Breathe

In general, I am a pretty private person.

I keep things close to the chest and, even when I share, I proceed with caution.

I connect easily with others and have been trusted with many confidences.

But, it is only on the very rare occasion that I share mine. 

The hitch for me is being okay with the natural flow of people who come in and out of my life. 

If I had my way, I would keep most everyone who passed through, especially those with any of my confidences in tow.

I was once in a class where the yoga instructor told us that connections take practice, and she encouraged us to use the practice to connect first with ourselves and then with others.

This is called a practice, the instructor said. If you already knew everything, there would be nothing to practice.

In yoga, breathing is the key to connecting. Breathing takes us out of our minds and into our bodies; out of the stories in our heads and into the present.

The breath helps the thoughts of yesterday and tomorrow drop away until we are left where we belong, in the moment where we are supposed to be.

We breathed through three Vinyasas. A Vinyasa is a set of three poses, and one travels through them on the breath. We inhale to a plank with the body parallel to the mat and then exhale to a low push up, or Chaturanga. We inhale our hearts up and through, Upward Facing Dog; then exhale back and through, Downward Facing Dog.

The instructor reminded us that, although our practice is personal, not to forget the others in the room. She said, Once you connect with yourself, you can connect to others.

I could hear all of us breathing on the same beat, the class synchronized on the inhales and exhales.

Breathing is an important part of yoga, and I guess that is why there is an intense connection between the physical practice and the life lessons found therein.

In that particular class, we had practiced inches from our neighbors, and the instructor encouraged us to use our breath to connect to and inspire others in the room.

She wanted us to see our fellow practitioners as pillars, saying that we live and practice in and among others and that connecting to ourselves gives us the trust to connect to others.

I am usually oblivious to those around me during my practice, but it was true that I could not help but benefit from the energy exchange of those so close by.

So, in return, I breathed. 

It is challenging to be truly connected with myself, to breathe into my life’s moments both in and out of class. For a long time, I let myself hunker down, resisting opportunities to breathe. It was a safe place to be, but there was no flow, and it did not get me anywhere but from one day to the next.

Maybe it is telling that often the instructions to inhale or exhale sometimes find me holding my breath while holding a pose!

Breathing creates space in the body and in the mind. As I inhaled and exhaled, I thought back to some recent advice where I was told to offer myself some space for life’s missed or lost connections. This space is supposed to provide a cushion of care and protect from self-blame.

On another day, I asked my instructor what else there was to learn. I had advanced through many of the poses, and I was looking for the next challenge. My practice was feeling stagnant.

For you, he said, it would be the breath.

Cinderella

Once upon a time, I believed in only good things.

I just assumed that I could anticipate what might be coming next, that it would be positive and that things, whatever they might be, would simply just fall into place.

It’s a fair assumption that I grew up pretty much thinking I would lead the life of Cinderella.

Prince Charming, and all.

Sometimes, I practice yoga at a studio where the first segment of the class is a standard flow.

For the first part of the practice, I can anticipate what might be coming next.

We reach high and tilt back; we fold our bodies and bow low.

We lift halfway and straighten our backs, and we fold again with hands to the mat.

We flow through our Vinyasa into a high plank, then to a low push up, through to an Upward Facing Dog, and back to a Downward Facing Dog.

And we step forward and do it again.

I breathe, and it comes easy.

And then the practice really begins.

We move into challenging poses, not always knowing what is next.

Some days, it comes easy, and some days it does not.

Regardless, it is always work to get through it.

Set your gaze, the instructor says as he chastises the class for looking around the room. That’s how you find your balance.    

As a Cinderella in the making, I basically breezed through the first segment of my life.

Growing up, I had a nurturing family, learning came easy and so did making friends.

I excelled in my endeavors, whether it was my studies or dancing or drawing, and my college graduation found me standing in front of my graduating class as speaker and Valedictorian.

A wedding followed, and we settled into a home with two beautiful children and our wonderful dog.

Cinderella had arrived.

This was my life’s first segment, my standard flow.

I had anticipated it all, and it came easy. 

But, like with the practice itself, what followed the initial flow were so many unanticipated challenges.

This Cinderella tried as best as she could to look ahead and set her gaze, but she could not always find her balance.

We twist our bodies into Eagle Pose, standing on one foot and wrapping up our legs at the knees and interlacing our arms at the elbows.

The instructor encourages us again to find our gaze for balance and to not resist the difficulty of the pose.

Still twisted and on one foot, I curl into as small a ball as possible.

When it gets hard, that’s when you breathe, he said. 

So, maybe I was not really Cinderella.

She had her challenges first and then lived happily ever after.

My challenges came later.

The marriage, the home, the dog. All gone.

My assumptions and expectations, challenged.

My flow, interrupted.

Me on my own with my two beautiful children.

I had no choice but to set my gaze and find my balance.

So, that is what I did for the years that followed. 

Today, my children are grown, and I have the gift of watching them support themselves and each other. 

I unwind from Eagle Pose, untangling my legs and arms, standing tall and reaching up towards the sky.

It is such a satisfying stretch, to reach high like this after having been curled up while standing on one foot.

After so many years, I have had an epiphany of sorts.

Looking back, I am surprised to realize that I had effectively twisted myself into as small a ball as possible, unknowingly protecting myself from life’s flow.

And it has been a challenge to unwind.

I am learning, though, that it can help to breathe in the face of challenge, rather than show resistance.

That, I think, is what facilitates the flow, so I can move through it.

I am thinking that maybe there can still be a happily ever after without having to be Cinderella.

Maybe the trick is to just breathe into whatever challenges arise when things get hard.

In comparison, Eagle Pose and the rest of the practice seem like a breeze.