< voices ►
First, There Is A Mountain
62
WWW.JUSTOUT.COM
JUNE 17.2011
I don’t recognize the number as it appears on
my telephone screen. It’s Saturday afternoon,
and I’m cleaning up my apartment, the windows
wide open, Donovan playing on my iTunes.
“Is this Nick?” a man’s voice asks.
“Yes,” I say, cradling the phone between my
■-shoulder and ear, turning oil the kitchen faucet.
“I have great news for you.”
The man introduces himself as the director of
a prestigious yoga teacher training program in
New York state. “I wanted to call personally to
tell you that the essay you submitted for our
scholarship contest was fantastic, and that you
are a finalist for the hill scholarship for teacher
¿raining.”
I stand in the middle of my sunny kitchen,
my mouth open, silent and shocked. The dishrag
drops from my hands, plops damply by my feet.
“First, there is a mountain,” Donovan trills from
the speakers, “then there is no mountain. Then,
there is.”
“Are you still there, Nick?” the director asks, a
hint of amusement in his voice.
“Yes! I mean, yes, I’m here. I’m just... I’m
shocked!” I stammer. “I mean, this is such an
honor! I’ve been studying yoga for 11 years! This
is amazing!”
“We at the school are just as excited as you,”
he continues. “It sounds like you’re an excellent
candidate and will make a great teacher. How-
remember to breathe
BY NICK MATTOS
simple. I am the man who spent the other eve
ning sitting at a bar downing Diet Cokes and
everything: my jobs, my house, my
picking apart the concept of “bros before hos”
for over an hour (Tip: Learn from my mistake
boyfriend, my money, my serene little
and don't do this). “Fundamentally, loyalty is
life here in Portland? Am I willing to
good,” I explained to Marshall, “but for a ‘bros
before hos’ system to be anything but extremely
leap just to hit the ground?
toxic it requires a certain kind of ‘bro,’ and a
ever, I was also calling to make sure that if you particular relationship with the ‘ho.’”
“Jesus Christ,” Marshall sighed bemusedly
were offered the scholarship, that you’d be able
to take it.”
over his beer. “Are you still parsing that shit
“W hat does the scholarship cover?” I ask, out?”
“There is more meaning to unpack!” I
leaning against the counter to steady myself.
“Tuition and costs for our monthlong resi laughed.
dential training program in New York,” he says,
As insufferable as this tendency of mine may
his voice giving away the warmth of a smile. “I be, here in my kitchen I would similarly parse
understand that some people can’t take a month out another favorite Nag Champa-scented hip
straight out of their lives, certainly. Also, it’s in pie trope: “Live your bliss, man.” I acquiesce
tense—250 hours of instruction in 30 days, 2 that “leap, and the net will appear” may be true,
hot yoga classes a day, lots of reading and study but to be successful it probably requires a cer
and self-reflection. That being said, from what tain sort of leap, a particular vantage point for
you wrote about in your essay, we think you can the leaping, an environment full of things that
handle it and would do excellently.”
can assemble themselves into a net. I would also
Blame it on an upbringing influenced by the assert that many who make drastic leaps to “live
Book of Proverbs or my degree in communica their bliss” underestimate the firm ground of
tions, but I tend to find most aphorisms overly rock bottom— that if no softer net appears, the
What if I leave for a month and lose
hard earth obliges itself to catch you. Will that
happen to me? I worry. What i f I leavefor a month
and lose everything: my jobs, my house, my boy
friend, my money, my serene little life here in Port
land? Am I willing to leap just to hit the ground?
I look out the window. “First, there is a
mountain,” Donovan repeats. A breeze comes
up, the cherry tree outside releases its hold on
the blossoms, they rain elegantly to rest on the
lawn. “Then, there is no mountain.” What would
I lose ifld id th is? \ think, a frantic sense of inde
cision tightening my chest. I watch the tree re
lease its flowers in the wind, the sun streaming
into my apartment, my yoga mat rolled up and
leaning against the wall. Even i f the aphorism is
wrong and the net won't appear, I wonder, am I
willing to leap anyway?
“W hat do you say, Nick?” the yogi on the line
asks. “If offered the scholarship, would you ac
cept it?”
The answer stands out boldly inside me, a
new mountain on my horizon, the landscape of
my life changed by the formation. I close my
eyes and smile. “Yes,” I speak into the phone,
surprised by the breathlessness in my voice, the
certainty of my nodding head. “Absolutely.” J#]
N ick M attos was later named the first recipi
ent o f the Evolation Yoga Teacher Training Schol
arship and is spending the month o f June in New
York getting certified to teach hot yoga. Send Port
land updates to nickmattos@justout.com.
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