Poetry & Musings
by dnika
Breathwork reopened my heart to writing.
As a shy girl, I wrote often. More than I realized. One spring afternoon, I discovered two boxes that my mother kept. Old journals. Letters. Poems she saved. Crinkled pages and tucked-away notes revealed a deep need to be seen and loved. Now, I’m slowly unfolding these memories. I cry when the stories feel heavy. I laugh at the jokes. I savor the words once shared with loved ones. It’s been transformative.
But as life’s demands grew louder, my writing faded. Only the occasional musing or fleeting thought remained.
Breathwork training required me to write again. That simple practice reawakened my love for words. It reminded me how restorative writing can be. Breathwork and writing are companions now. They unlock my voice. Soothe my tears. Offer solace when speaking feels too heavy. Each breath and each word move together, weaving a quiet kind of healing that brings me home to myself.
I invite you to explore my poetry. May you find inspiration, a piece of your own story, or a new perspective to carry with you.
why i breathe
-dnika
Two years ago, I took my first intentional breath. I was yearning for solitude. I slipped into a breathwork class on a quiet Sunday afternoon.
I walked into a dimly lit room at my yoga studio. Soft music played. People arranged mats, blankets, bolsters, and eye masks. But something felt unusual. The room was filled with men. I felt like I didn’t belong. I almost walked out.
Our facilitator welcomed me with a giant smile. She pointed to spots for my mat. I wore a hoodie. I felt completely out of my element. She described breathwork’s benefits and what to be cautious about. (Hello, tetany!) She assured us, emotional releases are natural. Even encouraged. Nervous, I whispered, “What am I doing here?”
I settled in. I used my hood to cover my eyes. My hoodie gave me a sense of safety I didn’t know I needed. The music felt like a friend. It supported my rhythm and pace.
I hung on to every word. I inhaled deeply. I filled my belly. I expanded my chest. I connected to my heart. My exhale slithered out. I was surprised by the sensation of letting go. It was reassuring.
Within minutes, I heard screams and tears. All kinds of sounds. The self-expression and vocalization gave me the guts to keep going. I kept breathing. At the end, child’s pose (hoodie still on) felt grounding.
Our facilitator opened the room for sharing. I was awe-struck by the stories and depth of reflection. I still wondered what just happened. I walked out almost as confused as when I started. But for a different reason. Something subtle had shifted. I was home. I actually belonged. I cried in my car. It was a much-needed release.
The next Sunday, and many after, I returned to that room. I explored other classes. I practiced on my own.
Eventually, I discovered Breathing Space. I began a year-long training to become a certified breathwork facilitator. Now, in my second year of leadership training, I still breathe to help manage my emotions. I also love breathwork for its simplicity and power. Whether it’s five seconds, five minutes, or longer. Intentional breathing is everything.
Breathwork grants me:
~ space to feel, even when I don’t understand.
~ acceptance that my discomforts and hurts don’t define me.
~ a tool to manage ruminating thoughts and let go.
~ strength to share more deeply in community.
~ an ability to hold space for others on their breathwork journey.
~ inspiration to write poetry again.
~ better decision-making.
~ enhanced performance. Lifting weights, walking, or practicing yoga.
And so, I breathe.
Curious about breathwork? I’m here if you’d like to connect.
breathe. feel. write.
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