I walked into Trove Wellbeing’s studio studio straight from the SHARP office, not entirely sure what I’d signed up for. The program was called “Meet Your Higher Self: A Journey into the Subconscious,” designed and led by hypnotherapist and mindset coach, Olena Gisys and, on this occasion, hosted in Trove’s downtown Toronto location. I’d heard of Trove from a few friends — all high-octane professionals who’d relied on the “urban sanctuary” to realign themselves through various programs once or twice a month — but otherwise, I was going in blind. Upon arriving at the space, dim golden light flooded the room and, large, fluffy couches lined each wall. After a few introductions, I realized I’d be the only one wearing pleated pants and a buttoned shirt for the session. But my typical self is a bit of a snob, so I could only assume that my “higher self” would expect a similar dress code.
If you can’t tell already, I entered the session with a healthy dose of skepticism. For most of my life, my approach to wellness could be described as “fundamental,” if you’re being generous (and “archaic,” if you’re not). Essentially, everything in my weekly routine could just as easily be pulled from a Rocky montage – I run daily, hit the gym about four times a week, eat well, sleep fine, and that’s it. Rinse. Repeat. But nowadays, I find myself in the minority. Men are evolving. From ice baths to intermittent fasting, the wellness industry has become a multi-billion dollar-business. So, when SHARP’s co-founder explained his own positive experience with Gisys’s hypnotherapy session, I thought, “Maybe it’s time to evolve.”
The moment I walked into the space, I was greeted by a pair of staff members eager to make me feel at home. I traded my leather loafers for a pair of sandals and was ushered towards a set of enormous, plush couches arranged in a circle around a burning fireplace. As I waited for our program to start, I saw others cooling down from their own experiences; some getting IV drips and vitamin treatments, others exiting their red-light therapy. Situated on Adelaide St. W, the buzz of the city melts away once you reach the front lobby, and even more so once Gisys and her fellow guide, Ashley Bryant (who led the sound bath portion of the evening), take you into the studio’s inner sanctum to meet your higher self. The studio itself is entirely serene, lit by only a few small lamps. Each person is provided a pillow to sit on and a blanket for comfort. Visually, it’s exactly the setting you’d expect for a sound bath or a meditation program, but I suppose these clichés exist for a reason.
Our instructors began our session by establishing our intentions. The class — composed of about 15 strangers — went one by one, answering a series of one-word questions:
- What is your first name?
- What is one word to describe how you’re feeling today?
- What is one word to describe your year-to-date?
- What is one word to describe what you’re hoping to get out of today?
It sounded simple, but, as I soon found out, distilling a hectic Tuesday (or a busy year) into a single word is a startlingly effective way to reframe your perspective. It also established an immediate relationship with the group; we weren’t strangers anymore. Next, Olena and Ashley served us an organic Egyptian tea traditionally used to evoke lucid dreaming. Today, though, as they explained, it’d be used for hypnotherapy.
It was this announcement that sent off the alarm in my head, telling me, “Oh David, you should have read the class description.” I had never tried therapy before (again, I’m well behind the curve), let alone hypnotherapy. But whatever fears I had quickly dissipated once Olena started the session. Really, it felt more like meditation, but more active and guided. Once we finished our tea, Olena and Ashley directed us to quietly lie down and led us through exploring our past selves, exploring childhood homes and memories. Then, they guided us through visiting our future selves. It’s odd to recount, but whether it was the tea or the serenity of the studio itself, the visions were incredibly vivid.
Afterwards, the instructors gave us a few minutes to readjust to the present. I did a double-take at my watch, shocked at how two hours had gone by in seemingly the blink of an eye. Then, as we returned to the front area and gathered around the circle of couches, the most daunting part of the session would begin. In true “mindfulness” fashion, it was time to share.
I thought about quickly trading in my flip flops, throwing back the rest of my tea, and slipping out before the rest of the group settled. Typically, I hate sharing about myself, so sharing about my “subconscious” seemed grossly out of character (plus, is there anything more boring than someone explaining their dreams?). But oddly enough, seeing the look of shared discomfort amongst the group made the final part of the session the most meaningful. One of the reasons why programs like Olena’s are so popular is that they create a framework for connection — we’d all experienced similarly personal explorations, and we all felt equally awkward recounting them. That shared vulnerability, ironically, made the space feel safer.
If you’re still hesitant, don’t worry, sharing after these sessions is ultimately optional. Olena and Ashley gave everyone the option to pass. But after the first few brave souls took the plunge, the rest of the group agreed that the journey would have felt incomplete without following suit. After an hour of hearing about everyone’s experiences in their subconscious, we said our goodbyes and ventured back out into the busyness of downtown Toronto.
In the hours following, I found myself entirely present in a way I hadn’t experienced before Gisys’ guided experience. My mind felt clear, and my body felt similar to how it feels after a good run — tired but, at the same time, lighter. That night, I experienced incredibly vivid dreams, most of which harkened back to the visions we’d experienced during the session. Would I make this part of my weekly routine (gym, run, quick trip down my subconscious for a chat with my higher self, capped off by a protein bowl)? Maybe not. But making this an annual or biannual exploration feels entirely feasible. At the very least, it opened my eyes to the wealth of wellness resources we have at our fingertips, and that maybe it’s time I diversify my approach. As for what might be the next tool in the self-care kit, I suppose only my future self knows for certain.
FEATURE PHOTO BY BRITNEY TOWNSEND, COURTESY OF TROVE WELLBEING.
