personal-story – Beyond the Breath Online Magazine

Who the heck is this?

23/11/2024 No Comments

Hey! Sophie here. I’m an almost 30 year old red-headed Yorkshire lass just starting my journey with Breathing Space to become the best breathwork facilitator Yorkshire ever saw.

This belief in myself is not something I’m hugely familiar with – it has grown in the last few years and particularly since May this year when I experienced by first Conscious Connected Breathwork class whilst on a ‘wellness’ retreat in Greece (I use the term lightly as the trip was run by regular party goers who were aiming for chill vibes. They did alright to be fair).

But who is she REALLY?
Ya gal has been through some shit. The shit started when my ex died in 2020. This was bruuuutal I can tell you. Him dying changed my perspective on literally everything in my life. I was pissed at couples walking down the street holding hands. I was reluctant to pay off my credit card because what was the point? I might die tomorrow shrugs nonchalantly (Obvs I did pay my credit card because ya gal has anxieties that override everything else)!

BUT

Whilst navigating the classic stages of grief, I realised I was actually quite liking the person I was becoming. Pre-trauma Sophie was proper square. She was a rule follower to a T and her life was lacking fun because of this. I had been a people pleaser and would prioritise everyone else’s emotional well-being waheeeey before my own. Shortly into this grief journey, I started to become more selfish but in the best way. Being selfish isn’t a bad thing. Being selfish means introducing boundaries and honouring your own emotions and wellbeing before anyone else’s. I have feelings too dammit, and they’re absolutely valid.

Since 2020 I have also lost both my Dad and my Cousin. Again, this was horrific to go through. Sadly, feeling quite experienced in the realm of grief by this point, I was able to draw on the journey I’d already navigated and seemed to handle these things fairly well (in the grand scheme of things). Don’t get me wrong, I felt incredibly guilty for feeling OK again much sooner!

My dry sense of humour has always been a masking tool I’ve drawn upon. My ability to joke about ~dark~ stuff is one of my favourite qualities. However, in the last couple of years my spiritual side has ventured into sight and I am exploring all kinds of weird and wonderful woo woo worlds (top marks for alliteration here). Because of this, the dark humour no longer served me QUITE as well. I was being forced to confront and FEEL things.

I saw a post today about the term ‘lifequake’. “A significant and unexpected shift in the trajectory of your life that initially feels devastating but has the beneficial outcome of catalyzing personal growth, transformation and rebirth.” Not sure who to credit for this but all hail this being! Thank you to Martin, Jaygo and Dad for being my lifequakes (although, given the choice, would’ve preferred you not to have been)!

Why breathwork?
Having worked in the NHS for 7 years, I got myself into a bit of a mental pickle. I know it isn’t something I want to do forever but what the Dickens could I do instead?! Cue the aforementioned wholesome trip to Greece in May 2024. We had a list of add-ons to choose from beforehand with breathwork being one of them. I didn’t give it much thought, thinking it sounded a bit lame or me. Obviously I got FOMO from everyone talking about the AMAZING experiences they’d had.

Thankfully, more sessions were put on so I signed up. Boooooyyyy am I grateful for that! It was a conscious connected breathwork session. It was hard. It was uncomfortable. It was weird. I was feeling a bit on edge anyway so it wasn’t much of a surprise when I started crying. I wasn’t quite ready for the full on emotional release that followed, though. We breathed with open mouths into the belly, chest, head, on cycle for about 20 minutes. The facilitator touched my abdomen and it was like she was literally pushing tears out of my face. Incredible. Suddenly, I realised what I had to do. I NEEDED to become a breathwork facilitator. So here I am – one seminar into the Breathing Space Breathwork Facilitator Programme, going for gold.

What’s the plan?
So what’s next? Well, I’m going to put my absolute all into the course. I’m going to learn everything I can and experience everything I can to make me the absolute best facilitator I can be. I hope to help people through their lifequakes so that they too might go for gold.

