I was at the beach this afternoon and found myself talking with my uncle Mort about of all things yoga! He is a Physics teacher and a cynic at heart. He questioned me about how one is tested in yoga. "How does one win" or "how can one be measured" were the sorts of things he was asking about. I explained that yoga is not about advancing but about calming the mind.

I went through the eight limbs of yoga as described by Patanjali stopped me on Pratyahara, and asked well how does one do this? I answered that one has to embark on the path of yoga and practice yama and niyama, pranayama and asana before one is able to even think of pratyahara. I told him that yoga, like physics, is a science that needs to be approached in a methodical way. He did not like the sound of this and went on a 5 minute rant about science being proven and tested and this sort of talk. Then I told him that many quanta physicists where now coming to the same conclusions as many of the mystics thousands of years ago. He continued to disagree with me, and scold me that meta-physics can never be proven and therefor is not science.
We were definitely coming from different directions, but in the end I told him that yoga was a practice endeavor and that it did not matter if we called it science or smience. It still works.

Sometimes during conversations I preclude sentences with, "I know it's not very yogic of me but..." and then I will launch into a tirade about how ridiculous the mother at the park looked in her short red skirt, white knee socks and brown, suede heels with sequins (I'm serious).

'Yogic' behaviour subscribes to yoga's philosophical underpinnings, namely Patanjali's Eight Limbs:

1. Yama- universal codes of conduct
2. Niyama- individual observations
3. Asana- physical postures
4. Pranayama- breathing techniques
5. Pratyahara- sense withdrawal
6. Dharana- concentration
7. Dyhana- meditation
8. Samadhi- eternal bliss

The first two Limbs are concerned with moral and ethical observations and much like Christianity's 10 Commandments, they are concerned with being 'good'. The reward for following them is eternal bliss, samadhi, freedom from worldly constraints and the cycle of birth, death and rebirth. You know, nirvana.

But how achievable are Patanjali's 2500-year-old Yamas and Niyamas today? Let's have a look at the five Yamas and see how we stack up.

Yamas

1. Ahimsa (Non-violence towards all living things)
Ahimsa is about loving-kindness but is it realistic to never say or think anything violent? Can you practice Ahimsa when you are on hold with Optus and you are trying to communicate with that electronic woman whose joy-level seems to increase at the same rate as your frustration-level? Can you continue practicing Ahimsa even when you've been on hold for 17minutes and 12seconds and the recorded message keeps repeating how much your custom is valued? What about when you get disconnected after waiting 23minutes and 49seconds and you have to start with happy-electronic woman all over again? This is probably a really good test of your ability to practice non-violence when what you really want to do instead is beat the handset down on the breakfast bench until the plastic cracks and the screen blisters.

2. Satya (Truthfulness in thought, word, deed)
When was the last time you lied? Can we practice Satya completely while still practicing loving-kindness? How many times has someone asked how you are and you have replied, ''Good thanks!'' when you look as though you haven't slept for a week? And is saying nothing at all the same as lying?

3. Asteya (Non-stealing)
As well as the literal meaning of Asteya, it also includes misappropriation, breach of trust and misuse.

4. Brahamacharya (Continence/Chastity)
No need to don robes or a habit just yet; Brahamacharya is about healthy, positive relationships, seeking divinity and truth and not being distracted from your purpose by sensual pleasures.

5. Aparigraha- (Non-coveting)
In a world where more is more and excessive consumption is the norm, Aparigraha is the Yama I struggle with most. I don't eat animals, I promote honesty to my daughter and young students, I don't take what's not mine and I'm on a quest for truth but Aparigraha is tough for me. Why? Because I like beautiful things and being surrounded by them makes me feel good. I like expensive clothes, I think tea tastes better in fine china and water from a heavy crystal jug, I want an expansive home library and art on the walls and I want shoes, lots and lots of pairs of shoes. And I'm greedy for knowledge too.

I'm obviously a sadhaka in progress. What about you? How often do you think about Yamas and how important are they to your yoga journey?

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...

"Morning! How was your weekend?"
"Great," I reply. "I had yoga teacher training on Saturday and we had breakfast at Brighton beach on Sunday."
"Sounds lovely. You know, I've been meaning to ask you for a while now, what exactly is yoga?"
I take a breath: "Well, Patanjali defined yoga in his sutras about 2500 years ago as citta vrtti nirodah. This roughly translates as stilling the distractions of the mind. Yoga is an ancient art, science and philosophy dedicated to stilling these distractions through physical postures and rhythmic breathing. The result is a moving meditation with various physical, mental and spiritual health benefits. It's basically an all-encompassing pursuit towards enlightenment."
My colleague's smile appears thinner, her eyebrows slightly higher than before she asked her question, "Okay then. Great. Thanks for that. Have a good day."
I watch her walk away and realise I forgot to mention the Eight Limbs, mudras, bandhas and shatkarma.

How many times has somebody asked you about yoga, what it is and why you do it? And how many times have you watered down your response or felt unable to give them the compact, user-friendly definition you know they're after? I am often torn between providing a succinct response that I know will cater to people's hunger for new-age/self-help/quick-fix remedies and a more in-depth definition that I know does yoga more justice. Whenever I offer the surface-layer definition I feel like an unfaithful lover, lying about the seriousness of my relationship status. Am I right in assuming that enquiring non-yogis only want to hear about the superficial benefits of yoga; the toned arms and thighs, the calmer mind? Does a heartier explanation of the science of yoga scare them off before they've even purchased a $10 foam mat from Go-Lo?

I discovered yoga in 2001 when I was pregnant with my daughter. I printed some pre-natal sequences off the net because I wanted 'open hips' and breathing techniques that would give me the daisy-chain birthing experience most 21st century mothers seek. I had no idea that yoga would help me connect with the little life flourishing inside me through my breath each day. For the first time in my 21 years, I was getting a taste of contentment and peace. After the birth, I bought a yoga-DVD-with-accompanying-illustrated-hard-cover-book, which was soon buried under titles like Elmo: Lost in Grouchland and Care Bears: Journey to Joke-a-lot.

It wasn't until 2005 that I came across a flyer advertising beginner yoga courses in my area. I was 25 and in the aftermath of major relationship breakdown. Yoga seemed a beacon, a selfish indulgence, a mystery I had to solve, a journey I was meant to be on a long, long time ago. My first teacher was thorough bordering on pedantic, serious bordering on humourless, passionate bordering on obsessive and absolutely everything I needed. In his introduction he stated that he could not begin to possibly define or describe yoga only that it would deliver clarity and freedom from illusion. That was the only hook I needed. Fast forward to 2008 and I am halfway through teacher training simply because I believe we are all dying for the clarity and freedom.

For me, yoga is about magnificent communion and dynamic relationship: communion of my mind, breath, body and spirit; relationship with my heart, lungs and limbs. During and after practice is when I feel most whole, alive, strong, honest and beautiful. My yoga-high makes me want to run, fly, laugh, cry. I come home and I want to talk, listen, paint, cook, make love, sing. It gives me vision and hope.

How can I package that experience for someone when they ask me what yoga is, without them thinking I must also burn incense and chant aum all day? Should I just say what I think they want to hear (yoga tones your body and relaxes you) and hope that they find a good teacher and stick it out long enough to realise that an island holiday is relaxing but yoga is much, much more.

Maybe I should simply smile and say, "Find yoga; find yourself."

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