HEALING IS THE NEW NIGHTLIFE

I signed up for the breathwork session because my friend Sophie said it was the best natural high of her life.

It’s a Friday night in Williamsburg, Brooklyn—epicenter of New York’s hipster music scene, and land of the ironic dive bar—and I’m sobbing my heart and soul out in a tepee in Havemeyer Park, the location for a summer series of high-vibe healing events and workshops. Breathwork is an active pranayama meditation designed to quickly move any stagnant or heavy energy out of the body—and “a super-fast way to emotionally detox,” as Erin Telford, the facilitator, put it. What this looks like is me on my back on a blanket, pinned to the floor as if by some cosmic force, my whole body convulsing as the tears just come, and come, and come (in future breathwork scenarios, I have been known to refer to this phenomenon as a “multiple cry-gasm”).

The lights are dim, and Björk’s “Big Time Sensuality” is being pumped into the air on a cloud of sage and sweetgrass, mingling with wails, whoops, and even what sounds like hysterical laughter. By now the group, about twenty of us, have been maintaining a fairly fast three-part breath into the abdomen, up to the heart chakra, and out through the mouth for I don’t exactly know how long. In my altered state, time is an abstract concept.

My eyes are closed, and at one point, I feel my forehead being anointed with some kind of oil or tincture. Somebody places a crystal into each of my upturned palms, which have cramped up into what feel like hard little claws. In fact, the physical sensations I’m experiencing—overall tingles, a kind of underwater pressure on my limbs—are overwhelming. It’s like being on that fairground ride, when the floor drops away twenty feet in the air and somehow you remain pinned to the wall, spinning to what should be your death but what actually feels like flying.

But just as I think I might either internally combust or begin to levitate over the Williamsburg Bridge, Erin instructs us to slow down our breathing. The music becomes an ambient soundscape, and the buzzing in my bones begins to settle. By the time we’re breathing normally again, I feel a deep sense of calm begin to trickle through my body. I let out a giggle, the tears still damp on my face.

Okay, so WTF just happened? When I push myself into a seated position, it feels as though my body is made of bubbles and my head wants to float off into the cosmos. It’s also like I’m connected by a golden thread of pure love and compassion to each and every person in that tepee, and I can tell from the curious smile making its way around the circle like people doing the wave at a stadium that I’m not the only one.

Erin then invites us to begin an openhearted sharing of our experiences, which range from simple feelings of physical release, to processing deep-seated memories and realizations about ourselves and our lives that surfaced during the breathing. Some people have a hard time even articulating what went down for them, since the connection between their brain and what’s coming out of their mouth appears to have been warped. A bit like after three tequila shots, but without the slurring.

When it comes to my turn, I say something like, “Is everybody else as high as me right now?” Because every cell of my body feels buoyantly awake and full of love, which is translating into a strong desire to hug everyone and share with them the most intimate details of my emotional life. Erin explains that this is because the breathwork raises your vibration so high, your aura extends three feet out of your body in every direction.

Floating home through the streets of Williamsburg later, the street-lights seem extra bright as I take in the Friday night bar scene spilling out into the night. The sultry summer air is laced with cigarette smoke and gossip. Later, no doubt, there will be declarations of love, hysterical laughter, and tears. Followed by the inevitable morning-after questioning if any of it was real, while simultaneously popping painkillers and carb-loading to fill the emotional void the vodka left behind.


Of which, of course, I speak from many, many years’ experience.

And yes, my all natural, 100 percent organic breathwork high felt more sustainable and had a more positive impact on my life going forward than the vast majority of factory-processed substance highs I’ve experienced in my life.

An observation I most definitely do NOT make from a position of any kind of moral superiority, by the way.

What I’m not here to do is be the judge of how anyone spends their Friday nights—or any night of the week they might be seeking some kind of emotional release, a different perspective on their current situation, or a feeling of connection to others, for that matter. Rather, the simple truth I would like to share in this chapter is that my numinous journey has introduced me to oh-so-many alternative ways to experience all of the above—without the hangover. From healing circles, to Moon rituals, ceremonial dance parties, and sober raves, socializing with positive intention and conscious awareness as the focus has altered forever the way I see my social life.

I think Brooklyn yoga teacher Amanda Capobianco coined it best, when she began using #healingisthenewnightlife.

Allow me to explain . . .