Breathe
. . . breathing itself is a way of praise.
Much of the bad news we've had to face in this country and on the planet these past few years has left us breathless. Much of it has been about breath. The last words of Black men lying handcuffed, face down in the street echo like a mournful drone in public consciousness: "I can't breathe." Images of urban centers in Asia where pedestrians in gas masks fill sidewalks under a grey sky remind us of the particulate matter, invisible but not innocuous, that makes its way into lungs and settles there. The Amazon Rainforest, often called the "lungs of the earth," is nearing the 25% tipping point at which deforestation will have done irrecoverable damage. An old friend is living more quietly, but comfortably, without one of the lobes of her right lung. A new friend is awaiting a lung transplant. We have installed, at unsettling expense, a new home air filter, a belated response to the smoke that collects here between the Sierras and the sea when the inevitable wildfires reignite.
Most of us, at least in cultures driven by electronic media and relentless incentives to productivity are living at a pace we may well call "breathless." We breathe less deeply. Sleep apnea--stopping breathing altogether at intervals that stress the body--is widespread. And viruses unleashed into an increasingly complex "virosphere" head first for the lungs.
We came into being, we read in the Creation story, when "the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life" (Gen. 2:7). Let us, of course, read "human" for man. The last of the Psalms, a jubilant song of thanksgiving invites us to recall that original gift, along with all our fellow creatures: "Let everything that has breath praise the Lord." Praise, song, utterance are made of breath, and the Spirit that hovers over the waters is, as one hymn writer put it, the "Wind who makes all winds that blow."
The number of books about breath that have appeared over the past few years offer one indicator both of these concerns and of what hope lies in the simple practice of reclaiming--and enjoying--breathing. John Nestor's Breath: The New Science of a Lost Art spells out the consequences of poor breathing habits and the amazing restoration possible in simply changing how we inhale and exhale. Anders Olsson's Conscious Breathing makes multiple claims for the power of deep, full, breathing, among other things, a practice of receptivity and gratitude and awareness. Jennifer Tucker's Breath as Prayer opens up the literal truth of that final Psalm--that breathing itself is a way of praise.
"Breathe," I remind myself when I've gazed too long at a screen or find myself dithering over the day's competing demands. Stop. Breathe. Slow down. Breathe again. Breathe as you practice a few Qi Gong moves or hold a yoga position. Breathe as you step outside and reclaim your place under the sun. Breathe as you hold your beloved a little longer than necessary, feeling him breathe, taking in together the light and air that embrace you both and invite you into the life you share with all that has breath again and again.