Monday, June 25, 2012

Monday, June 18, 2012

Yoga Mat

A few weeks ago I lost my yoga mat.  I had loaned it to someone to try out to see if they liked a Manduka mat.  When I came in to take class it was not in my cubby.  At first I just said to myself - don't be attached to this.  If it isn't there for whatever reason, it is just a mat you can get another one.

But then I started thinking about what my mat has meant to me.  My mat, Baron Baptiste, and my husband have been the constants in my life since 2004.  This mat was a gift from the people who worked for me before I began my first teacher training.  This mat has been to the Catskills, a couple of times to Park City, Utah, Miami, Austin, Tx, Montana, Charlotte.  Sweat, tears, and yes, blood have been on this mat.  Blood when I fell in half moon into a speaker system and cut my leg in Austin, Tx.  Christy was next to me and laughed the whole time because I did the whole falling thing slow motion.  But there was blood which I was sort of proud of.  Zack from Seattle, his sweat has been on my mat and probably many other people have left their sweat droplets on my mat.  Memories, aha moments, and tears.  Lots of dog hair on my mat.  With 6 dogs it is inevitable.   Over the last few years the track marks of either jumping/ forward and back are starting to show.  My practice changing and growing on this mat as well as my life.

I think this was truly the first time that I had this panicked moment of what if my mat is gone.   My mat is part of my support system.  My closest friends, my family, my husband, and my mat.  My mat has always been there when I needed to sort through something, let go of something, and even invite something into my life.  I don't use my mat at all when I teach except for an intro class when I may have to demo.  So my mat truly represents my practice to me. My practice.  My time.  My refuge.  My home.   I did find my mat a few days later.  I had started using another mat and I still felt just at home on it.   It was nice to look back at all the memories of my practice.   And also look forward to what is yet to come. 


Thursday, June 14, 2012


There is a secret place.  A radiant sanctuary.  As real as your own kitchen.  More real than that.  Constructed of the purest elements.  Overflowing with the ten thousand beautiful things.  Worlds within worlds.  Forests, rivers.  Velvet coverlets thrown over featherbeds, fountains, bubbling beneath a canopy of stars.  Bountiful forests, universal libraries.  A wine cellar offering an intoxication so sweet you will never be sober again.  A clarity so complete you will never again forget.

This magnificent refuge is inside you.  Enter.  Shatter the darkness that shrouds the doorway.  Step around the poisonous vipers that slither at your feet, attempting to throw you off your course.  Be bold.  Be humble.  Put away the incense and forget the incantations they taught you.  Ask no permission form the authorities.  Slip away.  Close your eyes and follow your breath to the still place that leads to the invisible path that leads you home.

~ Mirabai Starr
from the Introduction to
The Interior Castle
by St. Teresa of Avila