Our minds run on patterns. Habits and mental shortcuts keep us efficient, but the brain circuits that generate them have a darker side. Left unchecked, those same loops can trap us in rumination, chronic stress cycles, and stale perspectives.
And modern life only tightens the trap. For most of history, people were jolted out of their grooves by extremes — hunger, physical exhaustion, nights exposed to the elements, even ritual ordeals. Today, we’re insulated from those shocks. Instead, we drown in chronic, low-grade stressors: inboxes, traffic, deadlines. The result is stagnation. Our thought patterns grow rigid, and inner chatter takes over.
This is where breathwork enters the picture. At its broadest, breathwork is the deliberate act of harnessing the breath to reshape physiology, focus the mind, and expand consciousness. Some forms of breathwork are gentle, helping with sleep. Others deliberately push physiology to its limits. Circular breathwork belongs to this latter category: rapid, unbroken breathing that alters carbon dioxide levels and triggers profound altered states of consciousness.
By stressing the body in this controlled way, circular breathwork may recreate the kinds of adaptive shocks that our ancestors once faced. And in doing so, it may just crack open the very patterns that keep the mind locked on repeat.
The Brain’s Autopilot: The Default Mode Network
Neuroscience has a name for the autopilot system that underlies rigid thinking: the default mode network (DMN). Sometimes called a “task-negative” network, it activates when our attention drifts inward — during self-talk, mental time travel, or daydreaming. It underpins our sense of self, our ability to take the perspective of others, even our moral reasoning.
But the same network that makes us human can also trap us. It recycles old stories, old fears. The voice in your head that won’t shut up? That’s the DMN on repeat. In this respect, it’s both anchor and cage [1].
Faced with this inner loop, our instinct is to clamp down on thought, force focus, push the noise away. But psychiatrist Stanislav Grof suggested the opposite: sometimes healing begins when control slips. Psychedelics have been shown to open such windows, but access is limited and legality remains thorny.
In the 1970s, after prohibition cut research short, Grof and his wife Christina developed Holotropic Breathwork: continuous, rapid breathing meant to mimic the destabilizing power of psychedelics [2].
What began as a radical experiment in the ‘70s has since been brought into the modern neuroscience lab. In a new study, researchers set out to watch breathwork crack open consciousness in real time [3].
Inside the Breathwork Lab
Breathwork spans a spectrum, from gentle yogic practices to techniques meant to push physiology to its edge. Circular breathwork sits at that far edge. Instead of slowing down, practitioners accelerate: quick, unbroken breaths with no pause in between.
Its lever is carbon dioxide. Rapid, continuous breathing flushes CO₂ from the blood, which in turn constricts blood vessels and alters how the brain is perfused. The result isn’t calm. It’s destabilization.
And that disruption is the whole point.
In Berlin, a team of researchers set out to capture what happens when people breathe themselves into another state of mind. They recruited 61 experienced practitioners and recreated the feel of a real workshop.
But this wasn’t your typical breathwork session. Participants were split into two groups: active breathers, who drove their breath into the relentless circular rhythm, and passive controls, who simply breathed normally while the same music swelled around them. This design enabled the researcher team to separate the effect of the breathing itself from the pull of the ritual.
The lab instruments were woven right into the session. At intervals, a tap on the shoulder signaled it was time to exhale into a device measuring end-tidal CO₂, showing how far body chemistry had strayed from its usual range. At the same time, participants used a simple hand signal — one to five fingers — to mark the depth of their experience.
When Carbon Dioxide Plunges
The first signals came from the breath itself.
For active breathers, end-tidal carbon dioxide — normally a steady 36–40 mmHg — plunged to about 20 mmHg on average, with some dipping as low as 16. In clinical medicine, readings that low usually spell trouble. A CO₂ level of 20 mmHg would be flagged as a warning sign for heart or lung disease [4].
But here, the same numbers told a different story: the body being deliberately pushed out of balance.
Active breathers raised an average of 3.5 fingers on the five-point scale of altered-state depth, compared with 2.5 in controls. At their peak, they climbed above four, while controls rarely passed three.
The timing was unmistakable: as CO₂ dropped, awareness shifted.
Breathwork Compared to Psychedelics
After the session, participants filled out two gold-standard surveys: the 11-Dimensional Altered States of Consciousness scale and the Mystical Experience Questionnaire (MEQ-30).
Just look at the names. These tools weren’t designed for breathwork — they were built to chart psychedelic trips.
And that’s exactly what the results resembled.
On the MEQ-30, active breathers scored on par with volunteers given a moderate therapeutic dose of psilocybin (20–25 mg). On the 11-DASC, they matched psilocybin on several subscales. Against LSD, they ran lower but still close. Compared to MDMA, active circular breathing scored higher across nearly every measured dimension.
Which means that breathwork alone can open the door to altered states that read like those of classic psychedelics.
The Afterglow: Effects Beyond the Session
The effects didn’t fade when the music stopped. A week later, active breathers showed clear gains in mood and well-being.
And much like what we see with psychedelics, the depth of the altered state predicted the durability of its effects [6]. Those whose CO₂ plunged lowest, and whose mystical-experience scores climbed highest, reaped the strongest benefits.
