Every
Breath You Take
From Menletter September 2010 By Tim Baehr We
can live for a month or so without food, for a few days without water, and
for just minutes without air. Air is the only substance we put into our
bodies on a nearly continuous basis; with water, it is the only substance I
can think of that we can put into our bodies without any danger of addiction.
We may suffer fatal "withdrawal symptoms" if we're deprived of air,
but we don't become so adapted to it that we crave more and more of it (one
of the classic definitions of addiction). Air
and breathing are the source of human life and spirituality, in the Biblical
accounts of creation and in the New Testament. In the creation story most
widely known in the West, God breathed life into clay to create Adam. Jesus
talked about spirit as the breath of life; in fact, the word
"spirit" comes from a word that means "to breathe." Breathing
has a long history in the creation of meditative or altered states of mind.
Cut off too much air (hypoxia) and you can experience euphoria (along with
seizures and coma, among other nifty things). Meditation practices in yoga,
Buddhism, and other disciplines often involve paying attention to the breath,
deep breathing, or counting breaths. In holotropic breathwork and integrative breathwork,
deep and rapid breathing (under close supervision) can lead to fantastic
visions, reliving old traumas, and emotional release. Even in more mundane
settings, we can breathe a sigh of relief, take a deep breath to calm
ourselves, or pant in pain, fear, or physical exertion. The
effects of breathing in ways other than the unconscious in-and-out breathing
we do all day and night can be psychological (increasing concentration, for
instance) or physiological (lowering or increasing heart rate, for instance).
The deep and rapid breathing of holotropic breathwork can cause involuntary body motions and
temporary (and harmless) tingling or numbing of hands and face. Conscious
breathing can also be part of a spiritual practice - Zen or Yoga discipline,
or spiritual contemplation. Tonglen meditation, a
Tibetan Buddhist practice that arrived by way of India, involves breathing in
and accepting pain and suffering (usually someone else's) and breathing out
compassion and loving-kindness. This is not an attempt to heal or ease the
pain of others; rather, it is intended as a way to increase altruism and
compassion. The
common denominator in breathing exercises is air. Air has no allies or
enemies. Air suffers no attachments to the world. Air is not striving for
achievement or moaning about bad luck. Air has nothing to boast about, and nothing to be ashamed of. Air is neither bold nor shy, smart nor stupid, evil nor virtuous.
Air
just is. We
may or may not have a meditation practice, which inevitably involves some
form of conscious breathing. But we breathe all day and all night anyway.
What if we made at least some of our breaths conscious ones? We
sit at a traffic light, impatient because we're late for an appointment.
Three deep breaths can both calm us down and be a reminder not to be so
attached to life's outcomes. We've invited into our body something that
"just is." A
friend or store clerk or boss is rude to us. A deep breath can give us enough
of a pause not to respond in kind or escalate the situation. It can also be a
chance to consider that the rudeness comes from a painful place we don't know
about. So we breathe in that pain and breathe out compassion. We've invited
into our body something that "just is." We
sit in meditation and intrusive thoughts flood our minds: what to fix for
dinner, why our life is wonderful (or sucks), what to say to the boss, why
the car didn't start, how to spend the big bonus we just got, whether we'll
see that hot babe on the subway tomorrow. We notice suddenly that our
breathing has become shallow. And when we become aware of this jumble of
inner voices, we take a breath and then another and then another. We've
invited into our body something that "just is." Throughout
the day, we can occasionally take a conscious breath and remind ourselves to
"just be." ©Copyright 2010 by Tim Baehr |