The first time I came across the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali was during my first Teacher Training in 2013, at Dancing Warrior Yoga in Sydney’s Inner West.
At the time I lived with my then boyfriends Mum in a place called Yarrawarrah, far South Sydney, the end of the train line. Each morning I’d take the long journey into the city. In those days I boycotted smartphones so I’d spend my time looking out the window trying to decipher the graffiti that turned the grey expanse of the suburbs into a chaotic rainbow on acid.