🥋 Sundays with Cain – Episode 19 - A ROLL & RUMBLE Fight Co. Exclusive

Interview by “D-Man,” CTF Inmate Correspondent

The weather is changing. The sky is more gray, and a chill rides the wind. Our time with Cain runs as short as the season. Before you know it, summer will be back again, and Cain will be back home with his loved ones. Until then, I will document all I can.

Fifteen minutes till nine at night, a shirtless Cain can be found walking laps. Everyone else is bundled up and wearing jackets. He says he loves the cold and that it's not that bad. I'm sure growing up in the desert makes one appreciate a cool night more than others.

The next two weeks are going to be focused on life here in prison—highlighting some of the activities we are experiencing and telling the story of Cain's impact behind the fence. We have shared a few times how José Guzman, “AKA Junior,” has been learning from Cain, stepping up and leading the breathing class. Recently, Junior took on a bigger role by organizing a healing workshop we will feature next week.

This week, we are going to bring you a speech he wrote. Before I get to that, let me bring you to the conversation I had with Cain this week.

The Conversation

I wanted to talk to him about Junior and his speech. Before we got to that, I asked, “How was your week?”

Cain smiled. “I’ve been working all week on Halloween decorations for plumbing class.”

“How’s that going?” I asked.

“It’s actually a funny story. When I walked back to the vocational training area on Monday, the welding class had a big old metal skull with red eyes hanging over their door. It looked badass. Then I noticed Electrical had decorated their door—just not quite as cool.

Our plumbing instructor, Arias, sees me looking at the skull and says, ‘Oh yeah, there’s a competition for all the classes to decorate their doors. The competition will be judged soon. I forgot to tell you guys.’ So all the other classes had been working on their doors for a week! The only people in our shop working on ours were me and Ponce.”

He laughed. “We started on Monday, talking about what we should do. Right away, Ponce starts talking about an old movie, Ghoulies (released in 1985). Since we’re in plumbing, he’s stuck on recreating this green monster that comes out of a toilet in the movie. Our instructor printed us a picture of the scene, and we’ve spent all week trying to recreate it.”

“And how is that coming along?” I asked.

“We’re using PVC pipes attached to brackets to hold a full-sized toilet to the face of our shop door. We’re using plumber’s putty to shape and carve the monster’s face, then some green paint. Ponce is obsessed with beating welding. He’ll look up from his carving every now and then, look at me real serious, and just say, ‘We’re gonna beat ’em.’ It’s just me and him working on it, so we’ll see.”

“That’s pretty cool,” I said. “It sounds like you’re at least enjoying yourself back there. We’ll see if we can get a picture when you’re done.”

Toastmasters and “The Gavel Club”

We turned the conversation to this week’s topic. Junior had invited Cain to a group he attends called Toastmasters. This is part of Glossa Phobics, a nationwide public-speaking program. Cain was able to attend the group where Junior delivered a speech about him and the holotropic breathing class they run together.

We even have a picture of that moment. I asked Cain what it was like sitting there as Junior spoke about him—his influence and the class he’s so passionate about.

“Yeah, the speech was ten minutes long,” Cain said. “He worked really hard memorizing it. I felt so much love hearing him talk. I love that he’s getting so much healing from breathing. I was very proud of him and of the work he’s doing.

“The way I see it, this form of breathing is ancient. It’s an obligation we all have—to teach it to each other, to show the power that lies in every one of us. This kind of healing should’ve been passed down through generations, but somewhere it got lost. Humans’ healing ability comes from within, not from external forces. It starts with breathing.

“I feel like, as a society, we have a lot of catching up to do. That’s what Junior has learned and wants to share—and I love that.”

Junior’s Story

I couldn’t agree more. Junior has really stepped up to the task. I decided to let him tell his side of the story.

The drumbeat of life’s rhythm makes days turn into weeks, months, years. It’s in slowing down enough to pay attention to the song where we find peace.

So this week, we feature José Guzman—“Junior.” You may have read his earlier interview, Sundays Without Cain, when Cain went to the county jail for a few weeks. Junior is more complex than one story can capture. I plan to tell more about his wrongful incarceration in the future, but that’s for another day.

For now, I sat down with him to talk.

“Tell me about Toastmasters or Glossaphobics.”

“It’s an international group,” Junior said. “Our local chapter here at CTF is called The Gavel Club, and I’ve been in it for two years. It’s a public-speaking group to help people who are afraid or bad at speaking in public. It’s been one of my favorite classes.”

“Were you any good when you started?”

“No,” he laughed. “Two years ago, my first speech was a wreck. It was an icebreaker to introduce myself. I had no confidence and was stumbling a lot.”

“How long did it take to get comfortable?”

“I’m still working on that,” he smiled shyly.

The Speech

I asked how he picked Cain and breathing as his topic.

“I’d been trying to get some of my classmates to try holotropic breathing,” he said. “I also had project number 10 coming up in our Competent Communicator manual for Toastmasters. The goal is to persuade someone of an idea I believe in. I saw it as an opportunity to get them interested in the breathing class.”

“Did it work?” I asked.

