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 Water Flowing Uphill
 A Novel 
 by 
Mary Follin
Copyright © by Mary Follin, 2009. All rights reserved.waterflowinguphill@gmail.com
 
Water Flowing Uphill
2
Chapter One
Beryl saw her arms in the mirror and thought they lookeddoughy. Her spandex tank top was clearly a mistake. The flierhad said to wear loose, comfortable clothing, but big clothes onlymade her look bigger, so she had opted for the outfit she wore inher last jazzercise class, which ended seven years ago. Since then,her physical activity consisted of throwing her weight onto thestubborn shift stick in the family van and rocking from onenumbed thigh to the other at soccer games and dance lessons.She was one of twelve women, lined up like spoonful-sized dollops on a cookie sheet, waiting for Vee to tell them whatto do next. The flier had also advertised this as a beginner class, but from the way everyone else seemed to know each other, sheknew this was not their first time around.
Oh well, I’m here to getcentered. Not make friends
. But having squeezed her size fourteen bottom into small black leggings was making it difficult to clearher mind of all thoughts of
self,
as Vee was now instructing themto do.
Why don’t you try yoga or something?
Luke had asked herwhen she told him Dr. Bailey had suggested she take a low dose ofPaxil. Apparently, Luke was resistant to having a wife on anti-depressants. He thought she should just eat better and stopgetting so hung up on what other people said. When she askedhim one sleepless night at two in the morning why he didn’t careif the other dads at back-to-school night didn’t say “hi” to him in
 
Water Flowing Uphill
3
the halls, he pulled the chain on the bedside lamp, proppedhimself up on his pillow and told her she had lost her mind
.
Despite that prognosis, he still didn’t think she should takeanything for it.
 Minds just come back when you get centered,
Berylsighed to herself as she obediently lowered onto her yoga mat.Down here the room smelled like feet. They were all sitting cross-legged on their multi-colored rectangles; she noticed withsatisfaction that some of those loosely outfitted knees were so stiffthey pointed almost straight up.“Take your right thumb and close your right nostril, and breathe in like this,” said Vee in her soft, melodious voice. Hersilky black hair tied loosely in a bun and the small
bindi
betweenher deeply set eyes seemed to create a feeling of another place, onethat Beryl had never seen. (Beryl had been a little disappointedwhen she spied Vee take her place at the front of the room. Vee’sround torso, clearly outlined by an oversized white cotton tunic,hinted to Beryl that practicing yoga would not help her lose theweight she had hoped.) Beryl put her right thumb to her nostril.She heard the rest of the class breathe in deeply through onenostril, and could only think of herself telling Megan to blow.
Don’t sniff it up.
“Now. Close your left nostril with your pinkie finger and breathe out. We will repeat this many times, as this is how weconnect the left and right sides of our brains.” Out went thecollective breath of the class. Beryl felt desperate for a tissue. Still,she recognized the need for her right and left brains tosynchronize better. The side that did all the talking seemed a bittoo dominant.As Beryl continued the breathing exercise, she wondered ifenlightened people felt dizzy like this. The twice-around- beginners seemed to have no problem with the right, left, right,left rhythm of the alternating finger to nostril. Beryl wassupposed to be clearing her mind, but she knew she would have
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