21/12/2025
I’ve been spending a lot of time this year wrestling with what it really means to do this work with both power and heart.
The breathwork world has exploded so fast that being “just” a facilitator doesn’t feel like it carries the same depth anymore. Everywhere I look I see the same borrowed lines, the same performances of depth without the substance beneath it.
And somewhere in the middle of all of that, I realised I’d drifted away from the kind of work I stood behind.
If you’ve been following me, you’ll know this year I stepped away from running public workshops and recently I stopped offering the hyperventilation-style classes too.
These were what built my reputation.
They were my main source of income.
They were what people knew me for.
And they were the pieces that slowly stopped feeling aligned.
Pulling away from them left me in a strange no man’s land.
Not fully in the old path, not yet clear on the new one.
And honestly… most people don’t really understand the weight of responsibility that comes with breathwork, especially in public settings.
What it stirs.
What it opens.
How deep it can run into the psyche.
There’s a potency in this work that very few people are actually equipped to hold.
This year has looked like trying something new, feeling it fall flat, stepping back, reassessing, and starting again.
Not a lot of momentum.
A lot of humility.
A lot of internal conversations that sounded like,
“Maybe I should just put all of this on pause for a while.”
And to be transparent social media has made that feeling louder.
I’m not built for the constant output, the algorithm chase, the performance of presence.
I don’t think many of us are.
But it holds the attention, so here we are, trying to navigate it without losing ourselves in it.
Still… even with the uncertainty, one thing has stayed steady: I know I’m good at what I do.
I know I care about getting this right. I know I’d rather move slower with integrity than rush with noise.
And I trust God.
I trust timing.
I trust that whatever is meant for me won’t slide past me even if the path to it looks nothing like what I imagined at the start of this year.