Ice Baths and Learning How to Breathe

To be completely honest, a meditative process that necessitates you shocking your teeth out in a tub of ice water, interestingly, that probably would not have been at the top of the bucket list. But that’s what I found myself doing on a rainy Sunday morning: the Wim Hof method — and it was absolutely amazing.The Wim Hof method is a means of connecting yourself to the world, essentially, through its pillars of breathing, cold therapy (the famed ice submerging that make headlines), and mindset. Pioneered by the very Dutch, very extreme athlete Wim, his method to boost energy, focus, sleep quality, immune systems. Again, a type of meditative medium to centre yourself, I absolutely knew none of these things going into my session.

My experience with Wim Hof began unintentionally, whilst doing a permaculture workaway in a small village tucked in the hills of Surrey. Waking up late and worried I’d get fired on my first full day there, I walked into the kitchen into an offer of a pain au chocolate and a ticket to jump into a pool of ice cold water. Very surprised and still shaking off sleep, I found myself hopping into my workaway host’s very beefy mountain-trekking car with practically no idea what I was getting myself into. I had heard of ice bathing briefly before, but like most people, have had little to no contact or understanding of the concept other than really really absurdly cold water.

It was four of us workawayers and three others, in a room spread neatly with yoga mats, a wall of floor to ceiling windows, and a back of mirrors, the word “breathe” very appropriately inscribed above. The workshop was led by a friend of our host’s, a fascinating woman in her 30s certified in Wim Hof instruction with a crazy life — the commencement of covid arriving at the tail of her being at a 1-month long breathing festival in Mexico.

We started with a few warm-up games that very wholesomely reminded me of games we used to play in drama class. Like very hairless waddling apes, we rotated in stealing tennis balls from each other and sumo squatting to try and tap each other’s outer thighs because that’s definitely what adults do with their Sunday mornings. It was all very silly and physical and surprisingly effective in getting the eight of us all comfortable with each other — finding moments of physical and communicative connection, basically — which still feels so illegal coming out two meters-apart corona life. Throughout our workshop we had scattered laughings of “we’re totally not a cult”…”eh, maybe we are a cult” and how this was prime walking in-on and confusion of dog walker-activity.

We began with a mini science and brain things lesson — which was such a refresher on my very sparsely used AP Psychology knowledge. We were walked through basic concepts on how the sympathetic systems and parasympathetic nervous systems, fight/flight and resting modes, respectively, function and how intentional breathing can shift you between these states.

Of course, afterwards, it was time to put these techniques to the test. Following a series of squiggles that would be our breath patterns and our instructor’s voice, we put ourselves into resting positions and, eventually, with blankets, because it would get us really cold, and breathed. Using the Wim Hof technique, we breathed ourselves into heightened awareness and then dropped it all the way down, before cycling back to the beginning. It was kind of surreal and calming, with music to set the ambience of blanket-swaddled mounds. To be completely honest, I fell asleep — I remember starting to lose track of my breathing and getting really cold and a bit tingly — and then starting to think of grass and butterflies. I was woken up quite embarrassed, being knocked out by the deep breathing, but laughed it off with the others and had some pre-ice bath sticky honey-sweet dates and cherries.

Before we entered the icy waters, our instructor offered us one last thing: a metaphorical bar of shower soap. It should be something to hold onto while in the ice bath — and hold onto firmly — because it’d be very difficult to pick up once you’re in the shower. Like an anchor, each of us were asked to find something we valued this past year and would like to cultivate. I chose the comfort and gratitude of my new friendships — basically a reason for doing this ice bath and, essentially, to not freak out and question why the fuck we’re submerging ourselves in excruciating pain. She asked us to think about how we wanted to feel in the ice — definitely a form of manifestation — a reason for doing this ice bath. Our deep focusing we began in breathing was carried over through this soap bar.

And then… we bathed in ice cold water. It was actually very funny: we walked out to a blue plastic — though lethally ice water filled — thing that resembled a very large laundry hamper. I’m not sure what I was expecting; a jacuzzi-style freezer where we sat together and chatted, chattering, with cocktails in hand did come to mind for a brief second. It was absolutely hilarious, though, watching us grown men and women tuck ourselves into the little pouch. Clamouring in one at a time, everyone, as we spoke about it afterwards, took it quite well outwardly — no apparent screams of distress — but inwardly, experienced so many different emotions for the each of us. I held my bar of soap stepping in to the ice and immediately a sense of nervousness set into me. It’s nothing you can prepare yourself for — and I absolutely clung to my centre of comfort. I don’t think I expected the immobility of the coldness; as someone who’s outlet is fidgeting, on hindsight, that’s probably where the panic rolled on in.

It became very much effort holding that focus. At one point my instructor asked me, “What’s going on?” and just a very sudden moment of vulnerability swept over me because honestly, I knew exactly what, and that was scary.

After the two very long, quite difficult, and very unexpected minutes of chilling in the pool, each of us resurfaced to warm and dry ground and proceeded to horse dance in a circle to lively Spanish music to bring our body temperatures up — just cult things.

At the end of the session, over herbal teas and chocolate (they say you make lifelong friends over chocolate) we shared breaths together. Personally, I’ve grown up horrid at holding eye contact — even now, long periods I have to fight to not flit away or start fidgeting — but these few instances were completely steady and very sweet. It felt appreciative; we could feel ourselves thanking each other after each breathing together. When you breathe with another person and feel what they feel, and expose yourself for those few seconds, it becomes just a little bit beautiful.

After saying our goodbyes, we left absolutely ravenous. It was definitely an entire excursion; who knew breathing and baths would be so much effort? There were so many fascinating bits we were given throughout the workshop that will definitely stay with me for a while. We played with the concept that our eyes are literally a part of our brains, just squeezed out two tubes; inviting to find power in that.

We gave our bodies a chance to do the work — adjusting to cold, then readjusting to warmth — because it can. So often we’re not letting these natural processes happen — and that’s where a lot of stress and ailment come in. Tapping into those late night cups of tea with my flatmates, and consequently feeling really warm inside, was powerful in that extreme setting in, along with our blood rushing to our vital organs, keeping us warm. My experience with ice bathing revelatory in the sense that I lost grasp and regained surprising bits of connection — that’s what I would say is the biggest thing I got out of Wim Hof.

I would definitely, definitely recommend anyone even a little bit intrigued by the Wim Hof method to go for a workshop if they have the opportunity to. You come out of it so calm but also very zoned in, and just might learn something about your insides. Remember, as goes the classic Wim motto “Breathe, motherfuckers!”