I lived almost 57 years on this planet without a tattoo. One week ago, that changed. I had never really been opposed to getting one… but never found the “thing” I wanted or where I would want it. I was scrolling on Facebook and came across the Sanskrit image for “Breathe” and I was struck by how beautiful it was and how absolutely perfect it would be placed on my upper back. My decision was instantaneous. My friend who just-so-happens to be a tattoo artist wandered into my day soon after and we set the appointment. The artwork took just over 10 minutes and now it’s permanent. It’s strange that I will only ever see it reflected in a mirror but, also, how much I love it. I have had several friends comment that they never expected me to get one, and I fully agreed! It’s not something I really planned and fussed over. When you know, you know.

There are so many levels of appreciation for the word and for this symbol. Maybe the earliest is something my first boyfriend taught me. I was a young 15 and not particularly blessed in running style or technique. He was a football player, a trackster and *apparently* quite fast. It’s possible I was lamenting “not being able to run” and he said “you’re breathing wrong!” I didn’t know it was possible to breathe incorrectly. Didn’t your body just do that for you? Well, for the most part, yes. However, he introduced a method of two short inhales (like a sharp sniff) through the nose followed by a longer exhale out the mouth in cadence to your footfalls. Well, I cannot say it helped me to be any faster, but it did make jogging more comfortable. And, as I now know, lengthening your exhale helps reduce anxiety by activating the parasympathetic nervous system. So, that was a win! I guess I just continued to breathe for a number of years after that without incident. Until I didn’t. Around the age of 24, after a particularly stressful period of home and life transitions, I was diagnosed with adult onset asthma. I had never taken any medication routinely and was not a fan of the inhaled steroids or the adrenaline spiking effects of the treatments. However, the desire to breathe was bigger than my objections so I did comply and, rely to some extent, on those substances for the next 20 years. During these 2 decades, I had several episodes that made me most grateful for the freedom in my lungs to breathe in a full and complete breath, without restriction or wheezing. I had certainly taken it for granted previously, but never again! It was during my 30’s that I discovered yoga and the power of the breath, introduced to me by my dear friend, Kathy. In her classes we practiced not only asana (postures) but also pranayama (breath). It was incredible the amount of focus the ancients placed upon this simple, seemingly automatic body process. She introduced alternate nostril breathing, breathing meditations, and I learned to link movement with my breath. There was a whole world of knowledge out there concerned with how to breathe! Years later, I read (then reread) James Nestor’s book “Breath” and applied some of his teachings. You would not think a book on the history of breathing and research on breathwork would be very interesting but, it totally is! If you decide to NOT read this book, simply learning to nasal breathe will improve your health. I learned box breathing the Navy Seals use in high stress situations to regulate their nervous systems. I was exposed to Wim Hof and cold therapy. I was reminded of Dr. Andrew Weil’s teachings of a 4-7-8 calming breath to prepare for sleep. I had practiced this years before so regularly that I can now do a couple of breaths and fall asleep quickly most nights. I have learned there is great transformative power in breath timing and technique. It can stimulate you when you are sluggish, boost your immune system and bring you closer to your true self. I honestly do not know it’s full scope, as I am still learning.
One of my all-time favorite movie scenes is from Castaway. In it, Tom Hanks’ character is talking to his friend about how he survived the years he was shipwrecked and alone. He says he just kept breathing. So simple, but so poignant. I remember sitting in the church at my sister’s funeral, my body shaking so hard and my emotions running so high I was not sure I would survive the service. All I could do was breathe. In and out. I concentrated on just breathing. It sustained me through this loss. Of course, I cried and grieved, but I had a place to go…my breath. When my dad died unexpectedly and nothing made sense anymore, I went to my breath. It wasn’t immediate and it was not pretty, but, somehow, I found it. The ability to focus on my breath is a skill that has carried me through my biggest challenges. It is something to go to when I wake in the wee hours of the morning with some over-magnified worry. I can choose any number of breathwork options, but, most often, it’s just counting my inhale and making my exhale longer by a few beats.
I have had a few experiences floating in a sensory deprivation tank where all I can hear is my heartbeat and my breathing. It feels claustrophobic to some, but I love it. It feels very “womb-like” and safe to me. It’s a really good time to be friends with your thoughts because that’s really all there is in there. I find focusing on my breath here is even more impactful. I love how you use the breath to regulate up and down. It’s also necessary to breathe correctly in another passion of mine, weight training. Once you get the breathing down, the rest is just heavy lifting. Using proper breath technique is a huge part of safely and effectively training with weights, and probably even more important for recovery.

A favorite song of mine is from Pearl Jam, Just Breathe. Willie Nelson’s cover is just as amazing. The lyrics of “I’m a lucky man, to count on both hands the ones I love”, and, “Hold you ’til I die, meet you on the other side” just slay me! It’s a hauntingly beautiful love song, celebrating both romance and friendship and the power of being in the moment together with your people to “just breathe”. I had the honor to participate in just this in Belize with my yoga buddies. We offered our shared breath to our mutual friend and yogini, Kathy, as a tribute to her in her final struggle with lung cancer.

Joy and awe are also linked to my chosen image. The times when I have laughed so hard and so deep that my breath is completely disrupted in the best possible way. When there’s no sound coming out, just pure joy! It is one of my favorite feelings in the world! The sudden intake of air when you round the corner to a vista and are consumed by beauty. The feeling of being awestruck! It’s a jolt to my system like no other. The slow release of breath and gentle calming you feel by watching an amazing sunset or sunrise. The intimate trading of air with someone you hold most dear. It’s this!

It’s the sound of my little Momma “patiently waiting” (Big Sigh). It’s the sound of my husband quietly whistling when we are together in the kitchen. It can be the sound of contentment or aggravation, depending on how quickly the breath is blown out. It’s the difference between someone saying my name to get my attention “Dee!” versus a friend I haven’t seen for a while saying “DEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!” All of these are determined by the breath. It’s a language all its own.

When I do run, nowadays, I don’t use headphones so my soundtrack is just my breathing. My cadence is “sniff, sniff, blow”; I still use it! It’s wonderfully meditative. Or horribly monotonous. It’s both at the same time. Kinda like life. Here is my symbol. I hope you find yours.