“I suck at meditating,” Milo blurted one evening. He wanted to meditate so badly, the failure was giving him stomach cramps. The Master raised a quieting hand. “Meditating is mostly breathing,” he said. “Breathing is our most intimate contact with the world outside ourselves. We bring it in”—the Master inhaled—“and we push it out”—and exhaled. “When we do that, the world outside becomes part of us.” They breathed together, the three of them. In, out. In, out.
