Nick Mantelli
In late 2011, my ex who was training for the first of what would be several Ironman triathlons, asked me casually if I wanted to go to yoga with him the following morning. Being 22 or 23 and willing to try anything once, I nonchalantly obliged. I entered the 95 degree room at 6 in the morning for the first time, a violently angry and chronically unsettled individual… completely unaware of what I was really getting myself into. I struggled through the entire class; moving from frustration to sorrow and ultimately to defeat. I entered the final resting pose (Savanna) in a puddle of my own sweat and tears, still unable to completely close my eyes. Something in me broke open here though. I had been given a glimpse of my heart, and the wall that I had built around it. I had finally found a tangible way to access a part of myself, that until this point, I had only seen fleeting glimpses of under the influence of drugs and alcohol. I was hooked.
I continued showing up even though I had no idea what I was doing and spent most of my early classes cursing the teachings, my fellow classmates and the day I was born. I look back at it and think of how obvious it must have been that I was struggling and now realize just how patient and gentle my early teachers really were with me. Even though on some mornings I’m sure my energy was black cloud, they could tell how much I needed to be there and how much it was helping me. And one more over… they were still kind to me. Though I have since gone on to practice many different types of yoga (Baptiste, Bikram, Kripalu, etc) in cities all over the Northeast and NYC, I still regularly return to this little studio in Barrington, Rhode Island. Today I celebrate almost 11 years of continuous sobriety. I have since gone on to get my 200-Hour certification at Kripalu. I recently began teaching at a local YMCA once a week just to give back what was so generously given to me. Eventually I moved to a local hot studio, where I continued to practice teaching. I work every class to trust that each student will have the experience that the practice has intended for them. I hold space to allow students to tap into a stillness and a calm that is so needed by me and needed by everyone more than ever these days.