"Are we done yet?", I asked, for the twentieth time that afternoon, peeking out at a peaceful looking Darren from a single eye. He remained stoically silent. I shut my eye again. "Guess not."

When Darren had said we'd be mediating, I didn't immediately think that would entail sitting cross-legged on grass, closing our eyes, and trying to "empty our minds", whatever that meant. I sat through the first five minutes of it, before getting squirmy. Darren seemed completely at peace, breathing in ...