Sangeetha Kamath

Today, I discovered the joy of *Xiao Shuì*, the art of taking a short nap. I've always been someone who struggles with sleep. March 22nd I've started incorporating *XIAO SHUÌ* into my daily routine. I take a short nap after lunch, and it helps me power through the afternoon. I've noticed that I'm more focused, more productive, and more patient. I've also started to appreciate the beauty of *Xiao Shuì*. It's not just about sleeping; it's about taking a break and listening to your body. It's about giving yourself permission to rest and recharge. March 29th Today, I had a busy day ahead of me, but I was feeling exhausted. I decided to take a *Xiao Shuì* nap, and it was exactly what I needed. I slept for 30 minutes, and when I woke up, I felt like a new person.  It's about self-care. It's about taking care of your physical, emotional, and mental health. It's about being kind to yourself and giving yourself what you need. April 3rd As I reflect on...

  I sit amidst and look around the gentle mess of an assortment of art, surrounded by half-finished paintings, worn brushes, and scraps of paper filled with scribbled thoughts for my journal, I find comfort in remembering Wabi Sabi.  This ancient Japanese philosophy has become my guiding light, illuminating the beauty in the incomplete. I recall the first time I stumbled upon Wabi Sabi. I was wandering through a local art gallery, and a particular piece caught my eye. It was a simple, rustic tea bowl with a jagged, irregular crack running down its side and a broken handle. To me, it seemed imperfect, flawed to the bone even. But as I stood there, taking in the subtle nuances of the piece, I began to see its beauty. The crack wasn't a mistake; it was a part of the bowl's history, of its well loved use and a faded look as well–a result of being passed down generations as a sentimental heirloom. That moment marked the beginning of my journey with Wabi Sabi. As I embrace Wabi Sabi...

  I stumbled upon the most unexpected treasure today while decluttering my wardrobe. Amidst the pile of clothes, handbags, organiser boxes and forgotten trinkets something caught my eye – a tiny organza pouch containing a faded macaroni necklace . My heart swelled as I gently lifted it out, the colorful pasta shells dangled from the worn string. Finding this necklace now, tucked away safely underneath a pile of clothes brought tears to my eyes ago. I felt verklempt , overwhelmed by the emotions that came flooding back. It's funny how something as simple as a macaroni necklace can evoke such strong emotions, but it's the thought, the effort, and the love behind it that made it truly special. As I gently lifted the necklace out of the box, the colorful pasta shapes dangling from the worn string, I felt a lump form in my throat. I remembered the day my daughter had made it--- like it was yesterday. Her tiny hands carefully threading each macaroni piece, her face beaming with exci...

  Watching the child 'Mun' in our neighborhood grow up alongside my own daughter, Babylou was a joy. They were classmates since Kindergarten, and ‘Adina' and I would always walk our tots home together, chatting all the way until we reached our apartment and got off on different floors. A couple of happy years passed and the children were in the same primary school again. ‘Adina’ and I would be seated together in the Parent’s Bay area while waiting for the dismissal time. Our thoughts and outlook blended like cream and mascarpone cheese in a Blondie. Happy-go-Lucky to the hilt, she was always with a sunny disposition, her bright smile the highlight of her personality. But life can be cruel in ways that we never dream. A few years into Primary school, ‘Adina' in a state of stupor confided in me that ‘Mun’ was diagnosed with cancer. To say I was jolted with this piece of news is an understatement. This 8 year old girl who pranced ahead of us playfully alongside Babylou whi...

                        Today, the rain poured down like a relentless curtain, shrouding the city in a misty gloom. As I stood by the window, watching the droplets slide down the pane, I felt a familiar sense of unease settle in. My tâm trạng, my emotional state was once again at the mercy of the rain. Even as a child I'd always despised the rain. The way it seeped into every pore, weighing me down with its insistent drumbeat. The way it made the world feel gray and lifeless, like a smudged watercolour. But today, as I stood there, something changed. Perhaps it was the memory of my grandmother, who used to tell me stories of the rainy seasons in our ancestral village. She'd speak of the smell of wet earth and the sound of raindrops on the tiled roof, her eyes sparkling with a deep affection. As I recalled those stories, I felt a pang of nostalgia, a longing for a time and place I'd never known. Or perhaps it was the realization...

