Very often we talk about the physical and mental benefits of yoga, the things we can see and feel without exploring too deeply. For instance, when I look in the mirror I see a flatter belly than I had four years ago, more definition in my arms and firmer quads. In the right light, if I look really, really hard and do a bit of squinting, I may notice that my butt cheeks aren't as south-bound as they probably should be at the ripe-old age of 28 (how much must I squint for my butt cheeks to also appear as smooth as the cheeks on my face?). The most obvious mental benefits are the ability to become still and to enjoy it, increased patience and development of awareness and compassion.

But there are other more subtle, (more private, perhaps?) benefits of yoga that we cannot readily see and that are harder to define and describe. These may include self-acceptance and healing.

Like many people when they first start yoga, I had a really hard time giving in to savasana (corpse pose, a time for relaxation and rest after class). Lying on the mat in a cold, dark room, I would struggle to empty my mind and mute the chatter. A voice inside me would taunt: "How dare you lie there and think of nothing but breathing and this present moment! Haven't you got work to do? A child to care for? The world to save?" By the time I had finished arguing with this voice, planned the next day at work, reflected on the one just past, thought about my daughter's birthday party and what I would do if the spider on the ceiling suddenly landed on my face, savasana was over and I was exhausted and frustrated at my inability to let go. And then slowly, it started happening. The pivotal point came for me during savasana one evening, in the same cold, dark room, when my inner voice burst through all the other noise inside my head and declared: "I AM a good girl!" Where it came from I do not really know but I do know why and I was relieved and grateful. It had taken me 25 years but I had finally achieved self-acceptance. This was gratifying because it was independent of anyone else's opinion or judgement.

My yoga practice changed from that moment on. I started to marvel at what my body was capable of and the way it was built. I realised how strong my body was I and I became grateful for the way I could move it. I started to see my body as a gift that I should appreciate and that I needed to start looking after it just like I would care for any gift I would receive. Yoga helped me to accept myself and allowed me to start being kinder to myself.

The kind of healing that comes from self-acceptance is like being slowly unravelled from a tight cocoon; suddenly there is light. Many people do not realise, or cannot admit, that they need some emotional healing time. I'm not necessarily talking about lying-on-a-couch-let's-go-back-to-your-childhood-hypnosis-healing. But everyone goes through 'stuff' and if you don't give yourself permission to reflect on it, isn't that just like putting a band-aid on a deep wound without stitching it up? Isn't it going to get start bleeding again the next time you knock it on some other 'stuff'? And what about when it gets infected?

This weekend I attended a two-day workshop on pelvic floor health. In case you are unaware: the pelvic floor is a region of muscles that protects our reproductive and excretory organs. A healthy pelvic floor is especially important to women because of the added stress to the area during pregnancy and childbirth. Strengthening the muscles involves contracting and releasing the perineal muscles and is related to the moola banda technique that we practice in yoga.

I was talking to a woman there who told me that she cried during one of her early periods of savasana because she had never really been still before. This alien feeling was confronting but she was brave enough to embrace it.

I met another woman who was perhaps in her 40s or early 50s. Her thick cropped hair was a mix of steel and white. Her body had battled breast cancer and as a result of treatment, she had a hysterectomy and both ovaries removed. As a consequence of this procedure, she was experiencing pelvic floor dysfunction. Her continuing health issues were debilitating and while her body looked strong and sturdy to me, her eyes were troubled and her voice soft. Her sister, a midwife, was also at the workshop and together they laughed deeply and richly, the way only sisters can. She expressed a need for time to herself. I told her that yoga would offer her time to heal and the start of a relationship with herself, "I've never had that," she replied.

Has yoga contributed to a healing process for you? How different would this process have been without yoga? I am excited for the inspirational women I met at the workshop because I think they may just start an incredible inward journey. Yoga may not heal physical wounds but it contributes to a deeper understanding of our bodies. With this understanding comes self-acceptance and healing. Smooth butts don't last forever anyway...