That tight coupling of chemistry and consciousness set up the obvious question: how exactly does a drop in CO₂ wield such enduring power over the mind?
How Blood Gases Reshape the Brain
The study showed a clear threshold: intense altered states almost never appeared unless end-tidal CO₂ dipped below about 35 mmHg. And when it hit 20 mmHg or lower, altered states were nearly guaranteed. Once participants crossed that line, consciousness shifted — and often stayed altered even as CO₂ began to normalize.
The key lies in the brain’s control center: the frontal cortex.
When CO₂ drops during hyperventilation, cerebral blood vessels constrict, reducing blood flow within seconds. Imaging studies show the prefrontal cortex is among the most impacted regions. And as activity here dips, the brain’s usual grip on thought and emotion begins to slip [7].
Sense of time blurs, inner chatter dies down, and buried feelings break the surface. Neuroscientists call this transient hypofrontality, a temporary silencing of the brain’s command hub. It’s been proposed as the mechanism behind exercise-induced euphoria (the “runner’s high”) and more broadly as a unifying account of altered states [8].
By quieting the frontal gatekeeper, a crash in CO₂ also unsettles the default mode network — that inner autopilot. Normally, the frontal cortex helps keep that network tightly regulated. When its control weakens, the DMN loosens, top-down grip fades, and those rigid loops begin to unravel. What Grof once called cracking rigid patterns now has a modern explanation [9].
Importantly, this altered state is not the destination. Rather, it’s the rupture that creates space for reorganization.
Moments That Rewrite the Mind
Across cultures, people have stumbled into moments when ordinary consciousness cracked open. Fasting in the desert. Bearing the sting of tattoo needles. Collapsing on a battlefield. Push the body far enough, and the mind can catapult into a raw, pliable state where emotion surges and perspective shifts.
Psychologists now refer to these rare windows as pivotal mental states. They are periods when entrenched loops give way and the brain becomes unusually plastic, able to rewire itself with uncommon speed [10].
This capacity isn’t a random fluke. Evolution preserved this neurological “reset button” because in moments of crisis, clinging to rigid strategies could be fatal. Flexibility quite literally could be key for survival.
Many roads can lead there, but the common ignition point is stress. Whenever the body is thrown far from equilibrium, the brain may flip into this adaptive mode. Circular breathwork rides the same switch, leveraging the nervous system’s sensitivity to blood gases.
But as with any reset, the outcome depends on what comes next. And that’s where both the power and the risk lie.
Breath as Reset: The Promise and the Balance
The Berlin study illustrated just how powerful this reset button can be. In the span of a single session, circular breathwork dropped CO₂ to levels that would raise a cardiologist's eyebrows, pulled people into altered states that rival psychedelics, and left measurable improvements in mood weeks later.
That’s the promise of pivotal mental states: they create the opening for change. But plasticity is a double-edged sword.
A mind made more malleable can reorganize toward breakthrough — or toward breakdown. Stress can spark healing in the right context, but in the wrong one it can entrench fear and confusion.
That’s why traditions that sought these states wrapped them in ritual, and why modern facilitators emphasize controlled settings where the mind can safely loosen and reassemble in new form.
Which means if you’re drawn to explore circular breathwork, it’s best not to treat it as a casual DIY hack. Because the practice puts real stress on the body, it’s best to talk to a doctor first. And if you proceed, do so under experienced guidance.
To get a sense for what a guided session looks like, here is a short video of someone trying circular breathing with a facilitator:
And if you do want to experience it first-hand, consider engaging in a structured session through resources like Breathwork Online. You can even join via Zoom in the comfort of your own home.
With the right preparation and support, breath — something most of us take for granted — can become a tool for transformation.
References
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[2] G.W. Fincham, A. Kartar, M.V. Uthaug, B. Anderson, L. Hall, Y. Nagai, H. Critchley, A. Colasanti, Neurosci. Biobehav. Rev. 155 (2023) 105453.
[3] M.N. Havenith, M. Leidenberger, J. Brasanac, M. Corvacho, I.C. Figueiredo, L. Schwarz, M. Uthaug, S. Rakusa, M. Bernardic, L. Vasquez-Mock, S.P. Rosal, R. Carhart-Harris, S.M. Gold, H. Jungaberle, A. Jungaberle, Commun. Psychol. 3 (2025) 59.
[4] R. Arena, K.E. Sietsema, Circulation 123 (2011) 668–680.
[5] B.N. Gaynes, A.J. Rush, M.H. Trivedi, S.R. Wisniewski, D. Spencer, M. Fava, Cleve. Clin. J. Med. 75 (2008) 57–66.
[6] R.F.E. Walther, H.T. van Schie, Psychoactives 3 (2024) 411–436.
[7] S. Posse, U. Olthoff, M. Weckesser, L. Jäncke, H.W. Müller-Gärtner, S.R. Dager, AJNR Am. J. Neuroradiol. 18 (1997) 1763–1770.
[8] A. Dietrich, Psychiatry Res. 145 (2006) 79–83.
[9] J.P. Rhinewine, O.J. Williams, J. Altern. Complement. Med. 13 (2007) 771–776.
[10] A. Brouwer, R.L. Carhart-Harris, J. Psychopharmacol. 35 (2021) 319–352.

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