Her own mortality was not top of mind when she slipped on her eyeshades and began taking heaving breaths at the October workshop, her first time trying holotropic breathwork. During the early stages of the session, which included fast-paced songs, Dr. Hurd said her “thinking brain really turned off.” As the music slowed toward the end, a mesmerizing image crystallized in her mind: Dr. Hurd saw herself lying on a nest of sticks, surrounded by her children, at the moment of her death.
Far from being alarming, the vision filled her with wonder and made her feel as if she had grasped something ineffable about death. “I don’t need to worry about what’s on the other side,” she said, describing the insight. “It could be as simple as, I’m just returning to the dirt and becoming soil, and that’s OK.”
Dr. Bayla Travis, a psychologist in Oakland, Calif., was drawn to the training because she has come to conclude that chronic pain — her specialty — is often a physical manifestation of repressed emotional trauma. In the future, she hopes to help patients confront difficult memories and emotions with the aid of psychedelics.
Dr. Travis said she had embarked on the breathwork session with low expectations because a previous workshop she had participated in had been unremarkable. She was in a cheerful mood when the recent training began, she recalled. But within minutes, Dr. Travis was overcome by a wave of heavy emotions that made her cry and shake as she tapped into what she described as a “deep, deep sorrow that wasn’t particularly about anything.”
After cycling through periods of sadness and bliss, Dr. Travis had a powerful vision as the session was winding down. She saw herself being carried by an adult. The image was deeply soothing. “I think it means I get to be comforted,” Dr. Travis said. The many tears she shed felt a bit mysterious, she added.
“It was like, Oh, this is under the surface and maybe I’ve been walking around with this not having had an opportunity to give it expression.”
