A Spiritus Experience with the Wisdom in My Breath and Body

Tonight feels extra sacred. A new chapter for my breath, my body and my heart. A gentle threshold I felt ready to cross. With the wisdom of 5D, holotropic, rebirthing and somatic breathwork guiding me thus far, I now wholeheartedly welcome Spiritus Breathwork into my life. It arrives as a deeply aligned and nourishing practice that resonates with the rhythm of my healing and invites me to breathe in a new frequency of connection and trust.

There is something ancient and intimate about breathing with intention. Not just taking a breath—but allowing the breath to take you somewhere.

Somewhere deep. Somewhere raw.
Somewhere wildly honest.

During the Spiritus Breath experience, I chose to let go of the need to “do it right.”
I surrendered the structure. I softened the striving.
Instead, I let my body lead.
I let my breath show me the way.
As I inhaled, I reached.
As I exhaled, I released.
Then something truly extraordinary happened—I wasn’t thinking anymore.
I was feeling.
I wasn’t controlling the breath. I was moving with it.

What began as structured breathing gently unraveled into something far more intuitive, far more embodied. 

My arms moved like waves. My spine spiraled in rhythm. My hands flowed through the space around me and then my hips joined in.

There was a subtle unlocking—like an ancient gate creaking open. A sway, a rock, a pulse. Movement that didn’t come from my mind but from a place deeper—instinctual, primal, free.

It was as though my hips remembered something before I did. A rhythm. A story. A truth once silenced now ready to rise.

With each breath, they moved more freely through circling, shifting, surrendering, swaying.

That movement, born in the base of my body, felt like a reclamation.

Of space.

Of power.

Of presence.

The breath had found its way there too—into the deep seat of feminine wisdom around my pelvis, into the memory stored in those bones, into the parts of me that once held tension, now releasing like a tide drawn back to shore

Every breath became a dance, a rhythm, a soft conversation between body and spirit.
It became less about control and more about communion.
I followed the inner pulse as a call of my own aliveness.
A sacred rhythm within me, wise, wild and so patient that was finally allowed to speak.

Through this breath-led movement, I felt my heart begin to open—not just metaphorically but viscerally.
A gentle warmth spread through my chest.
An expansive softness unfurled where I had been holding.
It wasn’t loud or dramatic. It was a quiet clarity.
Like a fog lifting from a landscape I had forgotten was there.

There were no answers, only knowing.

There was no push, only permission.
There was no effort, only ease.

There was no striving, only surrender.

There was no fixing, only feeling.
There was no resistance, only release.

There were no expectations, only embodiment.

There was no urgency, only unfolding.

There was no tension, only truth.

In that sacred surrender, I was met by a presence that had been tucked away for what felt like lifetimes.
Trust.
Trust in my body.
Trust in my breath.
Trust in the moment.
Trust in myself.

Spiritus reminded me that my breath is not just a tool for calm, clarity, coherence, connection and courage.
My breath is a sacred guide.
A bridge back home to my truth, my rhythm, my radiant wild heart.

Just before I boarded a plane and journeyed across the globe last month, I had my very first Spiritus Breathwork session. I didn’t know it at the time, but that moment became a gentle and powerful homecoming—before the adventure even began.

This first Spiritus session grounded me in the present while quietly preparing me for all that was to come.
It was a breath-led anchoring point, a sacred pause amidst the packing and planning.
As I stood on the edge of the unknown—leaving behind routines, comfort zones and familiar soil—I dropped into a space where none of that mattered.

All I needed was my breath.
That breath reminded me: no matter where I travel, I will always carry home within me.

Before my passport was stamped or my feet touched foreign ground, my breath had already taken me somewhere far deeper—into presence, into trust, into the truth that I belong to myself wherever I go.

The Spiritus session this afternoon, facilitated with such grace and care by a dear soul sister Ellen from Circle of Life with Ellen, felt like an even deeper return—a reunion not just with my breath but with a tender part of myself I had long been too afraid to meet.

Ellen, who has completed her Spiritus Breathwork Facilitator Training under the powerful guidance of the legendary Tim Morrison, holds space with a presence that speaks of lineage, integrity and embodied wisdom. There is a gentleness in her energy and a grounded strength that allows your nervous system to exhale long before the session even begins. The space she creates feels sacred, safe and spacious.

There was something different about today.
My body began moving with more ease.
My breath connected and my body dropped in more quickly.
I felt it from the very first inhale—as if my whole being whispered, I remember this.

And then I met her.
My inner child.

My breathing began to get stuck.
There was tightness in the throat, constriction in the chest, my jaw holding tension as though it were guarding something.
I stayed with it. I stayed with her. She stayed with me.

I remembered the love that lives in my heart.
The strength I have cultivated over the years.
The vast capacity I carry within.
With that knowing, something softened.

Each breath deepened.
My chest opened.
My jaw released.
All of a sudden, I was no longer resisting.
I was receiving. What moved through me wasn’t dramatic or loud.
It was tender.
It was true.

It became the gateway to a quiet reunion with feelings long kept within.
Grief I hadn’t fully acknowledged.
Longing I hadn’t dared to name.
Shame I had silently carried, believing it was mine to hold.
Love I was yet to trust myself to fully let in.
Joy that had been waiting patiently beneath the weight of it all.