Sophie x

Sophie | @sanguine.soph

To find out more about Sophie, take a look at her profile in Practitioners Corner

In Breathwork Reflections

Breathwork: A Journey from Control to Acceptance

19/11/2024 No Comments

Breathwork changed my life in ways I couldn’t have anticipated. For most of my life, I was a chronic overthinker, always on alert, always afraid that happiness was something fleeting, a thing that would eventually slip through my fingers. Even in moments of joy, I was braced for it to end, and in every other moment, I fought to control the world around me. From school struggles to navigating
motherhood, I felt I had to manage every little thing, and that meant controlling not only myself but everyone else around me. It was exhausting.

Raising teens was the real turning point. My children, who I loved fiercely, were not interested in living life on my terms. They were on their own journeys, with their own dreams, fears, and choices. And my efforts to control them were met with resistance and frustration—from them and, eventually, from me too. This
was the wake-up call I needed, and it became painfully clear that I couldn’t go on this way. I was drained, burnt out, and anxious. I needed something different, but I didn’t know what that was yet.

Like so many, I first turned to meditation, but it didn’t connect with me in a way that felt sustainable or transformative. Then, I found the breath.

I started with the basics—simple breathing techniques I could incorporate into my day. These techniques were my first lessons in presence and control, a way to connect with myself in a way that I hadn’t before. Bit by bit, I started to feel different, as though I was rediscovering something about myself that had long
been buried. Slowly, my relationship with control began to shift, and it was only the beginning.

Then I discovered conscious connected breathing, and my world changed again. This practice took me deeper, helping me release layers of tension and emotion that I didn’t even realize I was holding. For the first time, I began to accept myself, not as someone trying to become or achieve something different but
simply as myself. Breath by breath, I found a sense of peace, and for the first time, I could sit with who I was without judgment or expectation.

The most transformative lesson of all was acceptance. I began to let go of old wounds and beliefs I had clung to for years. I found myself re-examining experiences I had long carried as heavy burdens, questioning the meanings I had attached to them. I was rewriting the emotions and perspectives that shaped my past. Little by little, I could see these experiences as steps on the journey rather than things I had to battle or overcome.

And here I am, still evolving but finally feeling at home in my skin. The journey isn’t about becoming someone new; it’s about meeting myself as I am, with all my imperfections, strengths, and weaknesses.
Breathwork has changed my relationships with others as well. As a mother, I’ve become more accepting, more open, less controlling. I see my children for who they are, and I trust them on their paths. As a teacher, I now focus on what matters most. Connection—real, honest connection—is what truly makes an impact. In my classroom and at home, I’m more compassionate, less self-critical, and more able to embrace both myself and others without judgment.

Learning to breathe was my first step to learning to live. It’s a journey of release, acceptance, and growth. And if I can offer one insight from my experience, it would be this: the answers we seek are often not in striving but in simply being—being with ourselves, our breaths, our truths.

Marie Doherty – Empowering Women to Breathe, Thrive, and Shine.

To find out more about Marie, take a look at her profile in Practitioners Corner

In Breathwork Reflections

The graceful exit.

01/11/2024 No Comments

I published this anonymously in 2020, I’m now able to share this as myself.

Today I have spent the day working out how to gracefully exit this life. No food or drink has passed my lips. I know that starvation is a long and drawn-out way to exit, so that is not my graceful plan, it’s just that my throat feels closed and my breath is shallow and often held at the bottom of the exhale, as if I am willing myself to not take the next breath.

And in this disconnected state, I joined my breathwork facilitator training (camera off) as scheduled this evening, not because I wanted to, but because there was a guest speaker I admire greatly. I’m not going to mention his name, because I am probably misquoting him below and that wouldn’t be a fair reflection on him. It’s just that he spoke to my heart. Or maybe in oneness he really did tune in and speak my heart. But of course, I heard what I needed to hear, not necessarily what he said and in my fragile state they could be two very different things, so again anonymity is best!

