My Breath

I’m getting older. At 70 years old, my knees are now more stiff and my hips are more sore, even as I roll over in my bed, slide my legs over the edge of the bed and hang them briefly there, before I lift up my body and let my legs support me from the bottom of my feet to the crown of my head. My lower back is stiff initially so I walk over to my yoga mat and lower myself down. I kneel gently, my knees slightly apart and carefully fold my body forward at my hips, extending my arms out in front of me and laying my body down in resting child’s pose until my chest rests comfortably on the floor. I can breathe easily here and the stretch seems to lengthen my whole body, even my curled legs that are tucked under me. My feet are folded back easily and my forehead rests on my mat. I rest effortlessly here allowing my body to breathe itself. I focus on my inhale, and slowly release my exhale. I am aware of my lungs.

I turn my head to the side and rest here. Then I slowly lift my head to the other side and rest again. I listen for my heart and my breath and become aware of the breathing of the earth. In my internal silence I hear the bird chorus outside my window and notice the natural rhythm of this ancient blue green globe. More ancient than I. I am only a drop in the vast ocean of the history of life on this planet. And once again I hear the breath of the earth. The sigh of the earth as it inhales and exhales and allows the breath to breathe the earth.

We live now in a pause of global proportions. As we pause, some people are succumbing to a terrible disease that literally takes their breath away. As we pause some of us are losing the means to provide for our families, to create the life that we not only desire, but certain elements of life that we need to live we cannot access or utilize. Like breath. And safe homes, healthy clean water and food, and safe relationships. Lack of violence in our homes. All essential to life. And yet not available to all. And still, the earth is breathing with more ease. The air is cleaner, the water is becoming clearer, and the animals, the birds, the sea life and plants of the earth are moving about and grazing with more security and freedom to be their natural selves. The paradox of the suffering and sickness in our midst with the beautiful renewal of our natural resources is confounding at best.

Wisdom traditions from all over the world honor the power and the symbolism of the breath. In Hebrew texts the word for Spirit and Breath are the same. In the Greek texts the words Jesus spoke for Holy Spirit-breath are the same. In Taoism the Chi or energy is carried on the breath. In Yoga and Hinduism breath is essential and carries with it the cosmic healing power of Prana. In Buddhism the mind touches the original Buddha nature through the breath. Our breath, breath itself, is the source of life.

This disease that has had the power to shut down the world, affects the breath. It is now being shown that it affects other parts of our bodies too, but it seems to be spread by the particles in our breath and it seems to attack the lungs, the source of the renewal of our breath. This disease that caused the great global pause, and renewed air and cleaner water, takes our breath away if we get ill. What a paradox. How could we ever return to industry, business and fossil fuel consumption without taking the cost to our planet, to our lives, into consideration? Can this breath stealing virus be our teacher on a grander scale? Many scientists and spiritual leaders have warned of the demise of our planet if we do nothing to stop the desecration of all the sacred spaces. And yet we continued. What are our choices now? Now that we have taken a pause to notice. What will we choose?

I continue to lie on my yoga mat, noticing my breath, feeling my breath breathe my body and sensing and feeling the earth breathe with me. It seems to me the earth is happy to be able to take such deep breaths and she sighs with delight and new growth. I slowly allow my body to lift up off the mat and gently sit back on my stiff and aging heals. I rise up, hands swooping up towards the heavens as I give thanks for this pause in my day. This holy beginning to a day in which my breath is easy and my lungs are clear. I close my eyes, and hear the cardinal, shy and beautiful, sing her spring song. The sandhill cranes cackle across the pond, and somewhere in the distance I hear the loons calling. I am grateful that I have the deep love that is freely given to us through nature, right outside my window.

My 70-year-old body feels free to move about. My morning stiffness has dissipated and my knees and hips move easily with every step. I take three more deep breaths, and slowly exhale with each one. I invite myself to pause, to notice, and to choose wisely.

Love,

Janet Elizabeth Hartwick Sterk

April 24, 2020