I’ve directly experienced yoga’s positive changes and improved flexibility and balance. They are specific and objective measures that bode well for my aging that I can easily demonstrate to anyone. The other aspects are subjective; I cannot qualitatively demonstrate the ability to remain calm in stressful situations, a willingness to let go, better awareness, or better decision making and discernment.

I’ve learned that yoga is not about ability or athleticism; it’s about an altered perspective to deeper awareness. Greater awareness is not something I’ve achieved and is not something I can put on a resume as a past job accomplishment. Greater awareness is not a marketable skill as it will not convince an employer that I’d be a good candidate for a managerial position; but when I hold up the mirror of self-awareness, it tells me that I am fluid and open to learn, to change, and therefore poised for personal and professional growth. That’s the kind of person I want for my manager.

But my practice, 13 years in the making, has directly impacted me. If yoga could speak, it would tell me that since I started yoga, my mindset is more agile, my way of looking at life has shifted, and my adaptation to change is fluid, including a move to a new state, new work, a new community, and new goals.

The ability to change was the centrepiece of a bestseller in 1998 called Who Moved My Cheese. The premise was that important skills in the new economy will include mental flexibility and the ability to adapt. And while most casual observers of yoga might think yoga is the demonstration of an impressive pose or a group of people chanting and meditating, is that really what’s going on in yoga, or is it something else.