I have wondered for some time about the concept of ‘doing the work’ and expecting to see the benefits in the map of your life. Work for reward. I suppose it feeds into my mother wound of ‘you don’t get anything without hard work’ ‘worthiness (and love) come from good behaviour’ ‘doing it right’ ‘following the rules’ ‘doing the work’, and yet, I have struggled through the weeds and the brambles of doing the right thing, many times, and the rewards appear limited and the struggle endless. The work to reward ratio unfair.

Deeper than that thought of fairness, the concept itself does not feel right. Work for Reward. From a human perspective if I have it, whatever it is, my daughter is welcome to it … all. So why is ‘the universal law’ so different?

On reflection, it feels exactly like the edge I was on when I walked away from a very indoctrinated and fully lived experience of born-again religion, the deep knowing that it wasn’t right as I saw the bible through the eyes of hierarchy, of patriarchy, of the suppression of humanness. The control – like scales removed from my eyes. But at the same time, I miss the certainty. In the beginning was the word.

Inside I am screaming, please help me, I do not want to throw the ‘spiritual’ baby out with the bathwater, again. There must be a way!

My recent inner guidance, whenever I listen, is simply to trust. Thus the ‘doing’, where I am most comfortable is at an all-time low. Self-work/exploration forms a good proportion of what I do with my days and whilst the big picture dream of my path feels so real to me that I could indeed be in the mystery of pregnancy, creating that dream, it is not possible to financially birth this sizable dream from my current activity. Then in other corners of life where that funding might have come forth, the recent twists and turns render my immediate landscape not only barren but dangerous.

I suppose this could be another wandering the desert moment, this time crying out ‘Gaia, Gaia, why have you forsaken me?’ another open wound, ‘trust of the hierarchy’ ‘greater good’ ‘truth’ but there is a wrongness there too. If wholeness is my intention, then that includes the age of Pisces, and patriarchy and control. That includes work for rewards, service for reward, lack and drought and death. But it also includes receiving and nectar and sweetness and plentiful abundance. How long is the winter? Is summer only on offer if you follow the rules? Where is the point of integrity?

With this unarticulated story resting in my body I listened, or rather I heard these 4 points of wisdom from the guest speaker.

“You can only hold space for people to the depths you are prepared to go in your own grief. As you do the work within yourself, by witnessing and allowing the grace and wisdom of the body to release the armour and then the trauma, you become able and silently transmit that ability to those who are drawn to you. And then as you continue to hear your body speaking, are you prepared to witness, to observe and inquire but not fix – yourself? To allow the wisdom of your body, our ancient ways to do that work for you. Even to leave the armour in place until it is body wise to remove it for healing and witnessing in a graceful way?”

“Can you be humble enough to have the wisdom of an elder, and perhaps not achieve results because the time is not right for you, for your client? Or can you serve greatly with incredible results without recognition? Maybe even without thanks? And should you need these things, can you simply notice that this is self-work you need to address at some point, with grace?”

“Can you be so human, so extremely human in your existence, that you are divine?”

“The white man’s way of ceremony [with plant medicine] is to use it for a result, a goal, or intention, even if that goal is simply an experience. The primary ceremony is life. Can you live life as a sacred ceremony, as opposed to practicing ceremony for a while?”

Can I live life as a ceremony?

Wanting to the leave this world is not a new thing for me, I won’t say it’s a daily battle, but it is ever present. As is the drive or knowing that there is more to life than I am currently experiencing. What is new though is the knowledge that I can no longer go back. I can’t return to the society or parental prescribed normal as I have previously done. Pushing my exploration of spirituality until I break it, then jumping back into the world of traditional work until I become so dissatisfied and shrivelled inside that I explore my spirituality again, and on the circle goes. My ex-husband once asked me when would I be satisfied with my good enough career, my nice enough house, golf on Sunday and gardeners world on Friday? I ask myself the same. Why is that not enough? Why was that never enough? What is driving this inner search?

