What is My Work Now? by Bill Wofford
A few years back, I found myself in a funk. The nest had just emptied, and my work of many years no longer fulfilled me as it once had. Nothing was wrong, exactly—but I felt rudderless, in need of a clearer sense of purpose. A dear friend named it crisply: “What is your work now?”
My initial reaction was something like, why are we talking about work? I’ve worked hard for a long time—maybe it’s time to focus on play. I like play as much as the next person (methinks more than many). Still, I’ve come to believe that a meaningful life has less to do with chasing achievement or pleasure and more to do with spending a good chunk of time engaged in work that feels—at a gut level—worth doing.
In recent years, much of my work has involved yoga—studying, practicing, teaching, and beginning to learn how to live it. And as I’ve made my way along the yogic path—sometimes striding, sometimes sprinting, often stumbling, occasionally crawling—I’ve felt a steady pull toward service. As with my teachers and many others before me, that pull feels like a natural expression of sincere practice.
As I’ve dug deeper, I’ve come to understand seva as selfless action offered without expectation, identity, or attachment to outcome. Not service performed in hopes of appreciation or validation—no gold stars, no tax deduction receipts. The same action can either dissolve the ego or quietly feed it.
Of course, the familiar Western script pipes up, insisting there’s no such thing as true altruism because helping others feels good or earns acclaim—and that payoff, not the act itself, must be the real motivation. Yoga doesn’t deny that good feelings arise from doing good deeds. It simply asks a different question: Whom are you serving? If the answer, in any way, is me, then it’s an egoic act, not seva. Seva is service that happens through you, not something you do to rack up credits at the Bank of Karma.
That distinction came into sharp focus during a recent trip Lexie and I took to celebrate her dad’s 90th birthday. During a break in the revelry, we visited Sangha House NOLA, a Buddhist sanctuary in the Seventh Ward founded by the Venerable Sister Clear Grace Dayananda—also known as the Traveling Nunk—along with her feline sidekick, Upeksa (equanimity). Some longtime Yoga Gardeners may remember Sister leading a powerful weekend of mindfulness practice.
What moved me most was how this small sanctuary lives to serve. While I was busy grinding my teeth at news of ICE vans raiding schools, construction sites, and restaurants, Sister and her sangha were delivering meals, holding vigils, and offering refuge to people experiencing homelessness—quietly, humbly, and without attachment to outcome.
Back home, I find myself again asking: What is my work now? Support a CORA food drive? Plant some trees? Help my mom move? Plan the next kriya journey? All of it feels good. Seva or not, I’ll keep seeking out work that feels worthwhile.
