“Oh, no! What have I done to my leg?!” intones Liz, a yoga practitioner since 1998, a single mom of two teenagers, and the managing director of a financial services office in Dallas. “Did I re-injure my leg?” She has come to Park Cities Yoga Thursday afternoon after work seeking to address unexpected pain in her leg and back.

Many Americans associate yoga with the practice of poses called asanas. These poses with names drawn from nature and India’s history may be practiced at a variety of paces, sequences, and in a variety of settings. At the foundation of the asanas lies an understanding of wholeness and unity linking the physical body, its breath, the senses, and the manifestations of one’s mind.

More than a new variation of aerobics, yoga disciplines the body and the mind. One manifestation of the practice comes in the form of personal health. The following glimpse of Liz’s journey is a real-life example.

From day one of yoga, Liz had observed a positive sense of well-being. Her general tension diminished, she stopped treatment for TMJ, and she began to relax emotional habits. She had planned to stick with yoga as a steady, long-term personal investment strategy. Then, her life changed. Three years ago, in a freak accident, Liz fell on the street outside her North Dallas home, breaking her leg in three places. One of her first thoughts was – “Oh, no! No more yoga!”

Three years ago, Liz experienced emergency surgery, a titanium rod inserted into her leg, and an awakening to a layered veil of pain, anesthetic, and medication. In her rehab Liz included a personally modified yoga practice. Confined to a chair, beginning anew with her instructor, together they focused equally on breathing techniques and her limited range of motion.

Many yoga practitioners in Liz’s position would have given up. Either they would have waited to come back to their practice until the cast was off, or the stitches were out, or the bruising disappeared. But some others, such as Liz, use these challenges to see yoga with new eyes – as a tool for healing.

Thus began the next step of Liz’s yoga journey. She had known all along that yoga was something more than a modified aerobics routine. Her injury became her opportunity.

If before she had respectfully dismissed the breathing exercises (breathing! She didn’t have to be coached in breathing!), and if before her driven nature led her to measure her own practice with a competitive eye, now she approached her yoga with a fresh, perhaps startled, perspective. Without excruciating pain she could only move her foot and arm opposite the injury. Her neck and face her neck moved, too. Everything else hurt. Obviously, she could still breathe, and there she started again.

Some yogis say that the reason to practice yoga is to find the map that can take you to the treasure of your true nature. Liz discovered a yoga that assisted her healing. She progressed from wheelchair, to walker, to crutches, to one crutch, to a cane, and then full mobility. After many long weeks, a simple child pose brought her delight. She knelt on the floor, bent forward at the waist, hands rested by her feet. Her forehead touched the floor. She breathed. Inspired, she committed to move beyond her previous yoga postures and thereby committed to healing at a deeper level.

Liz felt empowered to guide her healing process. In fact, she felt a new kind of confidence and clarity in her relations with family and friends. She changed employers, moving into a position that better fit every aspect of her life. She responded to emotional challenges with balance.

Of course, yoga did not get Liz a new job or make her family happy. But yoga’s healing starts with the full recognition of one’s condition and accepts a commitment to personal transformation. One doesn’t simply recover. In healing one is changed. The change includes an awakened attention, a mindfulness. Cycles of life become more clear — life’s tests, their lessons and ultimate blessings.

Being mindful to look for lessons of life – such as “don’t ride your daughter’s scooter into a pothole and break your leg” allows one to grow intellectually, intuitively, and spiritually.

In one of the yoga studio’s morning sessions, Gena and Monique comment about this mindfulness. Gina says, “It has changed how I pick up Noah, my three-year-old. I pay attention to my breath and balance.” Monique adds, “It has changed my conversations. Not just with what I say, but how I listen.”

Ed is a lanky outdoorsman. He says, “The reading and meditation has brought a peace to my life. I practice a lot at home. I’m more centered than I used to be. I use yoga to get back on track – centered.”

Returning to the Thursday afternoon when Liz enters limping — she removes her shoes. She hobbles in to the studio and ooches painfully to the floor. “I need to lie on the floor.”

Liz works through a specific series of supported poses using the floor and wall. She practices some asanas with attention in ways she has not worked for many months. By the end of the session, she moves slowly, but with obvious relief. She goes home to soak in a tub of salts and essential oils.

The following Saturday, when Liz returns to her regular yoga session, she observes, “Funny I treated myself the way I did. I didn’t realize that it was about a new thing. Every time you stand, turn, move, you’re reminded of your pain. I tried really hard not to engage my leg at all.” She laughs and says, “It got worse!”

“The pain started to move from my hip across my whole back. My back. That’s when I knew it was something else. The day before, I had dragged a huge box of office supplies across an 11,000 square foot office, in heels, all twisted, agitated that no one bothered to help. I stood on a chair, in heels, did I say that? and lifted the box to a rack. That’s what I did. I didn’t re-injure my leg. I hurt my back.”

“All this makes me very optimistic about my injury, about how you and your body and mind can fix some things without drugs or a doctor visit, so it makes you feel empowered.”

“That I was able to change my pain level significantly, through my own mindfulness, that was a big deal.”