I Tried An “LSD” Breathing Class – And It Was My Weirdest Wellness Experience Yet
When it comes to wellness, I subscribe to the Gwyneth Paltrow, “It’s about finding the balance between tofu and cigarettes”, school of thought. I can’t help but feel deeply depressed by talk of “morning shed 12-step skincare routines”, or the Great Lock-In, when sometimes, the most effective form of self-care is staying out too late and drinking wine with the girlies. That said, I am also, as a dear friend once put it: “Very susceptible to woo-woo wellness trends.” I’m a sucker for anything that promises to “heal me”, whether it’s creating crystal moon water, practising manifestation, or doing EFT tapping exercises in the mirror every morning (the last two I actually swear by).
It was my ever-changing, sometimes turbulent journey with wellness that brought me to somatic therapy, a body-based alternative to talking therapy. I was increasingly bored with talking about the same things for 50 minutes on Zoom every week, and decided it was time for a new approach. Somatic therapy seeks to ground you in your physical experience, something we all could use in this ultra-online world. As Rob Rea, a human potential coach and breathwork practitioner, explains: “Breath and body are inseparable; the breath affects the body, and vice versa. People often repress emotions to get on with life, and the breathwork brings it to the surface in a safe container.”
Bearing all of this in mind, I leapt at the chance to join one of Rob’s breathwork classes when it was offered by British Vogue’s beauty and wellness editor (and fellow manifester), Morgan Fargo. Drunk on green tea and dripped out in head-to-toe Lululemon, I headed to 1 Hotel Mayfair for what I assumed would be a day of light contemplation, goal setting, and breathing into my diaphragm. Due to my slightly type B tendency to just go with the flow and turn up at things, I’d failed to realise that Rob’s technique has previously been dubbed “LSD” breathing, with attendees reporting Nine Perfect Strangers-esque levels of crying, shaking and writhing around on the floor. After a quick vinyasa session, it was time for the main event, with Rob urging us “not to worry”, and “to let what happens, happen”. It was at this point that I realised I was in for more than a few box breaths followed by 10 minutes in pigeon pose.
The practice is simple enough: breathe in through your mouth for four counts and sharply exhale, then repeat. The science behind it shows that this type of “controlled hyperventilation” temporarily affects oxygen and carbon dioxide levels in the body, shifting the nervous system and allowing emotion to surface. As Rob explains: “The prefrontal cortex (thinking mind) is getting turned down. This is the cognitive part of the brain that’s usually in control. When this is turned down as a result of physiological changes during the breathwork, there is a different part of the brain (limbic system) that comes forward, which looks after emotions and memory.” In essence, he adds, “what we’re doing is bypassing the strong thinking mind to access emotion, intuition or creativity. Emotion is energy in motion; crying, laughter, shaking is this energy moving.”
I spent the first 10 minutes trying to remember how to breathe through my mouth and count to four. Then the tingling started, and what started as pins and needles turned into uncontrollable shaking. My hands balled into fists, tears started pouring, and a huge weight pressed down on my chest. One moment, I felt like a helium balloon escaping from the circus, then Rob would gently tap my arm or shoulder, and I’d regain some awareness of my physical form. Eventually, the crushing weight lifted, while the cycle of shaking and seizing up continued beyond my control.