After injuring his back, he took on entry-level vinyasa classes in the confines of his work gym few were there to bear witness, and his gear was never a concern.īut when Dan’s girlfriend implored him to take up a class in the outside world, he found himself commuting across San Francisco with a hot pink Lululemon mat strapped to the back of his motorcycle. Not everyone will love me, in fact many won't, but I'm here, I showed up with my heart on my sleeve and a smile on my face.For years, Dan Abramson was a closet yoga practitioner. I don't know where I have been until now, but I am back, keeping my Ego at arms-length (doing my best anyway), back with my body and my soul intact, with 2 feet flat on the ground, love in my heart, open arms and a shining light. I am keeping the gift of self-worth in my pocket, like a treasured stone from the beach, my fingers caressing it, letting it absorb into my blood and my bones. So now, I am stepping back into My Life, carrying my mat across my back like a quiver of arrows, feeling the warrior that I am. And this has given me a wonderful sense of being together at last. It has shown me my friends and companions on this journey through life. I don't need a new life, or a new self, I need this one, with me at my best, which is my most honest and most true and with the wheel of doubt turned off (or at least slowing down) ready to be part of the connectedness that is waiting for me.Īll my Yoga Mat has ever asked of me is to draw shapes with my body, breathe consciously and let the thoughts in my head turn into feelings in my body and in return my yoga mat has helped me see that when I feel alone, I am worthy of asking for help. I know that I have all I need in me and that I belong right here. I know now, that I can be minded by my mat, by my own arms, by my own strength and that I am self-contained. And all that time, my own arms were here, dangling without purpose yet so desperately useful. To show me that all these years that I have wanted to be minded, to be held in strong arms, I was looking out. And like a dear old friend My yoga mat came to show me the sun, moon and stars and my place among them. To bring stillness to this wheel of doubt and a peace and quietness that has so rarely found me.

I felt alone, I felt separate.Īnd then my yoga mat, as my reverse Ego, like the opposing force, was waiting until the time was right, to roll itself out under my feet, to support me when I needed it the most. Hiding my true self from me and hiding me from the world. Those seeds grew slowly into a tall tree, casting a shadow over me and over my spirit. My happiness was curtailed because the thoughts and words that sprung to mind, those thoughts that came from the true me, when they sprung to mind they were smothered by the seeds of doubt thrown by my Ego. I didn't feel worthy of acceptance, never mind worthy of love. And with these slices seemingly gone or deeply forgotten, I was afraid, afraid to be myself, because I didn't feel whole. My Ego was like a thief in the night, stealing into my heart to Take that confidence, that soul, that I was so rightfully born with. My Ego was a con artist, disguised as a friend, tricking me into handing over slices of my self-confidence, of my soul, as if like a sacrifice to the Gods. My spirit that bit by bit had been weakened by the wheel of doubt that has been encircling my mind for God knows how long now, like a predator waiting, not wanting to miss one opportune moment to pounce, constantly on the watch, ready to torture me.

Now that smell signifies strength, my strength, not of my muscles but of my spirit. When I was first given it the smell made me grimace every time I lowered myself to the floor, until eventually I understood the gift of my yoga mat. My yoga mat is made of rubber, it smells of rubber, a smell I never liked.

Yoga mat quiver of arrows