Thursday, June 7, 2007

The Color of My Prayer Rug

I don't technically have a prayer rug, at least not like those unrolled and pointed towards Mecca five times each day. But in replacing the yoga mat that my landlady will not let me put in the washer even though it truly needs it, I tried to consider the impact color and pattern would have on the quality of my morning practice.

This is overkill in some circles, I realize, but when you unfurl your mat in a yoga class, it seems to me you're claiming your colors.

Obviously, I could use the mats offered by the studio, but you need to consider that unless the studio washes the mat after me, the person who used it before me probably sweated as profusely as I will and then rolled it up tight and put it in a dark place. I'm really not being a snob about this.

Another option is the standard sticky mat that outlet stores dump by the dozen. My last mat was one of these. They come in beautiful colors and speak of someone who has taken the first step in a yoga practice. They're not environmentally correct, but for low-cost entry, I'm all for it: the first thing is the practice, adjust your carbon footprint elsewhere. But you do need a way to wash it.

I know a couple of designers have come out with high ticket mats. I'm not going there: handbags are my fetish and that's plenty. Rubber mats are nice, cushiony, but I'm not wild about the latex smell. There are Yogatoes towels, hemp towels, etc. - all of which I stepped over because what I really wanted was a Mysore rug.

The colorful, cotton, woven rugs are something I've seen in classes over the years used by people who have astonishing Ashtanga practices. The thing is, when someone goes and stays the 0ne-month minimum (three-months preferred) with Sri K. Pattabhi Jois in Mysore, India, chances are they will come home with a Mysore rug and it speaks to me of achievement and direction.

And while I have travelled to India, I did not go to Mysore, so I don't feel I've earned the rug. But I really wanted one because I love them, and because I think I can get one past the washing machine patrol downstairs. I'd also like to think that one day I will study in Mysore.

I went into NYC to buy my rug because not every yoga school carries them and because I really did not have time to wait for mail order - the stinky mat situation was dire. The color was the thing. And I walked between Jivamukti on Broadway and 14th Street, East West Book Store at Fifth and 14th, and Integral Yoga at 13th across 7th Avenue looking for exactly the right vibe.

The folks at Yogatoes have a chart marking the colors of the different chakras and the deep rose color I love so much is said to be very grounding. It actually felt kind of loud for a yoga mat and I wasn't sure I wanted to draw attention to a bright beautiful Mysore rug that I did not earn.

What I brought home instead felt humble and nurturing. It is a warm brown like the Connecticut soil and as soft as a puppy's ear. It has pretty sky-blue stripes on each end. This morning I rolled it out for the first time, and pointed it towards the waterfall. And I was really OK knowing that my mat will not speak of my achievement, but only my direction. As Sri K. Pattabhi Jois says "Practice, practice, practice and all is coming."

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