Page 29 - Cindy Salas Murphy San Diego Woman Magazine

F ANT ASTIC FLASH FIC TION

KISS - KEEP IT SIMPLE
AND SURRENDER

By Mamta Malhotra

Growing up in the land of yoga, India, I stayed as far SEMBLANCE OF SIGHT
away from it, as I could, because it was everywhere,
and not cool. Well, I was a hormonal teen! by Jess Petrencsik
Fast forward to 2020. I am an adult, yet again with Today I finished the painting of Seth and me.
raging hormones, in the middle of a pandemic, and
need to feel in control. Six months ago he told me to paint something I
loved. I thought about the ocean, the sensation of
Meet cue - enter yoga! powerful waves wrapping around my calves, the
sand both firm and soft between my toes. Or the
I started attending a yoga class conducted by a dear
friend’s husband, a trained yogi and teacher/philos- mountains where the silence brings me a peace I
opher/guru rolled into one, over zoom, and I knew cannot know in my usual urban dwelling. Or my
it was magical from the get go. dog, my lifeline, with his thick coat and loyalty, his
companionship and protection.
I expected strange, tough, impossible to do body
contortions. What I got was slow, gentle, do at your I started painting several years ago, though it
own pace movements and breath. My teacher’s sim- seemed improbable that I could ever become pro-
ple philosophy, “listen to your body” and “ask your ficient at it. I’m not great at landscapes or scenery,
wandering, restless mind to shut up”, resonated but I’ve developed a knack for the objects in my life.
with me. Something about representing the way they feel,
works. It’s like…I can do that.
It’s not an exaggeration if I say that yoga truly
changed me from the inside out. It’s made me fierce, They told me at the center that I needed a hobby.
strong, determined and at the same time, vulnera- That a hobby would really help me pull through.
ble, gentle and grateful. I now expect more from They suggested working out, throwing pottery, or
myself, and plan on delivering. becoming part of a book club, subscribing to Audible
or something. Maybe take up container gardening.
So, everyday I show up at the yoga mat, let my Anything to help occupy my time and therefore my
teacher Keep it simple, and I surrender! mind so I wouldn’t think about the incident that led
me there. If my mind stayed active, I could hang on
to my sanity.
They were surprised by my choice, as I figured they
CAFE MACCHIATOS would be, but when Seth agreed to take me on as a

TO FUEL THE DREAM: student, no one stopped him. Once a week we met,
and he taught me to match what I felt with colors or-
By Shelley Burbank ganized to the left and right of me, by either dark or
light. And I began to run my fingers over the things
Lauren stepped out of the coffee shop, and the pesky in his room, and paint them. The smooth ceramic
December breeze skipping off the river caught the vase sitting half in the sun, the warmth evident to
edges of her coat. In her bag, a big stack of manu- my touch. The vintage chair with the nail-studded
script submissions pulled at her arm socket. leather and curved wooden legs.

It would be a long week ahead. But she was okay. The day Seth let me touch his face, his scratchy jaw,
This new job was her chance to shine. his deep set eyes, the wiry hair, and once-broken
She sipped the hot drink, relishing the jolt of espres- nose, I knew. It was the gift he gave me that I loved,
so, and licked a bit of foam from her lip. She'd find and with it, I supposed, him.
that perfect manuscript, the one that would put
Sweet Bites Press on the literary map. All she need-
ed was a good pair of reading glasses, a bright light,
and a positive attitude.
She sipped her coffee again and grinned. A few more
cafe macchiatos also couldn't hurt.

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