What if breathing was your most comforting friend?

 

How do you feel inhaling? How do you feel exhaling? Do you prefer one over the other? These are just a few of the questions I have been asking about breathing lately in my groups. I ask them to encourage everyone to be more aware of this fundamental physiological necessity in being alive -- an activity that just happens without our having to make it happen, but one that we can control. How we breathe might be one of the most critical pieces of our health and happiness, and yet how often do I hold my breath when I am doing so many activities in a given day?

I can hold my breath reading a news article, driving in traffic, or reading my email. I'm really good at it! As a child, I would see how many laps I could swim underwater before I would come up gasping for air. It was insane. Didn't anyone look at the pool and wonder where I was? That's for another email, I suppose. I can hold it in and I can hold it out. I prefer exhaling to inhaling. Exhaling feels like a relief; everything relaxes. Inhaling feels effortful, as if I am trying to fill air into a long, narrow balloon—the kind you twist into animal shapes. I prefer to be like a big, round, red balloon like the one I let go of too early in the late '70s on balloon day at school. I cried. That's for another email, too. Thank goodness there aren't balloon days anymore. The poor earth. What we did to it. Back to the breath… what are we doing to ourselves by not being aware of it? It might be just as bad as 100 kids letting balloons with notes on them into the air in pre-school in 1978.

James Nestor, a researcher who wrote a book called Breath (one many of us concurred we read almost to the end but didn’t quite get there), makes many crucial points about why our breath is so important. You don't need to read the book unless you are interested in hearing all of his adventures and experiments; instead, you can watch this short YouTube video of his that captures some of the crucial points. It is worth the 12 minutes. After that, what I want to offer to you is this inspiration: how you breathe can change how you feel in any moment. We often think we have to change our thoughts to change how we feel, but coming from the body to change how we think and feel is just as powerful, if not more powerful. The breath has this power.

If you pay attention to your breathing, it will slow down. It is hard to be aware of the details of anything when we move fast. If I follow my breath in—not just the beginning, but the whole path in and the whole path out—if I notice the transitions between the inhale and exhale, and exhale and inhale, and don't rush to get to the next one, my breathing will slow down naturally, and it will be deeper and more nourishing. And my goodness, who doesn't need to be nourished more? When we feel nourished, we approach ourselves and the world in a softer, more open way. Why cheat ourselves out of this experience because we are grasping to get to another experience? Often in my meditations I will say, “Don’t be in a hurry to get to the next breath; enjoy this one.” One breath at a time. It is all we can take. We don't have to rush it. It brings grounding, calm, and ease. It nourishes all our cells, organs, and muscles.

My invitation, not just for this week but for all day, every day, is to let your breath be a source of comfort, nourishment, grounding, and safety. When you feel yourself holding your breath, no worries—you get to exhale once you realize it! There is nothing wrong with you. We can retrain ourselves. And often we need to. We go through some pretty big things in life, and sometimes, if we have been in fight-or-flight mode for an extended period of time, it becomes a habit to breathe shallowly. It's okay if you have been doing this your whole life! It’s not the end of the story. Start now.

Meditation is a time for you to do just this, but don't stop following your breathing when the meditation ends. Follow it into your next moment and your next moment. And then start again when you drop it. It shouldn't feel effortful, but wonderful.

Wishing you a week of joyful breathing.

Warmly,
Jean

It Feels So Much Better

 

It has been many years since I watched the Winter Olympics. Something about this particular winter drew me to them. What has it brought me? Tears. Seriously. I find myself in tears.

When it happened the first time, as I watched one of the figure skaters finish their program, I was surprised at myself. But then it happened again and it keeps happening. Tears fill my eyes, and then I laugh at my own over-the-top emotion. What is this welling up of feeling? My family laughs at me. But I welcome these tears. 

There is something about seeing the intimate facial expressions of these athletes at the moment they finish their event. It is brief but unmistakable. The tremendous expressions of relief, or joy, or disappointment have been so moving and deeply needed for my soul. To see genuine, uncensored, unabashed feelings caught up close for us all to witness is a gift in these hardened times. 

In this winter segment of A Mindful Life, which just began, I chose a theme that felt a bit clunky to name: nourishing the qualities of gentleness and softness. I chose it because I know I need it and because the world is anything but that right now. The tendency, in the face of harshness, is to follow suit -- to respond to aggression, dominance, force, distrust, anger, and fear by hardening, contracting, and closing off. It makes logical sense that fight or flight mode sets in, or we shut down (freeze). It takes conscious effort to counteract that energy, but we can and that's what I am focusing on. Doing the opposite of what is coming at us.

Allowing myself to share in the undeniable feelings of these athletes, whether they are young and have years ahead to compete, or the ones who will be doing this for the last time, is such an honor and a gift. What it does is soften me. This is my invitation to all of us this winter -- to keep tuning into that which helps us to soften. That which helps us feel and connect. It might not be Olympians for you, but what softens you? What helps you feel warmth, connection, tenderness -- the joy of someone's joy, the pain of someone's pain? What helps you to move more gently through your life? 

