It’s pitch dark. Sweat is dripping from every orifice of my body. I’m sitting on a slippery concrete slab in a brick hut, and I breathe in deeply as I shift around in a puddle of my own moisture. Every half hour or so, a guardián del fuego (fire keeper) comes in carrying hot volcanic stones from a nearby fire and places them in a pit in the center of the hut. Called abuelitas, these fiery rocks represent ancestral knowledge. They’re doused in medicinal water laced with copal, rosemary, basil, rue, lemongrass, and chamomile.
With each new offering of heated rocks, the medicine woman guiding this sweat ceremony welcomes their arrival with an intention in Spanish. I lose myself in the void of a black, misty, rosemary-infused haze. I wonder if this is what a fetus feels like in the womb: enveloped in darkness and surrounded by fluids, while feeling held in a container of safety and spirit.
After two hours, the medicine woman, or shamanka, guides us to kneel before the hut’s small door and thank our ancestors for the experience before exiting. I’m drenched, but not at all self-conscious. I feel like I’ve reentered the world, renewed, at peace, and grateful for my first introduction to temazcal, a traditional Mesoamerican sweat lodge and ancient purification ritual, which is meant to encourage physical, spiritual, and mental harmony to elicit a mystical “rebirth.”
Ancient purification wasn’t necessarily on my bucket list, or frankly, on my radar, in the weeks before I ended up in Sayulita, a mountainous town on Mexico’s Pacific coast. But I was looking for a comprehensive nervous system reset, which led me to this spiritual breakthrough—one of many I experienced at Rē Precision Health.
"Ancient purification wasn’t necessarily on my bucket list before I ended up in Sayulita."
My road to Rē Precision was long and bumpy. Five years ago, I was a passenger in a car accident that resulted in a second traumatic brain injury (TBI), and in an instant, I was slammed with debilitating symptoms. This happened at the tail end of three long years I’d spent recovering from a first concussion, in 2017, from an accidental kick to the jaw while helping a former friend execute a headstand for a photo. Since my TBIs, life has felt like a battle of survival, as these are complex injuries with no established medical protocol for recovery.
I’ve experienced more than 50 symptoms, including speech and full-body paralysis, intense head pressure and daily migraines, TMJ, insomnia, gut issues, anxiety, nausea, a resting heart rate of 115 for a year, heart palpitations, and chronic muscle tension. Through hard work, copious research, and rehab, I’d made significant progress in my recovery before Rē Precision, but I was still struggling with a nervous system stuck in fight-or-flight mode. This common imbalance between the sympathetic (“fight-or-flight”) and parasympathetic (“rest-and-digest”) nervous systems can lead to various physical, emotional, and cognitive symptoms, and is often experienced by folks navigating significant health issues or trauma. Put plainly, I went through my days feeling like my recovery was never-ending as more symptoms kept popping up along the way.
After years at the mercy of a medical system that is woefully inept and behind in treating brain injuries and nervous system deregulation, I knew I needed a more holistic approach. I also knew I needed to escape the brutally frigid winter in my hometown of Toronto after developing thermoregulation issues post-TBI. So, I put my keyboard-warrior skills to work. I didn’t think a specific nervous system retreat existed. And then I discovered Rē Precision. “We focus on the nervous system because we believe it’s fundamental to physical and mental well-being,” says its founder, Lucy Oliver. “It is our connection between the brain and body.”
Anyone who meets me today would never know that I struggled to walk, talk, and live after my second TBI. I’ve come a long way. But I still battle sleep issues, digestive problems, emotional reactivity, muscle tension, and anxiety. Oliver shared that her health journey started as a baby, leading to decades of chronic health issues, which is what drove her to create the program (you can complete it in five, 10, or 21 days).
Incorporating neuroscience, psychology, nutrition, functional medicine, and movement, the retreats are designed to unwind the stress response and facilitate healing that lasts. I signed up for 10 days and flew down filled with a mixture of hope and trepidation.
"The retreats are designed to unwind the stress response and facilitate healing that lasts."