Junior laughed. “No, but I feel close! I also wanted to express my gratitude toward Cain for being who he is.”

He explained the format: “The speech is ten minutes, all memorized—no notes. You get clapped up to the podium and down from the podium regardless of your performance. They have a bell called the ‘ahhh counter.’ Every time you say ‘ahhh’ or repeat words, you hear the bell.”

“How did you do?”

“A couple of chimes, but overall pretty good. I was content when it was said and done.”

He spent a week writing and two remembering the speech. “So no note cards,” I said. “That means you could watch the crowd as you spoke. What was Cain’s reaction?”

Junior laughed again. “He was nodding his head, smiling ear to ear, encouraging me with his expressions. I became more animated with my hands and face.”

“It sounds like you two enjoyed it,” I said. “One more question before I post your speech—what did it feel like to give it, in front of Cain?”

“It was important to me,” Junior said. “To be able to express the knowledge Cain shared with me. To show my gratitude and have him hear it—it was special. He’s had an impact on this prison, on this yard, on these inmates, and especially on me.”

Thank you, Junior, for sitting down and sharing this with us. We’ll be posting a link to your page, Justice4JoseGuzman, and bringing your story to light in a future article.

Junior’s Speech: The Air Element

Throughout my 33 years of life, I’ve concluded that you can prepare for the “what ifs” in life, yet you won’t know how or when something will happen until it does. Once it happens, you can process it and decide whether you love it or leave it.

I recently had an encounter of this nature, and I came to love it. Unconsciously, I’d been preparing for something—I didn’t know what it was or when it would come. My friend here, Cain Velasquez, played a major role in that experience, and for that I’m grateful.

Though today I’m not going to talk about how this man has grown fond in my heart, I’m going to talk about something he introduced me to—holotropic breathwork. How I became receptive to it and the impact it has had on my life, in the hope that you receive it with an open mind and heart, and might consider giving it a try.

How many of you have felt trapped? Not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually—like all the answers you were searching for were always out of reach, and the ones you did find only generated more questions. That’s how I’ve felt for the last 13 years. After being wrongfully convicted in May 2012, I became physically, emotionally, and spiritually numb.

I started asking questions: What’s the meaning of life? Why do we suffer? Why is fairness only a myth? My search for answers led me to explore ancient and modern “-isms.” I realized every one of them had their own perspectives, but something deeper called me. I turned inward, asking what my ancestors believed before colonization. That led me to Mesoamerican indigenous traditions—honoring the land, the spirit, and our connection to something greater.

For the first time, something clicked. I wasn’t just a man with a past full of mistakes. I was part of a collective—a grand universe. The choices I made carried lessons, all part of a divine plan I may never fully understand.

Then one day, the two-time UFC Heavyweight Champion, Cain Velasquez, showed up on the yard. I remember thinking, How will someone like that act here? To my surprise, the man was humble, caring, and wise—an open book willing to share his life’s lessons with anyone who asked.

One day, he was doing a holotropic session with someone, and I asked what it was. He explained it as a healing method. I was skeptical. How could breathing help heal my wounds? But “Air” is one of the four sacred elements—Earth, Fire, Water, and Air—so I decided to try.

When the time came, I lay down and began breathing as instructed. A few breaths in, I felt tingling in my hands and feet, then like I was floating. As I surrendered to the process, a burst of emotions surfaced and melted away. That day I cried. I laughed. I felt. I experienced peace for the first time in a long time. That day, I didn’t just become a believer—I became a student.

I later learned that “holotropic” comes from the Greek holos (whole) and trapein (moving toward)—meaning “moving toward wholeness through breath.” Coined by Dr. Stanislav and Christina Grof in the 1970s, the practice involves deep breathing, evocative music, and body exploration.

Dr. Grof described it as both scientific and spiritual—a bridge between psychology, consciousness research, Eastern spirituality, and native healing traditions. When we surrender to it, the holotropic state becomes a link between the material world, the body, the psyche, and the spirit.

As Teilhard de Chardin said: “We are not human beings having a spiritual experience; we are spiritual beings having a human experience.”

In the past five months, I’ve learned a lot from Cain and watched him help others through the process. I’ve seen inmates release generations of trauma and walk away lighter, sometimes for the first time in years. I even shared this practice with my mom, brother, and wife during a family visit—they too felt its power.

From that, I learned it’s not about fixing ourselves or others. It’s about remembering who we truly are—before the world got hold of us—and helping others remember too.

We are breath, energy, spirit—a part of something infinite. Don’t just breathe to survive. Breathe to transform. Go within, and maybe you’ll find the freedom and answers you’ve been searching for—ones that have always been within you.

Holotropic breathwork is a spiritual and personal experience—universal, nondenominational, and inclusive of all. If you want to quiet the voice in your head, to see what’s on the other side of silence, or get past the brick wall you’re hitting in recovery, allow the holotropic state of consciousness to help you become whole again.

Thank you for your time, and a special thank you to my friend Cain Velasquez for sharing this knowledge and giving us the opportunity to explore this life-changing experience. And remember—not all heroes wear capes. Some are sitting in prison with us today.

– José M. Guzman @Justice4JoseGuzman