A Note on Breath

Lately I find myself holding my breath.

I first became aware of this when I was riding the Metro home from work. At the time, the country was still running, though it was not quite business as usual. DC was climbing toward the precipice of panic but had not yet shut down entirely. Most people were still reporting for work at the office and carrying on with their routines, only doing so a little bit further away from one another, awareness of our surroundings a little bit heightened.

On the Metro home from work, I found myself gasping for air. Surrounded by commuters in an enclosed space, I had unconsciously been holding my breath. This was, I guess, my respiratory system’s attempt to barricade against disease and my whole body’s effort to maintain control in an increasingly uncertain world.

Fast forward to one month later, and the situation has escalated to the point of feeling apocalyptic. Each day, more and more people are keeping more and more distance between one another. Each day, more and more people are filing for unemployment. Each day, more and more small businesses are seeking loans or closing completely. Each day, more and more people are secluded, in what once seemed like an abundance of caution and is now mandated by medical necessity. Each day, more and more people – those who can afford to – are having their groceries delivered rather than venturing out. Each day, more and more people are running out of toilet paper. Each day, more and more people are running out of face masks. Each day, more and more people are running out of ventilators. Each day, more and more people are running out of air.

Breath, then, is a gift. So when you feel safe, breathe big. When you’re by yourself in your home or outside in a wide open space, sip deep gulps of air and let oxygen flow throughout your body, especially to the places that need it the most – the places that carry the most tension, that are deprived of oxygen as you shorten your breath or hold it completely, as you try to protect yourself. Your shoulders – let them relax. Your chest – let it expand. Your belly – let it rise and fall and rise again. Breathe into your joints, into your hips, into your fingers and your toes and the places where you’re tense. Breathe because you can. Breathe because, in the act of shortening your breath or holding it completely, you’re doing your body and your mind a disservice. Breathe because, when the world feels uncertain, this is what you have control over: your breath – your peace in the present moment – you’re safe.

We’re all holding our breath. Our world is anxious. As we contemplate our lack of control, our insecurity, our mortality, we wait. We hold our breath. We take in news and hold it within us. We carry it with us, and it’s heavy, and we grieve. We worry.

When we can, let’s set some of that worry aside. When we can, because we can, let’s breathe.

Disclaimer:

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those solely of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views and opinions of the Center for Pastoral Counseling of Virginia.