I live in Los Angeles, the epicenter of Wellness Chic™. Most of the time when people find out I’m a trauma-informed breathwork facilitator, they tell me about their experiences with breathwork and ask if I have any upcoming classes. But on recent trips abroad, I was reminded how ridiculous that can actually sound to people unfamiliar with it. In the U.K., a man in a pub was downright incredulous, “You’re telling me people actually pay you to teach them how to breathe? A thing we’ve all been doing since birth?”
I laughed. But no, it’s actually not like that at all.
Often, when people hear what I do, they’ll sheepishly tell me, “Oh, I really need to do that. I breathe so badly.” Let’s just dispel that myth right now. If you’re alive, you’re breathing well enough. We’re inundated with messaging around all of the things we could be doing better: diet, exercise, movement, mindfulness, the list goes on. The bio-hacking community is also very loud and all over social media. Who knew so many people love plunging themselves into ice cold water?
I wish them all the best! But that’s not what we’re doing in my little corner of wellness.
Put simply, breathwork is the act of consciously altering our breath pattern. You’ve probably done some form of breathwork without even realizing it. Ever taken a few deep breaths before a first date or a presentation? Ever comforted a crying friend by suggesting they slow their breathing? Congrats, you’re a breathwork facilitator now!
Kidding, but breathwork really is that accessible and intuitive.
Radical Breath, the breathwork practice that I founded over a year ago, is not about breathing for enhanced physical performance. It’s not even really about breathing more deeply. The kind of breathwork that I facilitate is a practice of releasing and receiving. The breath pattern I most frequently use is often called transformational, shamanic, or three-part breath. It involves breathing in and out through the mouth for the majority of the session. We inhale twice and follow with an exaggerated exhale. After a guided meditation and the active breath, we rest and allow the practice to integrate.
Let’s start with the science and then we can talk about the emotional and spiritual aspects.
Our autonomic nervous system is responsible for involuntary actions in the body and it consists of two parts: the sympathetic nervous system and the parasympathetic nervous system. The sympathetic nervous system is referred to as our “fight or flight” response. In our day to day lives, we can recognize when the sympathetic nervous system is activated— like when your heart races and you slam on the brakes to avoid an accident. For some of us, particularly those who’ve experienced trauma, PTSD, anxiety, and/or abuse, the sympathetic nervous system can become hyperactive. Our body’s well-meaning attempts to protect us are triggered more often than necessary. It can even lead to acute stress and physical illness such as TMJ, chronic digestive issues, and high blood pressure. Studies have repeatedly found that childhood trauma is associated with an increased likelihood of autoimmune diseases in adulthood.
The parasympathetic nervous system is referred to as our “rest and digest” response. By contrast, the parasympathetic nervous system conserves our energy, stimulates our digestive system to keep it running smoothly, and lowers our blood pressure. The breathwork that I facilitate stimulates the parasympathetic nervous system and the body’s natural relaxation process.
The mind-body connection is as obvious and undeniable as it is complex–think about how simply feeling nervous can make someone nauseous. Thankfully, the scientific and therapeutic communities are beginning to understand the psychobiology of trauma thanks to the work of researchers like Resmaa Menakem and Bessel Van Der Kolk. You’re probably familiar with Dr. Van Der Kolk’s succinct conclusion: “the body keeps the score.” Dr. Peter Levine, a psychotherapist and trauma researcher, developed Somatic Experiencing to address and treat trauma stored in the body. Like breathwork, it is a form of bottom-up processing (beginning with noticing sensations in the body versus starting with thoughts in the mind). In 2017, the first-known randomized control study of Somatic Experiencing, found that after 15 weekly sessions 44% of participants no longer met the criteria for PTSD.
But the mind-body connection has been respected and understood by Indigenous cultures across the world for thousands of years. It’s only news to those of us who’ve been steeped in imperialist white supremacist capitalist heteropatriarchy. I mean, what would happen to grind culture if we actually listened to our bodies?
When we consciously alter the breath, listen to the guidance of the facilitator and the music, we drop into the body. The thinking mind gets quiet (eventually, this chronic overthinker can attest!) and the innate intelligence stored in our bodies becomes accessible. One of the first things I tell clients they might experience is some resistance. Our attention is constantly being pulled in so many different directions, it can feel uncomfortable—even confronting—to just be present with ourselves. It’s a far cry from scrolling on our phones while simultaneously watching the Real Housewives argue. Typically, once we move through the resistance, emotions will arise, often in the form of tears. We may connect the feeling directly to a past experience or it may seem to come from nowhere. If you’ve ever teared up during a massage or a hip opener in a yoga class, you know the feeling.
The reality is that it doesn’t necessarily matter if we can make sense of it. What matters is that this practice allows us to access and release it.
When I first found breathwork, I booked a series of private sessions over an entire summer. I would go into sessions feeling “fine” and then find myself crying and occasionally screaming into a pillow. I had no idea I was holding so much. I was in therapy, I had tried yoga therapy, I journaled, and I had a mindfulness practice. But breathwork was the modality that finally helped me access and release the trauma my body had been carrying around for years. To this day, nothing makes me feel lighter, freer, or more relieved.
What I didn’t expect or anticipate was the way that it would lead me to become a more spiritual person. It’s said that breathwork became popular in the US in the late 60s and early 70s when LSD and psilocybin were criminalized. People found that you could access alternative states of consciousness through intentionally altering your breath. Every session is different, but I have experienced firsthand journey-like experiences with breathwork. I’ve also received insight and clarity during a session, clear messages that come from outside of my thinking mind (but more on that later). My clients—even the ones who wouldn’t call themselves spiritual—report visions, downloads, visitations, all kinds of phenomena that can’t be easily explained by science alone. Admittedly, it’s fun when the most skeptical 50-something-year-old white man in the corporate session, who is only participating because it’s a mandatory retreat, finally drops into the breath and then becomes the first to excitedly share what he’s unlocked.
The conclusion I’ve come to is that like prayer, breathwork is a spiritual practice. And like prayer and meditation, there are myriad positive effects for those who do it regularly. As I tell my clients, one of the lessons this practice has taught me over the years is that people receive whatever they are meant to receive from each session. And while I never saw myself in this space (I actually studied criminology and wanted to work on exonerating wrongfully convicted people), I’m grateful that I was led here. It’s an honor to hold space for others, especially those who don’t see themselves reflected in most wellness spaces, and my sliding-scale work allows me to share this practice with people for whom it might otherwise be completely inaccessible.
Articulate, informative and thought-provoking. Thank you!
I'm going to have to be honest, I never knew a breathwork facilitator even existed until this post. After reading, I don't know how I never considered going to one of these sessions. Looks so therapeutic and would be an enjoyable experience.