“Yoga lady here!” Darryl* calls out to his peers in the Mental Health Unit of the DC Jail,as I get buzzed through the final sliding metal door.

A man in his mid-50s with a spine bent in half from multiple bullet wounds, Darryl is practically skipping from cell to cell, rousing the other detainees and encouraging them to join us for class in the makeshift studio—an otherwise unused basketball court with no nets. The gray space is windowless and aggressively lit overhead, yet free of all distractions. If you close your eyes and take a deep, deeply vulnerable breath, ignoring the security guard with a taser on his hip hovering at the door, you can imagine this is a cement sanctuary for silent contemplation, maybe even healing.

Some inmates are still fast asleep at 10 am, though their bunked cots provide little more comfort than a cardboard box. But Darryl is undeterred. Thanks to his boisterous enthusiasm, others start craning their necks to see what all the fuss is about. Meanwhile, a few of my “regular” students rush in to roll out their mats, Styrofoam cups filled with cold, stale, instant coffee in hand.

During the two years I have taught 40-minute yoga classes at the DC jail twice a week, I see some students almost every time I visit, and others only once. Darryl was one of the few whom I had the privilege of guiding week after week. At first, he was barely able to sit comfortably on the ground and trembled profusely as he transitioned from one balancing posture to another. Then one day, after over a year, Darryl’s feet suspended in the air for three or so glorious seconds in Crow Pose (Bakasana), his knees neatly stacked on the backs of his forearms.

The psychospiritual, mental, and physical transformation I witnessed in him during our brief time together will remain forever etched into my heart. But that’s not why I chose to teach “on the inside.” After my 200-hour trauma-informed teacher training, I never relied on yoga as a source of income, but rather as a form of spiritual payment, or seva, which translates to selfless service, in action.

The Case for (More) Selfless Service

“Seva reminds us that yoga doesn’t end on the mat…It’s a living practice,” says Rosie Acosta, a first-generation Mexican-American mindfulness teacher at Headspace and a volunteer for the ReEvolution prison project. “When we step into service, we cultivate humility and remember that the true purpose of yoga is connection, not just to ourselves but to the community around us.”

For my part, I rarely set foot in a yoga studio to instruct. Instead, I choose to intentionally share the practice in unconventional environments. The modern, Westernized practice of yoga is undeniably traded as a commodity more often than not, and is not often available to the most vulnerable among us. This has largely been the norm since the late 1800s, when it first dazzled seekers in the United States.

But more than a century has passed since then, and more than two decades since Yoga Alliance began standardizing yoga training globally. It is hard to imagine that, still today, out of 200, 300, or 500 cumulative yoga teacher training (YTT) hours, none should be allocated to the required integration of the foundational principle of karma yoga. The need is great, the opportunities for mutual aid abound, and there is ample evidence that yoga reduces psychological stress. At a time when the “business of yoga” is poised to surpass hundreds of billions of dollars, and tuition for most yoga teacher trainings is in the thousands of dollars, could we afford to invest some of that time during YTT programs exploring the role of seva and participating in a cause greater than themselves?

“Service grounds us in compassion, accountability, and presence,” says Acosta, “helping us lead not just from what we’ve studied, but from what we’ve embodied in real relationships.” As in love, so in yoga. How can we ask others to “surrender” to Aikyam (Oneness) if we haven’t ever practiced the core virtues of “yoking” close to home in our own communities?

Serving others also allows us to set aside our own fears, worries, and whatever else is going on in our lives. Seva shifts the focus from “What do I need?” to “What can I offer?”

Just because compulsory community service isn’t part of the standard curriculum doesn’t mean you can’t embody the practice of seva before, during, and after your YTT.

How to Practice Seva as a Yoga Teacher

The man who quite literally wrote the book on the topic of mutual aid, Peter Kropotkin, teaches, “Practicing mutual aid is the surest means for giving each other and to all the greatest safety, the best guarantee of existence and progress, bodily, intellectual and moral.” Getting started with seva isn’t as hard as you might think. If you feel compelled to bring free yoga to the people but don’t know how yet, here are a few simple ways to get started.

1. Keep it Simple

“Start small and close to home,” Acosta advises. “Offer meditation at a local community center, volunteer at a shelter, or mentor someone in need of guidance. Service doesn’t have to be grand; it’s the consistent act of showing up with heart that weaves yoga into the fabric of everyday life.”

2. Lean on Your Cohort

Once you’ve completed a YTT program, you’re automatically part of a close-knit group, likely sharing similar experiences and values, if not geographical location. Consider collaborating with students from your cohort to pursue volunteer opportunities together, or create a community sangha for a population you’re passionate about supporting.

Note: You may need additional training to support certain populations.

3. Practice Seva at Home

Another underappreciated area of service is within our own families. (Watch this son teach his parents how to meditate for inspiration!)

4. Look Outside Your Circle

One question I used to ask when I led DEI workshops in my studio’s trauma-informed 200-hour YTT program was, “Who’s missing from the room?” The purpose of this inquiry is to observe, consider, and try to empathize with those who are not right in front of us, and then ask how we can learn what their needs are, and support that in ways that honor their dignity, agency, and goals.

* Names have been changed for privacy protection.