At retreat this weekend and coming down from a morning guided meditation on the “in breath.” The metaphors crowded into my head are too many to jot down and pursue. But they live inside, dancing for the moment.
Breath in. Taking in oxygen. Taking in the very stuff that I need to live. To keep living. Without breathing, there is not life. There was a moment when they forced my partner, David’s body to breathe and as long as they were forcing it, he was breathing. He was alive. And then, in the next moment, they asked me for permission to stop. Stop doing what was necessary for them to be doing for him to stay alive.
And I said. Now. Yes, you can stop.
I did not stop. And in the next moment, I took in a breath. A new in-breath. For a new life.
Do I allow myself to stop? Not the breathing. That is so automatic. All I can do is pause it. For moments. For long seconds. Before the urgent need to begin again begins it again.
But how often do I allow for breathing without nourishment? There are times when, if I could stand in the stillness of not breathing, I would. But this marvelous body needs breath and insists on breathing.
Breath in. Taking in life. This morning, I breath in and listen to the scripted metaphors. Nourishment. Self care. Self love. Almost, yes, truly, definition of self love.
The body insists on breath, insists on living. But so many times it is my spirit that must be open to the nourishment of each new breath. Filling my lungs with oxygen and hydrogen, filling my soul with strength to move a bit further on, filling my spirit, if spirit is willing and open, with all that I need to grow.