My partner now has dreams that are even bigger than mine, I sometimes think we facilitate each other in the ‘opportunity and potential’ to make a difference and live a huge life madness and that at some point, one of us needs to be sensible and ‘do the right thing’. Then as I shrink inside again, and I go back to searching for the graceful exit. It’s not financial or material (although that is included), it’s path and purpose and impact.

The last time I seriously researched taking my life, I convinced myself that I stopped because of my daughter, because of the trauma she would feel, but her beautiful heart cannot be my anchor. My own connection to my life force must be strong enough to want to stay. But really, is my disconnected self brave enough to act? And in that space, there is honesty, a rawness and a choice.

So, this time as the wheel turns again … Can I be so very human that I become divine? Can I live life itself as if it were a ceremony? In that ceremony, can I find balance and integrity between surviving, thriving and a path of impact and service? Can I choose to stay in the centred space in the middle of the chaos where there is innate peace, free from the tether of outcome?

The journey with this continues. The inner wound that encourages me to leave is quieter, but I suspect will always be there. I recently revisited my Soul Plan and was reminded about my worldly challenge and my spiritual talent, both the same energy, the two sides of the same coin. You can pop over to my website to learn more about the Soul Plan, suffice to say, all the above questions stem in part from that energetic inquiry of my soul, the question and the answer both contained within. The outcome, a continued journey, not an exit or a destination.

PS – I’ve used my own image in this post. Somehow it didn’t feel right to sit behind anything less personal xx

Sharyn-With-A-Why

To find out more about Sharyn, take a look at her profile in Practitioners Corner

In Breath and Emotions

Vulnerability

01/11/2024 1 Comment

As I sat down to write a different blogpost, I found myself frequently circling back to the theme of vulnerability. Curious about its nuances, I decided to explore synonyms for this and was surprised to find that vulnerability had only negative connotations. These included: In danger, attackable, defenseless, unsafe, exposed, wide open, helpless, at risk.

Whilst it’s undeniable that vulnerability can entail some of these elements, vulnerability also looks like strength, bravery, resilience. It looks like diving into the shadow sides of ourselves, regardless of fear or apprehension of what we might find. It looks like summoning courage and boldness.
The times I have admired someone the most, is when they have put their rawest, most vulnerable parts of themselves out there. I’ve found that my deepest and most meaningful connections or conversations with others have often stemmed from moments of shared vulnerability, leaving me feeling lighter and grateful for the exchange.

A time that I felt very vulnerable was when I decided to start going to grief support groups. Sharing how I felt – which was something I never used to do – with total strangers felt alien and scary and like the most horribly vulnerable thing in the whole world, but I was met with smiles, kindness, and people telling me they had experienced similar thoughts/feelings. This big step into vulnerability allowed me to face grief more face-on in my own life and showed me that, as scary as it is, I am able to open up and talk about what was going on for me.

Embarking on my journey to become a breathwork facilitator also stirred up feelings of vulnerability within me. It’s a declaration of my passion and commitment to something I deeply love, something I want to share with the world. Yet, in doing so, I’m laying myself bare to the possibility of criticism or rejection. It’s a daunting prospect, opening myself up to the potential for people to dismiss or disapprove of what I’m doing. But amidst the apprehension, there was always an undeniable excitement within me. I was stepping into a realm where others will resonate with and embrace my offerings, where they may enjoy attending my sessions and find value in what I have to offer. The prospect of connecting with like-minded souls, of witnessing transformations, is equally exciting as it is nerve-wracking.

So yes, diving into this new chapter of my life is a rollercoaster of emotions—exciting, nerve-wracking, and everything in between. But ultimately, it’s a leap of faith fueled by passion and a desire to share something meaningful with others. And for that, I’m ready to embrace the journey, uncertainties and all.

The times I have been witness to someone being vulnerable, I have seen it met with love, kindness, compassion, understanding, and often times it allows others to feel able to open up and share too. Of course, I am very privileged to have access to wonderful supportive people and spaces. I understand that this is not the case for everyone. There is a time and a place for vulnerability.

