Sisterhood of The Traveling Yoga Mat

My yoga teacher donated her mat to me, and I think it has magic powers.

Yoga saved my life when I started practicing in late 2012. I was nearing the end of an abusive relationship when I joined a “40 Days to Personal Revolution” program at my local studio, inspired by the book by Baron Baptiste. You could say the experience sparked a spiritual awakening, giving me the final push I needed to leave. In addition to leaving my relationship, I lost 15 pounds, started meditating, and adopted a detached and peaceful attitude. I’d never been happier or more zen in my life.

Of course, I was also twenty-two, living at home with virtually no bills to pay, and working an easy job. It wasn’t long after the program that life reeled me back in, and I slowly separated from my practice.

I jumped back on the wagon last spring after a decade of inconsistent practice and haven’t fallen off since. But despite my consistency, I’ve felt myself getting weaker rather than stronger, finding any excuse to skip classes. When I explained to my teacher that my wrists and hands feel especially tender during my practice, she suggested I try a thicker mat. “I’ll give you one of my warrior mats since you love pink. I practiced on it while I was going through chemo for breast cancer.”

Something I’ve come to learn about myself is that I am not good at receiving—gifts, love, attention, accolades. You name it. Unless I am reciprocating in some way, I am awful at receiving. Accepting something without feeling the need to “earn” it has always felt foreign to me. I was immediately filled with dread at the thought of accepting such a generous gift. I went home hoping she would forget about the pink mat or realize she’d already donated it.

But I walked into my next class to find a neon pink (come to mama) Alo Yoga mat waiting for me. Immediately, I started thinking up excuses for why it wasn’t a good fit, mentally rehearsing my “This was so thoughtful; thanks for thinking of me” speech. There was no way I could take this yoga mat home. I didn’t deserve it.

I took my first downdog, bracing myself for the usual pain and focusing on my hasta bandha to avoid dumping into my wrists. But the pain didn’t come—instead, a wave of ease washed over me. “The extra padding is working,” I thought. Yet as the practice flowed, I realized that the mat might have magic powers. I felt stronger and more expansive with each posture, able to fully express poses I’d usually have to modify. I didn’t even wobble in my tree pose—I could’ve stayed in it all day. It was the strongest practice I’d had in years.

With every breath on that mat, I could almost feel her fight flowing into me. I envisioned my teacher, fighting for her life on this mat. I could only begin to imagine the tears, grit, patience, grace, and strength this mat has seen. She transferred her warrior energy into it. It’s not just extra padding.

I thanked her through tears and cried the whole way home. I decided to keep the mat. Not forever, but for long enough to honor the gift. Because one day, when I come across someone who needs a bit of warrior energy, I’ll pass it on, with all the love and resilience it holds.