Ninety percent of what most yoga teachers do is teach asana practice. While asana discharges stress and so forth, it was never intended to be a standalone practice. The true intent of yoga is personal transformation. What we get out of the privilege of teaching prisoners is the opportunity to focus on our own personal development. You can be of service, and, while helping others transform their lives, you have the deeper opportunity to transform your own. What we teach in prison is how we live our lives.

When you're on the yard, prisoner politics dictate that you only socialize with your own race. If you fraternize with other races, you can get taught a painful lesson. And there are inmates with a level of consciousness who feel it's their duty to enforce this segregation.

Yoga class is intimate even just from the standpoint of taking off your socks. Exposing your bare feet can be a big deal. You may be an African American next to a Caucasian or a Latino. But once practice begins and we drop in, separation dissolves.

I'm not fearful by nature, but I am vigilant. When you walk into a prison, it's important that a sixth sense kicks in.

I teach that the foundation for our practice is being able to go inward and disconnect from the busyness of our thoughts, that focusing the mind on bodily sensations and breath will ground us in the present moment. Yoga is about realizing who you really are, aside from your persona.

Intense asana practice - too much, too soon - can have detrimental effects. It can also promote a dissociation from the personal sensitivity and self awareness that I am trying to encourage. I don't want to contribute to furthering physical or psychological trauma.

You will surely smile with me when I say, 'Thank God one can still recognise self-pity as such and not give it any greater dignity than just that.