341That night I slept fitfully, dreaming of threats and betrayals, torture and violence. When I woke up, it was clear why: on the one hand, I actually had to deal with these issues if I wanted to live to see Monday. But why did my mind keep getting dragged down by negative thoughts? Probably because mindfulness also requires a degree of discipline. My last mindfulness lesson with Breitner had been exactly a week ago. Yesterday had been the first Thursday night I’d spent without any guided exercises in months.

Luckily, Breitner had pointed me to some exercises in his book I could do on my own. I reached for the handbook and read up on one such exercise:

There is one feeling that can be generated very quickly and that overshadows all negative thoughts. This feeling is gratitude. When you are troubled by your burdens, just think of three things you are grateful for. It might be a ray of sunshine outside your window, your last pay rise or just a good conversation. Try to really feel this gratitude. You will find that you cannot be grateful and frustrated at the same time.

So I sat up straight in bed, closed my eyes and tried to think of three things I was grateful for.342

I was grateful for my daughter, my health, the full refrigerator, the espresso I was about to have, my professional freedom, Breitner’s book, the support from my officers, Emily’s preschool spot, the unbroken bond between me and Katharina, my future as a lawyer at my own beautiful law firm, the fact that I’d already fulfilled Katharina’s ultimatum and practically Boris’s as well …

Wow. Off the cuff, that was considerably more than three. In my first mindfulness class, I hadn’t been able to limit myself to five stressful things. And now, a week after my last session, positivity was positively bubbling out of me.

I tried to feel gratitude for every single item on my list. It worked: I could almost feel it physically. From my solar plexus, gratitude flowed through me, its warmth melting away the chilling worries I’d felt just moments before. I wanted to spend the entire day feeling this warmth. I wanted to share my gratitude – and I decided to share it with Katharina and Emily.

For dramatic reasons, I probably should’ve waited to inform Katharina that I had met her demands until the last day of April when her ultimatum expired. But even before my mindfulness journey, I’d never had much truck with drama. I felt that depriving someone of good news just so they would be happier about it later was utterly pointless.

For example, imagine your chain-smoking granddad is turning eighty-five in three days. As he’d been coughing up blood for a week, you took him to the oncologist a few days earlier. Today, the results come in: he only has pneumonia. That’s no joke, but also not a death sentence. Of course, you 343could wait another three days, festively wrap up his cancer-free diagnosis and hand it to him just in time for his birthday – but all you’d actually be gifting him is three horrible days of fear. If you feel like that’s worth the dramatic effect, go ahead.

Drama is the opposite of mindfulness.

Because I had just learned that gratitude was good for me, I wanted to share that gratitude with Katharina and inform her that Emily had a preschool spot.

When I called, Katharina suggested meeting at a café in our neighbourhood.

The café was listed as ‘child-friendly’. This meant that in every other chair, mums of all ages and descriptions were flapping open their nursing bras while glugging down lactose- and caffeine-free lattes themselves. Buggies in all price ranges happily blocked the bike path outside the café. The women’s bathroom had a spacious changing area – at the expense of the men’s restroom, which consisted of a single toilet and not even the tiniest changing table. As the mums moaned about their financial constraints, the café’s 3.90-euro croissants liberally left crumbs all over their children’s designer clothes.

In short, the exact same clientele as Little Fish.

Emily loved it, especially because you were allowed draw on the walls with chalk and then wipe your fingers on the upholstery. Nevertheless, everything looked very neat. One reason for the café’s high prices was probably that they needed to save up for frequent paint jobs.

‘Since when do you go to cafés like this?’ I asked Katharina after we’d found a table from which we could watch Emily draw.344

‘Since my husband moved out.’

‘What does that have to do with it? This doesn’t seem like your scene at all.’

‘From time to time, I need to feel like there are people I wouldn’t want to trade places with, even if their lives never involve underworld bosses or upmarket brothels. At least I don’t care whether I can get soy-milk stains out of a Jack Wolfskin jacket at 30 degrees: compared to the champagne problems these yummy mummies tend to whinge on about, our relationship issues are remarkably tangible.’

Other people go to cafés because they like the people there; Katharina went to cafés because she hated the people there. She’s just that type of person.

‘I have two letters for you,’ I said, changing the topic.

I first handed Katharina a letter from Little Fish signed by all three of its founders.

Dear Mrs Diemel,

We would hereby like to formally apologise to you. Last week, we sent you a rejection regarding your daughter’s preschool application. That was wrong of us. Your daughter is the most wonderful child in the world. You are the most wonderful woman in the world, and your husband, who is the most wonderful man in the world, also has the most wonderful profession in the world. We apologise for not realising this much sooner. In order to pave the way for a new start, we hereby inform you that on the first of the month we are voluntarily handing over 345the management of the Little Fish co-operative preschool. The new managing director will reach out to offer your daughter Emily a spot.

Kind regards, to Emily as well,

Katharina looked at me incredulously.

‘Is that blood?’

‘Where?’

‘There, between “most wonderful man” and “most wonderful profession”.’

I took a closer look. Since all three chaps had been crying and stuffing tissues up their freshly broken noses before they signed, I certainly couldn’t rule out any spillage.

‘No idea, but if you want I can ask them to print out a fresh version.’

‘No need, I like the letter just fine as is. Do I want to know how you got them to write it?’

‘Through mindfulness.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘I considered their needs and forgave them. Afterwards, they were also willing to acknowledge their mistakes and retract their rejection.’

‘And for Emily this means what?’

I gave Katharina the second letter.

Dear Mrs and Mr Diemel,

I am pleased to inform you that there will be a place available for your daughter Emily at our facility as of 1 August. Emily will undoubtedly prove a great addition to 346the Little Fish community. Please contact us at your earliest convenience to make arrangements to sign the contract.

Kind regards,

Sasha Ivanov

Katharina looked incredulous again.

‘Wait, Sasha Ivanov … Isn’t that Dragan’s driver?’

My stomach started to feel queasy. I took a deep breath. ‘Right.’

‘And now he runs the preschool?’

‘Dragan owed me.’

Katharina stared back and forth at the two letters, and I was scared she was about to slap me about the ears with them. But then, unexpectedly, her eyes grew damp and she embraced me.

‘You’ve done much worse. Thank you.’

Mindfulness can kill people and break noses, but it can melt icebergs too.