by Out of nowhere, the thought of death entered my head, and it wouldn’t leave. Shaking and breathing heavier than is acceptable in a room full of mental strangers, I opened my eyes to quell a full-blown panic attack.
Above him, nine Brahminy eagles circled above a mushroom-shaped, fairytale-like building whose thatched roof poked out from the dense green mangroves that engulfed it. Soon, the morbid rumors spread and all I could hear was the mollifying sound of water lapping against the shore of a nearby lagoon.
My first sunrise yoga session at Sen Wellness – an Ayurvedic wellness sanctuary in the Rekawa Nature Reserve on an unnamed sandbar on Sri Lanka’s southern coast – was not how I expected it to end. Ironically, I signed up to do a five-day breathing retreat to help combat my anxiety, which previous therapists told me stems from a deep-rooted fear of death.
Health anxiety has ruined my life for 15 odd years. A migraine is always a brain tumor. Lingering cough: lung cancer. Chest pain – “Someone call an ambulance; I have a heart attack”.
These irrational thoughts quickly lead to obsessive checking behaviours, reconfirmation attacks and debilitating panic – resulting in sleepless nights, and days, weeks or months of mental torture.
I’m not alone: according to a survey carried out by the Office for National Statistics in March 2023, almost a quarter of UK adults reported experiencing high levels of anxiety. It’s something that affects so many of us, and is still under-recognized and under-treated – especially among men.
So I meditate, do yoga, take medication and go to therapy. I prioritize sleep, eat well, and cut down on drinking a lot. But, after a recent life-changing diagnosis, things took a turn for the worse, so I was looking for another weapon to add to my arsenal.
Before this the breath seemed a little too woo-woo for naturally cynical northerners. But somehow Sen made it sound more accessible.
Sri Lankan-born and London-based Sam Kankanamge built the sanctuary nearly 10 years ago to offer his clients a place of healing as an extension of his Harley Street clinic – in his words, “a 45-minute consultation every few weeks can’t but go that far”.
When I arrived, I was far from relaxed after a two-hour bus ride from Ahangama (bright mural painting, disco lights and blaring music), then half an hour of bumpy tuk-tuk from Tangalle. I was greeted first by a single frangipani tree in the middle of a circular pond covered in water lilies, then by Frances, a barefoot Australian woman with thick curly hair, armed with a coconut and a genuine smile.
She began to show me around the sanctuary, which sits between a sprawling lagoon and a long, wild, deserted beach. There are several outhouses and a large circular main structure with prayer flags, hand-painted Buddhist wall hangings and patterned sarongs, with tables full of books and day beds spread liberally.
In the wooden, crescent-shaped yoga shala, I admitted to Frances that I didn’t know much about breath or its benefits. “It’s basically a practice that promotes awareness and connection between breath and body,” she explained.
“It’s a tool that can help calm anxiety and, with regular practice, can recalibrate your nervous system. The best thing is that the breath is always present – it’s always with you.”
While I was on a breathwork program, there were various prescribed retreats running at the same time, all following a similar schedule, which was written on a chalkboard at reception. Herbal tea at 5.30 before a 90 minute sunrise yoga session at six; Ayurvedic treatments from 9.30; lunch at half past one, then more treatments, plus yoga and meditation.
Dinner (based on Ayurvedic principles – so no meat, wheat, sugar, dairy, processed foods, deep-fried foods or carbonated drinks) was served family-style, meaning I got to know the other guests during mealtime.
Among them were a vibrant Indian entrepreneur on a weight-loss kick, two fast-talking Australian women looking for T&T, and a charming Icelandic investor who had recently lost both his parents (his sister had visited Sen nine times). Several visitors were battling serious, long-term illnesses. Others just needed a detox.
Everyone was on a journey of some kind – self-care, relaxation, discovery or recovery. As the beautiful
Helen, a yoga teacher from Hertfordshire, told me, “Everyone seems to come to Sen at the right time.”
I was also introduced to Ayurveda for the first time. From the Sanskrit for “science of life”, this ancient Indian system of medicine is based on the idea that health and well-being depend on a healthy balance between the body, mind, spirit and environment. The aim is to promote long-term sound health, instead of fighting disease.
The belief is that each person has a unique combination of three Doshas (Vata, Pitta and Kapha). Mine had certain characteristics – a combination of Vata and Pitta – that corresponded to: forgetfulness, skin problems and anxiety.
We all underwent a long consultation with an Ayurvedic doctor. I think Dr. Udari – a warm, vivacious woman wearing a beautiful pink saree and a disarming smile – went through the usual things a family doctor asks, asking him a few less common questions, like, “Do you prefer hot or cold food?”. She then recommended treatments (massage, steam baths, acupuncture etc.).
My favorite was held in a dark room with blindfolded. The Shirodhara consisted of a therapist slowly pouring hot oil on my forehead, which felt like a form of torture but was only that. Immediately, my body relaxed, and my mind fell silent as I drifted in and out of sleep, only to be disturbed by the unfamiliar smell of something like chip fat and herbs.
Several breathing sessions resulted in similar feelings of deep relaxation, and tingling fingers and toes. Other times, my mind danced between feeling completely overwhelmed with sadness and joy. Most of the classes focused on circular breathing – basically creating a continuous flow of inhalation and exhalation using the diaphragm.
Time always slowed down. “Thirty minutes? It felt like three days.” I would say to Frances. “It’s powerful stuff,” she replied. After that, the sound would always be louder with the squirrels and monkeys carrying through the bushes and the birds barking out in the palms.
The landscape always seemed more intense – the ethereal crimson sunsets, the sublimely green mangroves, the turquoise ocean.
And gradually, I began to obey. My anxiety subsided, and my mind turned from having catastrophic thoughts to worrying about whether the resident frog would be in my toilet or hiding behind the shampoo bottle in the shower when I returned after dinner.
During my last breathing session, I thought about my own death again. But this time, it was more vivid, like an LSD trip. I saw myself saying goodbye to friends and family at a sunny villa in Spain. But this time, instead of feeling overcome with fear and panic, I felt only peace.
Adam Turner was a guest at Sen Wellness (020 7486 3371; senwellnesssanctuary.com), which offers the seven-day Breathwork and Heart Connection Program from £1,840 per person, including accommodation in the Eco Cabana.
