I Learned Ecstatic Breathwork in a Hot-Ass Room in Thailand

I learned the ecstatic breath I teach now in Thailand.

And before you picture some beautiful open-air yoga shala overlooking the ocean, absolutely not.

I learned it in what I can only describe as a hot-ass, sweat-lodge-type facility where we would breathe for like three hours at a time. It was hot. It was sweaty. It was gross. People were breathing loudly. Bodies were moving. Emotions were happening. I was lying there drenched in sweat wondering what the fuck I had gotten myself into.

And I was so averse to the entire thing.

I felt stupid.

Like, genuinely stupid.

What is this hippie shit? Why am I lying on the floor breathing like this with a bunch of strangers? And more importantly, what exactly was this supposed to do for me? Because in my mind, I was fine. I didn’t have anything to work on. Breathwork couldn’t save me.

Which, looking back, is hilarious.

But I kept going back. I wish I could tell you I had some huge spiritual awakening the first time and immediately understood why everyone was obsessed with it.

Absolutely not.

It took me until my fifth time. Five times of sweating my ass off. Five times of feeling awkward. Five times of being so aware of myself that I couldn’t actually let myself be in the experience.

And then I finally stopped caring that I felt stupid.

That was it.

I just let myself fucking feel.

I stopped watching myself do the practice. I stopped judging how weird it was. I stopped thinking about what I was supposed to be getting out of it. I was just there. In the moment. In the practice. In the breath.

I know. Hippie bullshit.

But I think we’ve all had some version of that moment.

Running. Hiking. Swimming. On your yoga mat. Standing somewhere in nature.

Whatever it is for you.

That little:

Oh.

I’m here.

Nothing profound happened. Breathwork didn’t magically save me. I didn’t suddenly have all the answers. I just allowed myself to be completely in the moment instead of standing outside of it analyzing myself.

And apparently that was enough.

I had no idea then that this weird, sweaty experience in Thailand would eventually become the breath I teach here in Las Vegas. Or that I would eventually teach other people how to facilitate it.

But here we are.

Less sweaty. Still weird.

I just get it now.