Somehow, in the sacred rhythm of breath and body, Spiritus held it all.
Held me.
It didn’t ask me to choose one feeling over another.
It didn’t force resolution or rush release.
It simply offered spaciousness and safety.
A place where everything could exist at once.

Where grief and joy could sit side by side.
Where shame could be softened by compassion.
Where longing could meet love.
Where every breath whispered, you are safe to feel this.

Through the breath, I remembered there is no need to push anything away to find peace.
I can hold the entirety of my human experience—with tenderness, with courage, with breath as my guide.

Spiritus reminded me that my healing doesn’t have to be tidy to be true.
It just has to be honest and held with unconditional love.

By the time I returned to the room, tears were rolling down my cheeks—a sweet stream of release.
More tears flowed from my right eye—the side often associated with expression, outward movement and the sacred act of letting go.
It felt like a gentle, necessary release. As if something I had been quietly carrying was finally given permission to dissolve.

In many intuitive and somatic traditions, tears from each eye can carry different messages.
Right-eye tears are linked to the present moment, the external world, and what we are ready to express outwardly.
Left-eye tears tend to speak to the inner realm—emotions tied to the subconscious, ancestral lineage, soul whispers and unspoken truths.

Tears, in any form, are not weakness.
They are wisdom. They are the language of sensation, emotion and memory. They are the way of the body feeling it all.

“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues.” Washington Irving

In that moment, with breath as my anchor and movement as my guide, those right-eye tears reminded me.
I am safe to release.
Safe to be seen.
Safe to soften.

In each practice, I began inviting sound into the space—an intuitive sigh that softened my edges, a hum that vibrated through my chest, a moan that rose from somewhere ancient within me and even a few primal screams that cracked open something raw and real. Each sound felt like a truth being voiced, a frequency of emotion finally given permission to move.

I soon overcame the inner chatter—the voice that questioned, judged, or asked, “am I doing this right?” and came to remember that it doesn’t need to sound pretty or polished. It just needs to be real. Honest. Felt. Raw. Because in that rawness lives the release and in that truth lives the transformation.

The moment I let that sound move with each breath, something unlocked itself. A soft exhale became a doorway. A hum became a balm. A moan became a release. A scream became the echo of all that had waited to be heard. What started as simple sounds turned into a sacred unraveling—liberating resistance I was unaware had been quietly taking up space inside me. Each sound became a sacred exhale—liberating stuck energy, softening emotional tension and offering my nervous system a gentle reset.

What had once been trapped in silence found its way out through vibration. The sighs, the shakes, the tones were so lock more than just noise. They were truth in motion and as they moved, so did I.

Each expression carried emotion that had long been stored in the quiet corners of my body. The tears, the trembles, the tones—they all became medicine. Not to fix, but to feel. Not to perform, but to free. In that space of safe expression, healing happened—not all at once, but breath by breath.

My nervous system responded with gratitude.

It was as if the sound gave my body permission to exhale what words never could. In that rawness, healing happened—not through effort but through expression. Each sound became an offering to my own becoming.
Not to fix. Not to perform. Just to feel.

In that feeling, something softened.

Something shifted.

Something returned.

There is a power in being heard, even if only by yourself.
A vibration of truth that the body understands before the mind can make sense of it.

There is a pure kind of alchemy that happens when breath meets movement.
When your body becomes the brush and your breath becomes the paint.
Each wave of motion adding texture to the canvas of healing.
No choreography is needed—only the rhythm of your heart and soul as it opens and rises.

I let my spine move like a story.
My hands like messengers.
My voice like medicine.

Through it all, I was met with this overwhelming feeling of freedom. The kind that doesn’t come from escaping your life, but from re-entering it as your whole self.

When I opened my eyes today, there was a feeling I struggled to name. I wasn’t just lighter. I was clearer—like fog had lifted from somewhere deep within. More anchored in my body, more steady in my heart and more available to life as it is, not as I wish it to be.

I felt present, open and willing to meet the moment with softness rather than resistance. There was a sense of space inside me, like something had shifted to make room for joy, for truth, for breath.

Spiritus isn’t just about breath.
It’s about remembrance.
Remembrance of what is sacred. Of what is possible. Of what is already here.

Today I remembered that I am always allowed to feel. To express.
To release.
To begin again.

Spiritus is not just a breathwork practice—it’s a return to wholeness.
A remembrance that we are not just minds or bodies, but living, breathing ecosystems of energy, memory and magic.

I am still integrating. Still unfolding. I know the breath is the beginning of everything.
Each time I return to it, I come back more alive, more aligned, more me.

Thank you El from the depths of my heart.

Thank you for creating a space that felt sacred, spacious and deeply held. For offering a sanctuary where breath, feeling and becoming could unfold freely. For the sacred way you made room for all of me to exist—without judgment, without rush, exactly as I am.

Your presence is medicine.
Your knowledge is embodied.
Your passion is felt in every breath you share and the wisdom you speak.
You remind us that healing isn’t about force—it’s about feeling safe enough to soften.

As I integrate everything this session stirred, I can feel it—a gentle hum beneath the surface, a renewed clarity in my hears and a softness in how I move through and with the world.

A new life force has been ignited within me—one that flows with ease, pulses with passion and invites me to live from a place of deeper truth and presence.

Living and loving is no longer about pushing. It’s about allowing. Trusting. Becoming.

Curious to see where the breath might take you?
Follow the call of your hear as you click here to connect with Ellen and step into the wild and sacred rhythm of your breath.