On Breathwork
This piece is an excerpt from my journal, written in the quiet hours following a powerful somatic breathwork session — an experience that reminded me of the body’s exquisite wisdom and what can shift when the nervous system is met with patience and gentleness. It is inspired by breath, brotherhood, and a skilled guide.
Warmly,
Dr. Neal
“וּמִשָּׁם דַּיְקָא נִמְשָׁכִין גְּדוּלוֹת נִפְלָאוֹת.”
“And it is precisely from there — from that breaking — that the greatest wonders are drawn.” (Sichot HaRan 132)
We All Need a Miracle:
Inspired by breath, by brothers, by breathing open
Neal C. Goldberg, Ph.D.
We come with calloused hands
and weathered hearts,
stories etched in the folds
of our silence.
Some held their breath.
Some braced.
Some had never let themselves
feel this much
and stay.
We carry the weight
of what wasn’t said,
what was said too sharply,
or too soon,
or not at all.
But tonight …
we laid in a circle
of men
who dared to inhale
truth
and exhale
not to resist,
but to release …
holding onto nothing,
accepting everything.
Some wept.
Some screamed.
And as we laid together
in the quiet dark,
in stillness,
in reflection …
we somehow emerged
whole,
held
in the presence
of those
we do not know.
Yet something deeper held us …
a brotherhood,
a courage born from ache and longing,
from the pain we carried
through our separate lives.
Strangers,
Yes,
but not anymore.
We came together,
not to fix one another,
but to feel,
to breathe,
to witness the truth
of our scars
and not look away.
And in that shared space,
something ancient healed …
not just in one,
but in us.
We lay together …
candles lit,
music accompanying our breath,
the darkness soft,
not empty.
Wrapped in blankets
on yoga mats,
we let go,
tucked in
like souls returning
to the womb.
Held …
not by hands,
but by the quiet knowing
that we were safe
enough
to surrender.
And our guide said,
“Everyone deserves a miracle.”
And I felt it:
not as wishful hope,
but as fact.
Because what else
could explain
how brokenness
became
a birthplace?
Like kintsugi,
where the cracks are lined
not to disappear,
but to shine …
our wounds,
touched by care,
become whole
in a new way.
Because what else
but a miracle
could turn
wounds into windows,
gasps into grace,
a room of strangers
into a home?
So yes,
we all need a miracle.
Not because we’re lost,
but because
we’ve come so far.
And still …
we’re aching
for a love
that doesn’t flinch.
And that,
I believe,
is what we’re here for.
To fall apart
honestly,
and be met
not with fixing …
but with
Presence.
Because even the shattered
can shine,
when held
by the breath.
