Take a Moment, and Breathe

The gift of conscious breathwork

Photo by Valeriia Bugaiova on Unsplash

I’ve been thinking about my breath. Following it when it is unaware of my observation. Noticing when it shallows — noticing when it deepens.

I’ve been thinking about my breath. Coming back to it again and again. Bringing my attention — my conscious awareness to it. Listening to its wisdom: inhale… pause… exhale… pause… Feeling life, death, expression, and introspection in each phase.

The maestro of my body, my breath tempting my heart to beat rapidly or slowly, sparking my mind to flit about restlessly or settle in like a bird — exhausted by flight — into her evening nest.

Breathe deeply, until sweet air extinguishes the burn of fear in your lungs and every breath is a beautiful refusal to become anything less than infinite. —D. Antoinette Foy

Decades ago, on a brisk evening in coastal San Diego, I sat on the stoop of a second-story above-garage apartment, at my cousin’s house, watching my mother down below who was unaware of my presence. She’d left the energetic family gathering to steal a moment alone for a cigarette.

For most of my life, I’d resented her smoking. So much so, I took it up from ages sixteen to nineteen to spite her. On this night, though, I observed my mother liberated from my own messy story. I…