Our nervous systems are all playing off each other. If I help myself to generate warmth and kindness I will be helping you, too. Isn't this what we need more than ever? It is so much nicer than hardening. My body knows that. It would rather exhale and let go than tighten and brace.

All day long we have opportunities to soften and open up. When we do, we receive so much more. It comes in the smallest of moments and actions and sends a different message to our brains. How I pick up an object, open a door, how I walk on the earth, how I drive my car, or put away the groceries. The tone of my voice, the way I see, the pace of my movements and my words all send a message to our own nervous systems and to everything around us. We have power over this. What an amazing thing.

I recently heard a teacher say how mindfulness is a very forgiving practice because there is always another moment. I love the simplicity of that truth. If I harden, as I will at times, I have the next moment to meet differently. Moment by moment we have opportunities and what we do affects the next moment and what we receive. In my touch, in my words, in my movements and actions, I can bring care, kindness, and warmth. I can handle things gently and it comes back to me. To meet everything with reverence.  Why wouldn't we? I know I don't when I am in a rush or when I am fearful. But isn't it exciting, isn't it a relief, to think we don't have to be hard or rough to be in this life? 

This week, may we all enjoy the endless opportunities to soften and open and to be aware of the difference so it grows in us. Remember it is a forgiving practice; there is another moment. Together we can change the energy that is here -- starting now. 

Warmly,
Jean

Working With Our Reactivity Changes What Happens Next

 

I try to be a grounding source. I prefer to not add to hysteria or speak in extremes, but I’ve got to say it. It feels like we are at some critical edge in this country and in this world. And because of that, it means that we are also at a critical edge individually.

Civilization is awash in so much distrust, anger, fear, conflict, violence, greed, and self-interest. Lawsuits, threats, riots, the dismantling of systems and alliances that humans painstakingly built to protect us, the Earth, and to keep peace, are being thrown out. Among so many leaders, the value of working together, of seeing that our wellbeing is dependent on the wellbeing of all of those around us, has been dropped. Hubris abounds. It is hard to watch what we took as steady and solid now crumbling. It’s like watching a train wreck that could have been avoided. If you feel the weight of these times, you are human. I am with you in feeling like things are not okay. And yet, this is what is. It’s not about fair or right, but our human situation doesn’t feel okay. It will change, one way or another. We have gotten here for a reason, and we have choices we can make. We can react or we can respond, and the two are very different. One is also a lot harder than the other.

In recent weeks in A Mindful Life, we have been working with non-reactivity. How to strengthen our ability to not react habitually so that we can make more empowered, mindful choices in what we think, say, and do. So much destruction, misunderstanding, and suffering comes when we react habitually—when we can’t find the space to step back, listen, sense, and feel so that we know the most beneficial way to respond. Developing that ability is hard work and not something to master. Looking to be free of reactivity isn’t the goal. If there is a truck coming at us, we want to react. But most of the time, that’s not the situation. So how do we practice non-reactivity?

I find that there are 4 components that change our habitual reactivity. They sound obvious, but they aren’t easy! When practiced regularly, they become habits we want. And habits like these I do think change the world. They change what happens next, and that is a powerful thing. I think we could all use something that reminds us that we have an impact in times when it can feel like we don’t. These 4 interconnected practices are:

~ Mindfulness Meditation (staying in the present, observing, and finding space)
~ Slowing down (in every way—words, actions, the breath, thoughts firing)
~ Being more embodied (connected to your body and what’s arising in you)
~ Being curious (when we get curious, we aren’t reactive)

They take repetition, dedication, and reminding. Especially in our world today, when each of those go against the norm. Everything comes at a fast pace. Screens and devices have taken away our ability to sense and feel and be connected to our body. We rely on apps that tell us all our metrics rather than develop an inner listening and inner guide. And when we can’t slow down and listen, we can’t get curious. When we can’t be curious, we can’t learn, understand, grow. We can’t be creative. When there is a complex situation, we need these abilities.

Knowing this is good news! We can start practicing right now.

Meditate Regularly: We practice meditating and staying in the present so that we can strengthen the muscle to not react to thoughts, feelings, and sensations as they come in. We can name what arises, and when we do, we step back from it. We create space. We do it again and again so that in our daily life, it becomes easier to do. If you aren’t meditating regularly, or you got away from it, can you recommit to yourself? (If you need help, reach out.)

Slowing Down: Everything moves fast today, but we can make the choice not to. When we slow down, we have more presence, awareness, more choice; we savor more, and we get to choose what we do. That doesn’t mean we move like a sloth; we are just more present. And when we are more present, we take in so many wonderful things that we would normally miss. Life is too short to miss out. I’ve been asking my groups if they enjoyed their shower that day. Unless you only have cold water, what’s not to enjoy in a shower? So this week, notice when you are moving, talking, driving quickly, and just see what happens if you shift gears and slow it down. How much more do you see and receive when you aren’t fast? Driving slower is especially fascinating. When the car is moving fast, we are moving fast, and our nervous system picks up on it. If we are feeling anxious, why add to it?

