Altitude
Holding Your Breath On Purpose
Personal Story

Holding Your Breath On Purpose

Nathan Richardson Jul 31, 2026

A family meditation habit nudged a curious question at the breakfast table: could slowed breathing and brief breath‑holds be doing a little of the same brain‑clearing and neuron‑strengthening work researchers are now testing?

TL;DR

  • Personal Element: A nightly meditation ritual with my kids and a New Scientist article at breakfast that connected two unrelated threads.
  • What It Means: Not a treatment claim — a "huh, that's not nothing" observation that ordinary breathing may brush against real neuroscience.
  • Proof or Evidence: Early research on intermittent CO2 exposure clearing tau/amyloid, and HIF-1 pathway studies on oxygen deprivation in Parkinson's models.

We meditate at night, my kids and I. It's become the thing that closes the day rather than opens it — just five or ten minutes on the floor of whoever's room, breath slowing, the day's noise settling out of the room like sediment. Short enough that it never feels like a chore.

Then in the morning, over eggs, it's the opposite ritual: coffee, breakfast, and whatever's piled up in the news overnight. At the table we pass around a printed version of the news summary I put together and publish on Archer's Daily (Substack). The kids love science news — New Scientist is a household favorite — and lately those two rituals have started talking to each other.

The article that did it was a New Scientist piece about carbon dioxide. Not oxygen — carbon dioxide. Researchers had people breathe air spiked with CO2 in short bursts, on and off, for about half an hour, and found it seemed to flush tau and amyloid — the proteins tangled up in Alzheimer's — out of the brain. Not cure it. Flush it, temporarily, like a pressure wash. The effect faded within the hour. But the mechanism was the interesting part: the CO2 pulses make blood vessels in the brain dilate and constrict, rhythmically, and that pumping action seems to drive the same fluid‑clearing system that's normally most active during deep sleep.

That sat next to something I'd already been chewing on for the Parkinson's piece — a completely different gas doing a completely different job. Oxygen deprivation, in short controlled doses, seems to strengthen neurons rather than clear debris. It flips on a pathway called HIF‑1, the same one that kicks in at altitude, and there's early research suggesting it helps preserve dopamine‑producing cells in Parkinson's models.

So: one mechanism takes out the trash. The other reinforces the wiring. Two different gases, two different jobs, both aimed at the same category of disease.

I am not a medical expert, so these are just my observations... or hopes, because this is exactly the kind of leap that makes health journalism go soft in the middle. The CO2 study I read involved a small number of people and the effect was transient. Nobody — not the researchers, not me — is claiming meditation prevents Alzheimer's or Parkinson's. What I think is fair to say is narrower and, to me, more interesting: two of the more promising experimental approaches to slowing neurodegeneration both route through mechanisms that ordinary contemplative breathing brushes up against anyway. That's not a treatment claim. It's a “huh, that's not nothing” observation, made by two teenagers and their dad over eggs.

What we're doing with it, practically, is nothing dramatic. We're not changing how we meditate. We're just newly curious about what a decades‑old evening habit might be doing underneath the parts we can feel — the calm, the closed day, the thing that makes it worth doing regardless of any of this. The science might catch up to that. It might not. Either way, we'll still be on the floor tonight.

Sources

Disclaimer

This article is for educational purposes only and is not medical advice. The studies referenced are preliminary and do not establish that meditation prevents or treats neurodegenerative disease. Always consult a qualified clinician before changing health practices.