Returning to the Breath

Once again I am reminded that there are times when the only thing that can be done is to return to the breath.  I try and try to find the answers in my head, but they are not there.  I look for answers in a book or on a page or in a prayer, but they do not come.  Perhaps this is because the questions I am asking are all wrong - born of an imbalanced psycho-spiritual-physiology that is disrupted and exacerbated by continuing to think it, reason it, plan it, try to "solve" it. 

When I go back to my breathing, mindfully, purposefully, it is a way of saying that this "problem" is intractable.  And acknowledging that it might not be a problem at all - it might be an imbalance of my own expression of being in the moment.  Simply put, breathing is the way I can let go of illusory problems I am 100% convinced are real.  Because I can't un-convince myself.  They feel too real for that - and the more I think on them, the more I entrench the neural pathways that convince me they are real - that they are scary - they are unsolvable and therefore terrifyingly overwhelming. 

But when I go back to my breath, I let my body and mind relax apart from the energy surrounding the story that continues to create fear or anxiety.  I let go.  It is not easy.  The stories seem to demand our recycling them in our mind's view; turning to the breath interrupts that flow.  It forces us to say that "solving" this "problem" is not the essential thing in my universe today.  It is a relinquishment of control.  And that is beyond difficult, yet it is so simple.  I just stop.  I say "I cannot bear this any more," and I begin to let it go, relax in my breathing.  I make a commitment not to fix, not to try to solve, to just put it away, to just breathe.  Maybe I need a day.  Maybe a week.  But attempting the same solutions in my head over and over again - this does not work.  Being in my body, relaxing, beginning to share with the people around me the swirl of feelings I feel - all of this works.  Letting go.  Releasing.  Surrender.  This is why I have fewer problems when I meditate - when I practice Tai Chi - when I practice yoga.  Because I am not living in my problem-creating centers.  I am living in my peace center - I am whole.  Because my breath is always just what it is.  My body's movements are always just what they are.  And even if they hurt, I am not adding to the pain through fearful thinking - obsessive thinking.

And now I will go there, rather than typing about it.  In the breath.  Letting everything go...

Walk on the grass

“The true miracle is not walking on water or walking in air, but simply walking on this earth.”

- Thich Nhat Hanh (Thay)

Yesterday as I walked across campus, I began to notice the difference in my mood depending on whether I was walking on the grass or on the cement sidewalk.  I noticed that when I walked on the grass, I felt lighter, more at peace, more present, more embracing of myself and of the moment.  When I moved from the grass to the concrete, I felt hurried, isolated, stern, almost retaliatory.  As I began to reflect, I thought how hard and unforgiving the cement is.  It does not yield, does not embrace.  There is no softness.  Then I began to reflect on how much time we spend walking on this hard, unforgiving surface we human beings have created.  So much time.  Walking on the unforgiving ground.  And I began to wonder if we are so hard because the ground we walk on is hard.  If we are so unforgiving because the ground we walk on is unforgiving.  When I walked on the grass I felt more free.  I felt grateful.  I realized how much more I need to walk on the grass - to remind me that I am embraced, accepted.

Walk on the grass.  As often as you can.  Or simply stand on it, and feel the gentle give beneath your feed.  We were not meant to live in a concrete world.  We were meant to live in a world with wind and grass and trees and oceans.  A world that wraps itself around us - contours to our bodies - to our feet - to our souls.  Not a world that slaps hard against us without relationship - a solid, unforgiving world.  Maybe the next time you notice someone who is stern, or angry, or unforgiving, you can invite them to walk on the grass with you, slowly, mindfully.  Maybe literally; maybe figuratively.  Maybe the grace of our presence can also be a soft place for people to step... forgiving, gentle, beautiful.