Return to Workshops
by Elizabeth Gibson
Note from Elizabeth: This article was originally published over two decades ago in the Inner Door by the Association of Holotropic Breathwork International. It describes a pivotal time for me as a facilitator of Holotropic Breathwork. I love this work and the community it has engendered even more with the passing years.
Lenny and Elizabeth Gibson are certified facilitators who have been offering workshops since 1994, with a recent interruption of two years described…
Being able to offer workshops again represents, literally, a return to wholeness for both Lenny and me. Our “retirement” was more accurately a journey to Hell: the shock of Lenny’s diagnosis of throat cancer and subsequent nightmare of treatment, followed by slow recovery. Over the two-year period while he was fighting for his life, I poured my energy into supporting him and trying to hold our family together (we have two sons, now ages 12 and 18). Luckily we were blessed with a wonderful support network, including health practitioners, family and friends, and our beloved Breathwork community. Even though our former life seemed like some distant dream and I often wondered if we would ever be able to offer workshops again, I felt supported by the web of friendships, memories, and common understanding that Holotropic Breathwork engenders.
I recall a dream from this time, in which I watched the moon slip below the horizon. The moon was broken into pieces, the pale fragments fragile and porous like thin sections of coral. The pieces of the moon were falling, sinking, and I was not sure if the sun would ever rise. All I could see on the eastern horizon was a pale, weak glimmer. Meanwhile, Lenny was describing hope as “a fire that I have to struggle to start every morning, and it keeps going out, and I have to struggle to start it again.”
The sun did rise again, and the fire of hope began to burn a little brighter. As Lenny started to recover, we picked up some of the threads of our former life. As soon as Lenny was physically able, he began to work outside, gardening and tending the land on our hillside here in Vermont. Paradoxically, as Lenny emerged from the intense phase of his crisis, I experienced a major letdown. Now that he was well enough and I no longer was required to operate in a crisis mode, I became aware of all the fear and exhaustion I had been holding at bay. I noticed that I was regressed. I was having nightmares. I often felt angry, deprived. My life seemed to have always revolved around other people’s pain.
At the local natural food store, a helpful clerk approached me, but I didn’t want to talk with anyone. I only wanted to do my errands and get home. The clerk was showing me exotic, expensive vitamins containing Chinese mushrooms known to have powerful anti-carcinogenic properties. I wanted to scream at her that I didn’t care about the vitamins, that I was sick of spending all my time on Lenny’s illness, and that I was simply trying to shop for the children and myself, maybe some “healthy junk food snacks.” I felt the precious minutes slip away as she showed me a brochure, page by page, searching for liquid vitamins because Lenny could not swallow pills anymore. Ashamed of my impatience, I tried to be pleasant and appreciative. At the earliest chance I beat a retreat, worried that in my rush I was overlooking something that might help Lenny and trying to balance that concern against the needs of everyone else in our family, trying not to allow this cancer to consume more than it must.
Clearly I had some major work to do for myself, and being able to offer workshops still remained a remote goal on the distant horizon. Many more months of recovery remained, during which Lenny continued to rebuild his physical and psychological strength. I sought help for myself, including family therapy, acupuncture, and, of course, Breathwork. But all through this long trek, we both remained committed to the workshops. Even if I had to do them without Lenny, I resolved to find a way.
Finally this spring we both felt well enough to be able to support others in the context of a workshop. And we found, of course, that we were supported as well by all the love and caring that poured forth, not only from all the participants but also from our co-facilitators, David and JoAnn Joy.
Practically speaking, we have made some changes. We offer all of our workshops at our home now and do not plan to go on the road. We have switched from one-day to two-day workshops. With this format we do only one session each day and so have the luxury of more time for Breathwork, processing and sharing, and rest. We also have a regular team of helpers to support us before, during and after the workshop.
Coming back to the workshops we understand more fully how precious these opportunities are. Yes, they are hard work for little money. Crawling around on the floor, catching phlegm and spit, aching the next day from the bodywork…Why bother? Because of the intensity and honesty of the process, the opportunity to experience the presence of spirit, and the chance to practice “therapeia” according to its ancient definition and purpose: “care of the soul.”
Finally, I have come to appreciate even more the incredible body of theory that Stan has passed on to us all. Holotropic Breathwork is not just a very powerful practice, but a practice accompanied by a very significant theoretical teaching that represents a major development of the psychodynamic theory. It is this combination of theory and practice that distinguishes HB from so many other self-help techniques and makes the work such a powerful vehicle for healing and transformation. Even as we have been unable to participate in or offer workshops, these underlying principles have sustained us.