Located on the south side of Sayulita on the west coast of Mexico, nestled between the Pacific Ocean and the Sierra Madre mountain range, the place is a perfect IRL jungle-gym. Each morning started with a group movement session overlooking the Sierra. I’ve done many different workouts throughout my decades of exercise, but none like these. They incorporated movements that force you to use different parts of your body and brain, such as crawling sideways like a crab and doing “Rope Flow,” which involves swinging large ropes in different patterns. Exercise is a key component of nervous system regulation, helping to promote a shift toward parasympathetic dominance.
After working out, we’d have a beautiful buffet breakfast. Like every meal, it featured a rainbow of veggies and fruit accompanied by lean protein such as fresh fish, chicken or eggs, and complex carbs. My fellow guests and I (nine of us in all) gathered around a large dining table overlooking a saltwater pool in the foreground and the Pacific Ocean in the background, and shared about how we were finding the retreat and our lives back home. As Oliver explained, meaningful connection with others provides co-regulation—a balm for isolation—and is key to nervous system recovery.
Breakfast was often followed by a workshop where attendees could learn the science and benefits of each therapy, activity, or experience we were undergoing. In our nutrition workshop, we learned about everything from how our glucose levels could affect our cortisol levels to how to eat to support a parasympathetic state. We were also given a “gut protocol,” which consisted of digestive-supportive supplements to be taken at breakfast and dinner. Digestion, the gut, and food are pivotal for nervous system regulation, in large part due to the vagus nerve, the longest cranial nerve that extends from your brain to your gut. It’s the nerve that effectively facilitates the peaceful state of “rest-and-digest.” “We deal with people who have been stuck in a sympathetic-dominant state,” says Samantha George, our movement coach. “We’re here to help them get unstuck, and digestion is a key component of that.”
Over the next 10 days, I cycled through therapies both high-tech and timeless. In a small hut nestled amid lush flora and fauna, Paola Encinas, a soft-spoken, angelic neuroscience engineer, placed a qEEG (brain scan) cap dotted with electrodes onto my head to detect over- or underactive electric activity in my brain waves. She was preparing me for neurofeedback, a methodology that helps subjects consciously control their brain waves.
Encinas analyzed the results of my scan to create a personalized neurofeedback program in the form of an audio guided meditation. Its purpose is to help my brain learn to regulate itself better and improve my cognitive function, attention span, mood, and sleep. Since my TBIs, I have struggled to quiet my brain and settle my nervous system, but after this half-hour meditation, I feel unusually calm. (I should note that this practice needs to be done 30 to 60 times to acquire long-lasting benefits.)
Another therapy literally took my breath away. During a Conscious Connected Breathing (CCB) breathwork session, I learned to inhale and exhale in a continuous, rhythmic pattern to infuse my body with oxygen and energy and help release stress, trauma, tension, and emotions. Within minutes of guided breathing accompanied by a slowly building playlist, I took off on a journey I’d never experienced before. My body was shaking as if I was crying hysterically, but I wasn’t. My arms were flailing, and at one point, I stood up in a state of altered consciousness with a deep desire to move my body—which I did, swaying to the beat of India.Arie’s “I Am Light.” Usually, I’m a rather soft-spoken, mild-mannered little lady.
"My body was shaking as if I was crying hysterically, but I wasn’t."
The rest of my days were filled with grounding treatments. I slid into deep relaxation lying on a Biomat infrared heating pad. I cold-plunged, warming my body only with my breath, stimulating the vagus nerve. Wearing a FLOWpresso compression suit, I experienced muscle compression, far infrared heat, and deep pressure, which helps to boost circulation, lymphatic drainage, and relaxation. And in between afternoon walks to the nearby beach, I met with counselors to discuss emotional release techniques I could fold into my daily life, such as meditation, breathing exercises, and expressive arts like journaling or drawing.
The temazcal ceremony was one of our last experiences—a symbolic easing of my chronic fight-or-flight state, a moment of catharsis. In the three months I’ve been home, I’ve tried to slip out of my slightly insular, post-TBI cocoon to live life as a more uninhibited me. I’m more aware of the physical sensations that signal stress, and I try to breathe into those sensations rather than letting them spiral. But perhaps more than anything, the retreat opened me up to possibility. I feel more embodied—ready to blossom freely and venture unencumbered into the world.
Written by Charmaine Noronha (@charmedtravels)