Being Embodied: If we are in a hurry or not present, we also can’t listen to ourselves. If I am not aware of what’s alive in me, I will respond in ways I might regret, or I won’t take care of what I am needing, which leads to more suffering. How often in the day do we know what we are feeling? We can check in with ourselves often and ask ourselves, “what am I feeling?” And, “what am I aware of in my body as I do this, or listen to this?” Being aware of ourselves gives us choice. It will inform what we do next.

Being Curious: Lastly, being curious is the opposite of being reactive. When we are curious, we are open; we want to learn and have humility; we seek understanding; we aren’t attached to outcomes or to knowing it all; we aren't judgmental. And to be curious, we need to be present, to slow down, to sense and feel (the other 3!). I had my groups call up a time when someone was truly curious about them—not to get anything from them, just pure interest in who they were. You can think about it for yourself. It is such a nice feeling and, as someone pointed out, when someone is curious about us, it sparks our curiosity. It is so true. We can all be that person. We can create that goodness and be that open. It will bring us together.

We all have the capacity to do these things if we want to.

Over the past couple of weeks, I have heard inspiring examples in my groups of the moments when people made small shifts in these areas and how profound they can be. You will have them, too. I am certain of that. All we need is micro-moments throughout the day of coming into presence, slowing down, feeling connected, and getting curious. It’s a lot more calming and peaceful, even in times like these. There will always be suffering and the conditions for joy at the same time. We can meet all these moments. We are all at a critical edge where we must choose how we want to be in the world to affect what happens next, because whether it feels like it or not, we are all affecting what happens next.

Warmly,
Jean

P.S. It's the last week to sign up for the winter session of A Mindful Life (Feb/Mar)! Some groups are full, but the Monday Zoom and Friday in person groups have some space. 

Making Space

 

Dear Friends,

As we journey through January, I am feeling a strong pull to clear away the thick web of news, events, constant self-talk, busyness. Instead I am drawn to slowing down and feeling myself simply breathe. In everything I do -- simply breathe. It is as though something in me knows there is another way to be in the world, in this time. In this season of winter, in this season of so much worldly disruption. I am being pulled toward the wonderful open feeling of space that is right here when I don't fill it. I write that and I worry it sounds too lofty or overly blissful. Or maybe it sounds disengaged from the realities of what is happening in the world. It really isn't and I am fully aware of what is going on. Much of which is more disturbing or unsettling than not. To not read more news than is necessary, to stay off of social media as much as possible, to enjoy the sound of the wintery wind, to not think of improving, but to rest in whatever this place is -- this has been my siren call in these first days of the year. I share it because embracing it feels so right and I know from experience that if I am feeling this call, most likely so are others. 

A dear friend gave me a book by Thich Nhat Hanh, one that I haven't yet read. It has short daily words of wisdom. One paragraph or two. In the past, with the overwhelm of the busyness of life, I might not have enjoyed the brevity of these passages as I am now. Just taking a line or maybe just a word from it and letting it awaken something in me feels like all I need. Choosing to let it. That is enough these days. Simplicity in a time that is far from simple.  

I stuck to my intention of removing Facebook from my phone on New Year's Eve and don't regret it. I imagine myself going more and more in that direction. Embracing more quiet. The world doesn't need my fight. At least I don't think it does. I'm not a fighter, though I know it is possible for me to be one. It is in me. What I know is that my output is more useful in other ways. It always has been.

The universe desperately needs beneficent energy. Don't you think so? To be a force of steadiness and calm? To be present and therefore, grateful? Isn't that what we need? Too Pollyanna? My critic might say so, driven by fear, but not the part of me that is more connected to the whole of life -- the part that understands impermanence, humility, connection, grace. This part of me knows how powerful it is to be able to clear some space and be present. To enjoy the simple. To stop insisting on having my way or fighting because it is not going my way. You want to go faster than me on the highway, I'll move over. "You go ahead," I say. There is plenty of space. 

What does it mean to you to allow space in your life? In your daily movements, in your interactions, in your thoughts? How does it change your experience to slow down and do just one thing? To receive just one thing?

My invitation this month is to welcome space, which often means we need to clear a space of anything extra that takes away from our experience. Remove the clutter, the extraneous, the opinions, the chatter, the improvements, the lists and just be. You'll still get what is needed done, but it is likely to be a lot more fulfilling. Simpler. Just take one thing and enjoy that one thing. Let your eyes open to enjoy what's here because there is so much that is wonderful to behold, to see, to feel.

The perfect lines in the shadow on the wall as the sunlight streams through the blinds. That is wonderful. The sun rising behind the mountain, casting a pink blaze behind the bare trees in the distance. That is wonderful. The calm voice of my meditation teacher. That is wonderful. Recalling someone's smile. That is wonderful. Can you give yourself the gift of making space to experience these things? How might you clear space so that you may be filled?

I'll close with this poem by Martha Postlethwaite:

Clearing
Do not try to save
the whole world
or do anything grandiose.
Instead, create
a clearing
in the dense forest
of your life
and wait there
patiently,
until the song
that is your life
falls into your own cupped hands
and you recognize and greet it.
Only then will you know
how to give yourself to this world
so worthy of rescue.

Warmly,
Jean