As a breathwork facilitator, vulnerability represents something a little bit different. Holding space for others means that you do need to be strong, regulated, and have capacity to hold other people. This is not our time for sharing, it is our time to hold space, and to listen. A great piece of advice I heard was that as facilitators we must be teaching from our scars not our wounds. Having that emotional distance between yourself and what you’re discussing. As the facilitator, the breathwork circle is not your place to offload and share, but to be there to hold the space for others.

Holding space for others requires strength, yes, but it also demands emotional resilience and a mindful approach. There’s a delicate balance between offering support and maintaining boundaries. As facilitators, we’re tasked with guiding others on their journey. It’s about creating a safe space for exploration and growth, without overshadowing the experiences of others.

So, here’s to embracing vulnerability—both as individuals and as facilitators. It can be messy, it can be uncomfortable, but the benefits can be huge. After all, it’s through vulnerability that we truly connect, heal, and thrive.

Lottie Hall. Breathwork with Lottie.

To find out more about Lottie, take a look at her profile in Practitioners Corner

In Breath and the Spirit

Led by my Father’s Breath

30/10/2024 2 Comments

I swear my father, frail and relaxed in an ICU hospital bed, was practicing breathwork before he left his body in 2017. It was the same style of breathing I am focusing on now as I train with Breathing Space to become a certified breathworks facilitator – mouth wide open, inhales pulling in precious air and exhales released with a sigh, his whole body involved in the act of breathing – even if assisted. His breathing continued this way for the longest minutes I had ever experienced well after life-support was removed.

Have you ever witnessed a human being’s final breath? That moment of ultimate release – the letting go of a life? It moved me deeply. I sensed a delicate breeze – the quiet readiness to move on, a freedom from the confines of a weary body. The experience inspired me to write a poem I titled Perfectly Unfinished, later published in Third Lane Magazine, an Indian publication that resonated with my father’s heritage and the poignancy of his passing.

In 2021, while visiting Costa Rica, I embarked on a transformative breathwork journey that I believe was guided by my father‘s spirit. Through this experience, I grasped – not merely intellectually, but in the very core of my being – how he departed from his physical form. All that remained was breath and breath-taking light.

I’ve deleted and rewritten paragraphs of this article several times describing the pulling sensation between my eyebrows, the blinding brightness of that light and the innate awareness that it is not my time to enter this loving passage – that is more life in store for me to be breathed. But really all of these words don’t seem to do the experience justice. And sometimes describing something profound almost feels contracted – as if it’s being packaged up in a tiny box rather than given room to breathe, to move freely through and around me.

Each of us has a unique human experience that influences our breathwork journeys, should we choose to undertake them. It is my heartfelt prayer that we all have the opportunity to explore such journeys in our lifetimes. One thing is clear: These are not just isolated experiences; they hold transformative potential if we trust their wisdom and keep them close to our hearts.

This, my first incredible breathwork journey, reshaped my relationship to aging and ignited my quest to explore lucid dreaming. The connection between lucid dreaming and death is well-established; over a thousand years ago, Tibetan Buddhists developed an entire science around awakening in dreams to prepare for death. They believed that if lucid dreaming was practiced enough, one could remain conscious at the moment of death and navigate the transition with awareness, evolving into the next phase of the soul’s journey.

I will forever cherish that breathwork journey with my father and the renewed perspective it granted me on life and death. It illuminated the boundless light and love awaiting us, and the freedom that comes from releasing fears of impermanence. The breath truly does guide us to let go. And to experience this before our final breath is indeed a profound grace.

As I facilitate and observe the conscious connected breathwork journeys of others, I am increasingly aware of how this practice reveals what we need to release, helping us lighten our burdens. With each session, as old stories fade, we emerge more liberated.

Zila (pronounced Z-ee-la)

To find out more about Zila, take a look at her profile in Practitioners Corner