  Akira, a revered Kachina, stood tall, donning her colorful headband and a tiara made of Eagle feathers. Her formidable mask accentuated her rise to spiritual power. She gazed at Mika, her young granddaughter and protégée, with warmth and expectation. Surrounded by vast, open lands, dotted with juniper trees and rocky outcroppings, Mika lived with her grandmother, Akira, in a small, cozy cabin on the outskirts of a Hopi settlement. The rustic cabin was made of natural materials, with a wooden frame and adobe walls. A porch wrapped around the front, shading it from the harsh desert sun. Inside, the cabin was warm and welcoming, filled with the scent of baking pika bread and a pot of stew simmering. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the air was crisp and clean. In the distance, Mika could see the outlines of ancient ruins, reminders of the rich history and culture of her people. Akira was a wise and kind grandmother, with a deep understanding of their heritage. Her silver hair was ...

April has limbered into May in hushed tones. Everything has changed so drastically, yet the new tangent has forked in a manner so seamless "Some goodbyes set you free"….These words are always playing on a loop, forefront on my mind as I reflect on the day I said goodbye to my father. I remember the feeling of emptiness that consumed me, the weight of his absence drowning me in a fog so heavy and dense that just refused to lift. But as time passed at a snails pace, I began to realize that his passing had also set him free. Free from his extreme pain and discomfort.  While manoeuvring the complexities of life without his guidance, at the same time I'm empowered by the lessons he imparted. Left on my own to make my own decisions without a sturdy stronghold to fall back on, to stumble and learn from my mistakes is the next chapter of my life lesson I have to learn to tackle. Forging my own path leaves me extremely vulnerable to 'what could have been' if things do fall...

                          BRUNCH & BREWS Today, I found myself wandering through the city again searching for a sense of connection to something, anything. The streets were alive with people, each face a story, each step a journey. I felt like a ghost drifting through, unseen and unnoticed. As I turned a corner, my footsteps as if having a mind of their own led me to my much loved Brunch & Brews Bistro tucked away like a secret. It was my Querencia, a place of comfort and solace. **** Located on the charming Clemenceau Boulevard 12, Brunch & Brews is nestled between a vintage bookstore and a florist, surrounded by floral trees in full bloom and quaint shops. Clemenceau Boulevard 12 is lined with tall trees and charming street lamp posts that cast a soft glow over the sidewalk after sundown.The surrounding buildings are a mix of old and new, with historic shop houses renovated to house modern businesses. These a...

  Waking up to the sound of gentle rain outside my window, I feel a sense of calm wash over me. It's my Pohoda , my own personal comfort zone, where the world slows down, and I'm at peace. I take long, deep breaths, savoring the quiet morning moments before the hustle and bustle of the day begins. As I sip my morning Pǔ'ěr tea, I let my mind wander to the memories of my Taiwanese vacation in the mountains, where I learned the art of brewing tea.  I recall the serene atmosphere of the tea house, nestled among the lush greenery, and the gentle guidance of the tea master. The tea master taught me the intricacies of Pào Chá, the art of brewing tea, and the importance of patience, attention to detail, and mindfulness. The tea leaves unfurled in the hot water, releasing the complex flavors and aromas of the Pǔ'ěr tea. The process was meditative, and I felt my worries and stress melting away with each passing moment. But Pǔ'ěr isn't the only tea that brings a pause. A ...

  Maya Grey Wolf ‘s dark hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of night, with hints of crimson highlights that seemed to dance in the firelight. Her eyes were pools of warm, earthy brown, filled with ancient wisdom and kindness. Her skin was a rich, golden brown, owing to the deep rooted origins of  her Native American heritage . She wore a flowing skirt made of vibrant, hand-woven fabric, adorned with intricate patterns that seemed to tell stories of their own. A delicate silver necklace bearing a small turquoise rested against a beaded necklace made of polished stones. Maya's fingers moved deftly as she wove a small basket from strands of sweetgrass , the scent of vanilla and honey filling the air. She sat on her porch, surrounded by the vibrant colors of her garden, where wildflowers bloomed in every direction. As she worked, her eyes drifted back to the video clip on her phone, replaying the segment on the book club " Nakhodka ," which had just been featured o...