Ode to space on my faithful mat
This blog space was contributed by my sister, Diane Newman, who not only is the yogi who introduced me to yoga, but is also a talented writer, quilter, archivist, and the best sister.
My dear Yoga Mat,
You’ve been my constant companion for more years than I dare count.
Alright, let’s see, an hour a day, not counting holidays, so 300 hours a year
times say 20 years, give or take, that makes 6,000 hours of togetherness.
I do declare: deep gouges on your surface are a dead giveaway of your age.
Aw, don’t complain it is my fault, digging my piggy nails into your soft exterior
to hold a posture in perfect form while you lay there always in a supporting role.
Me stretched out on your steady plane, breathing for both us, in and out,
Not a sound from you. Sometimes you make me feel you are heartless.
What’s a girl gotta do to get some sort of a reaction out of you. I am a great warrior.
Do you notice? I do salutations to the sun and the moon. I am a crow, a cow, a cat,
a rabbit, a dog showing off upward facing and downward facing. Not a peep from you.
I float like a beautiful lotus flower. I arch like a bow. I perch like an eagle. I dive like a swan.
I stand like a tree and spread my branches. I bend my back into a camel or a wheel.
I am a dancer, a rock star, the epitome of a moving mediation, I’ll have you know.
I take you with me everywhere I go. And you just lay there, my ever-present partner.
The light in me sees the light in you even if you don’t see the light in me.
Your one and only,