A wise friend once told me that, “three deep yogi breaths can help just about any situation.” Ever since the clock struck midnight (or actually, a bit before then), I’ve been turning that over in my mind.
A year of three breaths.
2 … 0 … 1 … 7
I have tried (and failed) to get a blog off the ground many times. What makes me think 2017 will be any different?
Three breaths does.
Because the concept of breathing into something is the idea that by pausing to do just the minimal act of keeping ourselves alive, we inevitably free ourselves to the possibilities of doing far more than just surviving. When we pause our worrying, our frustration, our sorrow for the span of three breaths, we can accomplish a sliver of radio silence – not pure silence, but a simple cessation of the extra, the unimportant, the overindulgent. And through that we can begin to attune ourselves to the rhythms of what exists instead of what has come from existence. And when we filter out everything additional, we suddenly realize with clarity what it is we miss. Do we miss the anxiety and panic and the thoughts of what to pick up at the store? Probably not. We instead more likely miss the feeling of the sun on our skin, so we let that back in with our first breath. Then we long for another then and another and add them one by one back into our experience of the world, but this time with purpose.
I hope to do the same on this blog. Start with silence. Start with nothing. Add back in the things that matter, one by one by one by one.
And the first thing that I sense that we miss is hope.
We are in the darkest time of the year, physically, metaphorically, sociologically. We crave the hope that sunlight brings. But instead of longing for the spring to come more quickly or the falls and summers of years past to return, consider first breathing in winter.
Breathe in the cold, crisp air.
Breathe in the smell of wood smoke.
Breathe in the rhythm of snowflakes.
Everything changes in good time.