In the Rapture of a Forgotten Union
My personal voyage into breathwork
An 11 minute read or 165 breaths
(based on 15 breaths per minute)
The (almost) beginning
It had just gone 10:30am when Mitch, his wife, and their beautiful 5-month-old baby girl walked into the community where I was staying. They had followed a tip from a friend after hearing about a “castle in the sky” and decided to take the arduous journey navigating public transport, collectivos, and mini vans to join us for a few hours. As luck would have it, they arrived just in time for breakfast. So, after all the introductions had been made, we created space for them to join us around the table. In the typical travelling conversational tone, the first questions to be asked were where are you? What do you do? And what brought you here?
It was Mitch who went first. He began sharing all about a breathwork training he’d just completed and the desire to find communities around the world where he could share his knowledge. That was one of the reasons for the trip down to Central America. This immediately sparked my curiosity and the curiosity of my new lover, so we began lovingly interrogating him. Almost as a submission, he invited us to participate in a session. He then told us to give ourselves 90 minutes to digest breakfast but then gather on the platform with a yoga mat, blanket, pillow, and some water.
I was in a home I knew well, riding the intensity that new love can inspire, and perched on the edge of a volcanic crater rim around the beautiful Lake Atitlan in Guatemala. So, as I laid down, closed my eyes, and heard Mitch press play on a 20-minute piece of music, I felt safe to play and explore.
Unlike other breathwork techniques, however, this piece of music was set to specifically designed brainwave music that’s designed to drop people into a deep meditative state. I didn’t know that at the time. All I heard was this deep base-y frequency that was beating to a rhythm of my heart, which both excited me and sent me into a nervous anticipation.
After a few deep, rhythmical breaths, I could literally feel the music re-wiring my brain and as I let go and surrendered deeper and deeper into the experience, I could feel my whole body and entire being dissolve, leaving me in a state of total bliss and at oneness. It was a baffling feeling, one where I felt like I was moving backward in time and forward in space simultaneously as if dancing between an ancient future. I then felt my cells fizz and pop. Heat rise and fall and my spine chill. Then I blacked out.
As I awoke, it was as if I had been reborn. Now, I know that sounds cheesy but what I experienced that day was what I imagine death to eventually feel like. So, in a way, it felt like I had died and come back. The air was incredibly still but not as still as my mind. It was one of the most serene and peaceful experiences of my life.
Then as my mind came back online and my need to know what happened kicked in, I turned to Mitch with a grin I couldn’t subdue and asked – what is this?!
The beginning
My love of breathing had begun 8 years prior to that fateful day, and it was on a different continent and under very different circumstances. I was SCUBA diving on the Great Barrier Reef back in 2010 where for the first time in my life I experienced the joy of breathing.
Since that awesome day 12 years ago, I have breathed close to 66 million breaths. And before that, there were 110 million more. It was those few hundred breaths that day, however, that was to change my life forever, and I’m eternally grateful for each and every one of them.
One of the things that struck me most that day was that it was the first time in my life that the quality of my breath was directly affecting the quality of my experience, and I was fascinated. I noticed, for example, that when my breath became faster than normal or if I unintentionally held it without realising, I would shoot to the surface without knowing how or why. I would then spend the next few seconds trying to understand what had just happened without much luck.
On the other hand, I also noticed that when my breath became slower, smoother, calmer, and deeper, I would feel far more relaxed and in control. So, even though I was completely enamoured by being submerged underwater in a completely new environment surrounded by gorgeous coral heads, sharks, and schools of fish, it was my breath that kept getting my attention. And it has done ever since.
It was as if I was allowed to understand its language for the very first time, even though its ancient touch still felt new. I then wondered how something so present and consistent in my life could be so unknown? And how something so life-giving and vital could be so foreign.
As you can imagine, this kind of philosophical thinking did nothing for my diving skills, much to the dismay of my ever-patient diving instructor. So, rather helplessly, I bobbed up and down like an ungraceful yoyo as I continued to be lost in the wonderment and awe of the breath’s presence. I do recall, however, somewhere in the middle of one of those unplanned ascents that I lovingly looked down at my instructor and thought “how the hell are you making this look so easy?!” And even though it was solely in my head, I remember him looking up at me and asking, “why are you making this look so hard?”
