Issue #230: That One Time I Fled a Meditation Retreat

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📚 No One You Know by Emma Tourtelot: Kate and her husband Ethan have an idyllic-seeming life in the Hudson Valley, raising their teenage daughter Indie, but when Indie’s best friend dies, both mother and daughter struggle to find their footing. What emerges is a beautiful narrative, alternating between each perspective, that examines how we make sense of unbelievable pain, and the ways in which our relationships struggle beneath its weight.

💫 Heating Pads: It’s been particularly cold and windy in Portland over the past few days, and I can barely keep the house warm enough (I run cold!). One thing I’ve been doing is relying on an arsenal of heating pads. I warm this bead-filled “snuggler” in the microwave before reading on the couch after dinner, sometimes with fleece soaked in castor oil over my abdomen to aid with digestion (I haven’t noticed a difference, but I find it incredibly relaxing). Before I get into bed, I place an electric heating pad beneath the covers, to warm the sheet before getting in. A lot cheaper than an Eight Sleep, and incredibly cozy.

🎥 ‘People We Meet on Vacation’ on Netflix: Okay, I loved this movie and not only because it’s my favorite rom-com plot—two hot people with obvious chemistry absolutely cannot be together, for the friendship. In this iteration, Poppy and Alex become friends during a roadtrip plucked straight out of ‘When Harry Met Sally,’ and later vow to travel to a new place each year, platonically. Clichés abound, but it’s a worthwhile escape, and I loved Poppy, who speaks to my chaotic soul.

A quick note… After a comment in this week’s Sunday Edition (thank you, Carolina!), I’m experimenting with making these recommendations less current and much more aligned with the things I’m naturally engaging in. It feels a lot more genuine than me cramming in a watch of, say, “Knight of the Seven Kingdoms” to determine if it’s good. Of course, feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments!! x

The alarm from my phone blasted me awake a little after six in the morning—a time I was absolutely certain the other retreat attendees would already be perched on their pillows in the meditation hall for our morning session. I laid still, ears perked for any sign of movement outside the van, before pulling back a corner of the shades to confirm. I half-expected someone to be standing there, ready to reprimand me for being a bad yogi, but of course the coast was clear. I was what they referred to as “a bolter” in our orientation, someone who leaves the retreat in the middle of the night. I climbed into the drivers’ seat, feeling awkward as my headlights disrupted the dark, until I peeled out of the gates.

I had barely made it a full day into my three-day silent meditation retreat the first time I broke “noble silence.” I was trying to stand up at the end of a two-hour guided meditation when I found that… I couldn’t. A muscle in my back spasmed me back down to the floor, as a whispered expletive escaped my lips, just loud enough for my neighbor to turn his head toward me. I held my hands together in apology, before rolling off of my pillow onto all fours and carefully pushing myself to standing. My spine, which had felt uncomfortably tight before the long sit, now felt like a magnet, pulling in and twisting the muscles that ran parallel to it.