How long can this guy hold his breath?

 

I have a friend who reminds me to breathe. What surprises me is that I so often forget. Conscious breathing when I am scared or overwhelmed actually helps. In my microscopic career of taking yoga (one class when I was pregnant) the extremely perceptive instructor would invite us to breathe, precisely when I was holding it tighter than a birthday balloon. 

 

"Breathe," she would croon. I would release a gasp, making room for more air that was eager to fill my strained lungs. The pose would shift as well. I am sure it was a coincidence.  

 

Breathing is like inviting inspiration. The words, John would hasten to point out, are the same. Respiration, inspiration, even spirit all have to do with the sucking in of new life and air. I like that it is invisible, this breathing. It allows me to sustain the illusion that we do it on our own.

 

What would it be like if you could see breath? I know you can on a frosty morning in January, but what if the very oxygen had words floating in it? Suppose I was stuck with a stale idea, like life is overwhelming, and then remembered to breath it out? I could see the letters tumble out of my nose... o..v..e..r...w..h...e...l..m...i...n...g...  Then a swirl of fresh air would wind its way through my lips....a...c...c...e..p..t...a...n...c...e..... Perhaps my whole stance would shift as well.

 

"Oh dear. I am angry at John again... why does he not do what I told him?  It is so annoying when he... But wait, I can... take... a breath." I notice that I am in a better position to maneuver the blast of energy when I exhale, and inhale. It is a dyad, after all. You cannot fill your lungs without emptying them first. There is no room for acceptance to coexist with overwhelm. 

 

I think I choose acceptance.

 

 

 

Photo by Chara Odhner

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