Adding to my efforts that day was that my breath was not only affecting the quality of my experience, but it was also determining the length of it too. On the same tank of air, for instance, I lasted a rather dismal 20 minutes while the rest of my group lasted 55.
Once everyone had resurfaced and was back on the boat, my instructor comforted me by saying that this was down to how experienced divers breathe slower, deeper breaths in and out, so their air lasts much longer. “Newer divers like you, on the other hand, tend to breathe shorter, quicker breaths so your air runs out much faster.” Only later did I come to learn the significance of this in terms of health, happiness, longevity, and pretty much everything else pertaining to life.
In that moment, however, I felt frustrated that my unsettled breath didn’t allow me to enjoy the fullness of being underwater. So, after leaving Australia a few months later, I decided to dedicate myself to learning as much as I could from there on in. I travelled over to Central America, made my way to the Caribbean islands of Honduras, found a local dive shop, and signed up for my first course. As soon as I hit pen to paper, I began surrounding myself with as many people that were willing to teach me as possible. Now, because there are lots of experienced divers around beginner divers for obvious safety reasons, it didn’t take me long to befriend those in the know.
The people I was drawn to most seemed to glide through the ocean without moving a muscle, simply allowing their breath to propel them up, down, in, and around beautiful coral heads, float upside down in perfect stillness, and be completely at one with the ocean. However, it was more than that. These people were calmer, clearer, and had an abundance of energy out of the water too, and that’s what got me thinking. So, after the customary introductions had been made, I asked them how.
“It’s safe to assume that the same laws apply to life as they do to SCUBA diving.” My soon-to-be instructor said. “We are all given a full tank of air when we’re born but if we breathe too fast, we’ll burn through it quickly. There’s a lot of research nowadays that shows we’ll also feel more stressed and overwhelmed because of it too. If we breathe slower, calmer breaths, on the other hand, our air will last much longer thus we’ll live longer. There’s also a lot of research that shows we’ll feel more relaxed and peaceful as a result too.
The same is true of life so the same rules apply. But there’s no getting around it: it all starts and ends with the breath.”
As time went on, I continued to learn many other great lessons from my instructor. “Once you have your body in the right place, it’s then time to prepare your mind and spirit in the same way. Start by gently observing your thoughts. Begin visualising how you want to move through the water, how you want to breathe down there, and for how long. Visualise as many details as you can. The more the better! Breathe them in. Bring them to life. Give them colour. Touch them. Smell them. Taste them. By visualising your dive ahead of time, you make it far more likely to happen.”
His words made me feel like I was not only learning the inside scoop on how to become a better diver but also on how the universe worked. So, it’s safe to say that from that moment onwards, my fascination only grew deeper.
He also advised me to observe marine life more closely. “Get to know what they like and what they don’t. Learn when they feel relaxed and when they feel scared. Start to learn their language so you can better understand your own.”
Taking his words to heart, I quickly understood that most marine animals are rather shy and timid by nature. They certainly don’t like the kind of quick and clumsy movements I was showcasing, that’s for sure. So, naturally, they keep their distance. Instead, they move with such style and grace as if they’re embraced in a passionate dance that never stops all the while making tiny adjustments as they go in response to the ocean’s touch.
I didn’t know how long I was to enjoy this eternal dance for, but I was determined to make it last as long as I could. So, a few weeks later when my immersive training had finished, I faced a fork in the road – to continue learning or find a new direction in life. I wasn’t anywhere close to being ready for a new direction, so I decided to make the Caribbean waters my semi-permanent home and work towards becoming a divemaster.
The next six months that followed were a time of pure freedom, adventure, hedonism, glory, guts, gluttony, bliss, love, laughter, loss, and everything in between. I was having the time of my life and I knew it. And luckily for me, it wasn’t about to end anytime soon. After my course had finished, I was offered a full-time job working at the dive shop that had trained me which I gladly took and did for the next two years. Then I became an instructor myself.
