something for you if you’re so determined to hang on to a way of life that leaves no room at all for calm and introspection.”
I could see he was going to leave me without a leg to stand on.
“OK, fine,” I said, giving in. “I promise to try.”
“I’m sure you can do it,” he said with a broad smile. “You’ll see, there’s no great magic to it. All you have to do is train yourself to find a little calm and silence and to learn to look at what’s happening inside you. Make a start, two or three times a day, with a session of deep breathing: six breaths a minute for five minutes. That’s the rhythm that slows down your system. You can do it anywhere, even in the Métro.”
“I’ll believe you . . .”
“Another very interesting exercise is the one I call the ‘harmonizer’: it combines the principles of controlling your heart rate with positive visualization.”
“Isn’t that getting a bit complicated?”
“Not at all: the basic principle is the same. At some point in your day you need to create a bubble of tranquility by shutting yourself in a room where you won’t be disturbed. Sit down comfortably, with your back straight, and try to breathe calmly. Then place your hand on your heart and breathe, while at the same time visualizing your heart swelling up each time you inhale, and returning to normal size whenever you exhale. Once you are perfectly calm, add a positive visualization: a memory that ‘warms your heart.’ Then try to relive those emotions and sensations as intensely as possible. Simple, isn’t it?”
“What if no image comes to me?”
“I admit that at first it might seem rather difficult. But you should build up an ‘inner catalog of positive images and memories.’ A mental photo album . . . The more you work at it, the more complete it will become, and you’ll be able to access it easily.”
“Yes, that’s not a bad idea.”
“But I think that at this point, what would be most useful would be for you to meet a real master in the art.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Master Wu. I’ll take you to him. After your visit everything will be much clearer, you’ll see.”
We drove for three-quarters of an hour before we reached Master Wu’s home. I could hardly wait to meet him. While we sped past a landscape of open fields, I discreetly began to control my breathing and to try some positive visualization.
“Caught you, Camille!” Claude suddenly shouted.
“What?”
Again, that sly little smile of his.
“I’ve been watching you out of the corner of my eye for a few minutes now, and I can see you’ve started the training already.”
“So . . . ?”
“So nothing! That’s great. Carry on . . . don’t worry about me.”
We finally arrived at our destination. The tires crunched on the gravel of the drive up to the house. Several dogs came out to greet us, muzzles flecked with foam, barking gruffly. The owner of the house called them to heel, and the dogs obeyed her instantly. Doubtless she could have made them take a bite out of our ankles or lick our hands simply by raising her voice or clicking her tongue. I was impressed by her natural self-assurance. Claude had told her we were coming, and her smile was like a pair of open arms.
“Good afternoon, Claude. How are you?”
“Very well, Jacqueline. How about you? It’s really good of you to see us. May I introduce Camille? I’ve talked to you about her.”
Jacqueline was a matronly woman, generously built, with a baby face that made her look cheerful. Frankly, this was not what I had been expecting. I was imagining someone more . . . Asian.
“I’m so pleased to meet you, Camille. So you’d like to meet Master Wu?” she asked, a glint in her eye.
“Er, yes, I would.”
“I understand! Lots of people would like to get to know him. Follow me.”
We went through a spacious living room with an ancient hearth and exposed beams. The gentle winter sun filtered in through wide bay windows.
“What a lovely room.”
“Thank you,” said our hostess, apparently delighted at my compliment. “Now, Master Wu is in the courtyard. I’ll let you go and find him. I’ll be in the kitchen. See you soon . . .”
Claude allowed me to go out first. I was already smiling a warm welcome as my eyes scanned the courtyard. My smile gradually faded: I couldn’t see anyone. I was terribly disappointed. Had Master Wu already left?
Seeing how crestfallen I was, Claude insisted, “He’s over there.”
I still couldn’t see anyone.
“There, Camille!” he said, pointing.
I followed the direction of his finger. Comfortably installed on an embroidered cushion, a magnificent Persian cat was stretched out, dozing peacefully. He transmitted a combination of majesty and utter peacefulness. I stopped short, in shock. Then, pulling myself together, I turned toward the practical joker. We drove for three-quarters of an hour for this?
“What on earth are you playing at?” I snapped.
Claude’s face showed a mixture of satisfaction and contrition.
“Forgive my little game, Camille. But I couldn’t think of a better example than Master Wu to show you what complete relaxation can be. If you think you won’t be able to meditate, start by learning to ‘be a cat’ for a few minutes each day. There’s no one like him for being peaceful and calm, completely anchored in the here and now.”
I shot him a furious look, which led him to seek refuge in the kitchen alongside Jacqueline.
Left on my own with Master Wu, I watched him simply being for a few moments and was surprised to feel a pleasant sensation of peace slowly invade me. As his tail moved to and fro, he seemed to be composing an invisible treatise on the virtues of slowness. His very own hymn to carpe diem. He didn’t even move when I plunged my hand into his warm fur to stroke him.
I realized then that I really shouldn’t be angry with Claude for having brought me here. Feeling much more relaxed, I rejoined him and Jacqueline in the kitchen. They were chatting away, enjoying a cup of fresh mint tea, “picked from the garden,” as my hostess pointed out. I could tell that Claude was searching my face to see how I was going to react. When he spotted my unspoken thanks he seemed happy.
The afternoon ended on a note of culinary delight: a plum tart that more than made up for the long journey.