During my years of instructing, I truly came to appreciate the power of the breath because as much as I taught the required skills necessary to pass each individual course, a lot of my teaching (at least in the beginning anyway) was focused on breathing. I knew that if my student’s breath remained calm, for example, they would have a much easier and more enjoyable time learning and completing the required skills. And I knew that if they had a more enjoyable and relaxing experience learning the skills, they would be far more likely to continue diving in the future. I knew this well from my own experience on the Great Barrier Reef years before too.
Unfortunately, in moments when I had forgotten this, I learned the hard way that some students will never dive again because of one bad experience. In the end, it’s a fragile line and I knew it. That’s why I approached it as carefully as I could, allowing the breath’s presence to become an anchor my students could rely on and trust. And this has been my approach ever since.
Life Without Breathing
When it comes to what keeps us alive, there’s nothing quite like the breath. We can live without food for months and without water for days, but we can only live without breathing for a few precious seconds/minutes max. Nothing helped me realise this more than when I trained to become an Oxygen Provider & CPR instructor because there is something so utterly bizarre, awe-inspiring, and life-changing about seeing someone who has no vital signs come back to life from just a few simple (albeit forceful) breaths.
It seems the only thing separating life from death in those moments is the presence of the breath. So, as much as I have marvelled at what the breath can do in the body, I have also been humbled by the fragility of it when it gets taken away. And that connection between curiosity, respect, and wonder has stayed with me ever since.
When the Tides Began to Turn
As much as I was loving my life in the Caribbean, I knew deep down that my life in the fast lane had an expiry date and that it would come pretty fast. So, as I began to reach my late 20’s, I found myself looking for a change before I needed one.
One of the biggest catalysts that aided my movements away from the ocean was Kundalini yoga because the breathing exercises I experienced there captivated me as soon as I experienced them. They captured my heart in much the same way my first few breaths underwater did. So, that’s when I began to slowly move my life toward the mountains of Guatemala where a whole new exploration began to unfold. I studied ancient texts, immersed myself in yogic and meditation practices, explored psychedelic substances and plant medicines, dived into tantra, dance, pranayama exercises, and, of course, breathwork.
Cue Mitch’s arrival.
My first breathwork session lives in me with as much lucidity as my first SCUBA diving experience does. And both live in me with as much eye-watering mystery as my first psychedelic experience. The most profound thing about discovering the power of my breath, however, was that I didn’t have to go anywhere, take anything, or be with anyone to experience the same cosmic heights that I had come to know and love. Only later did I learn that breathing exercises are referred to as “the drug without the drug” for these exact reasons.
So, in a similar fashion to how my path unfolded on the way to becoming a SCUBA diving instructor, my journey toward becoming a breathwork facilitator followed a similar trajectory. First, I learned, studied, and explored all the different facets of the breath for the pure enjoyment of discovering a brand-new world. Then a couple of years later I began guiding and supporting others on their journey.
Now, I’m not going to lie and say that it’s always been that blissful journey into oneness that I first experienced because it hasn’t. In fact, it’s been quite the opposite. Working with the breath can reveal all kinds of layers, depths, and textures to one’s life, and more often than not, it does.
So, accompanying my wonderment and awe has been a fair dose of resistance, resentment, and frustration, along with a miraculous ability to conjure up every conceivable excuse known to man to get me out of breathing on the more challenging of days. However, what I’ve come to appreciate more than anything else is that the lows, as much as the highs, are an essential part of the process.
So, just like with all the best things in life, exploring the breath is a journey. One that I’ve found to be so incredibly rich and rewarding, challenging and expansive, revealing and uplifting, tender and empowering. And I wouldn’t change it for the world.
If you’ve been inspired my journey and want to experience breathwork yourself, here’s a link to my favourite technique that captured my heart and inspired these words.
But be warned - “The breath, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.”
(slight adaptation to Jacques Yves Cousteau quote about the ocean)