May I Make A Suggestion? Find Your Rhythm.

When I started breathing exercises, I had a difficult time paying attention to my inhales and exhales. I kept losing my attention to my monkey mind. I had so many other things to think about, and breathing does not require my mental acumen. I told myself to focus, but the breath was not going to separate the whites from the colors in the pile on the floor or help me meet the expectations of my boss on the upcoming project deadline. But this is what everyone that I follow in the wellness community repeats again and again. “Take time to sit with your breath.” I convinced myself that my body doesn’t work that way. I am a mover and a shaker… I cannot sit still. I told myself that running, praying and stretching were good enough to center myself and breathing exercises are for Buddhists and professional yogis, besides, I didn’t have time to sit down for twenty minutes and do nothing. That was the most uncomfortable thought. The practice took me away from doing all things to doing no thing. I wasn’t raised that way. I made excuse after excuse, but I knew that there was something to sitting still and clearing my mind.

Much of my wellness journey is about surrendering, probably because the illusion of control is my safety blanket. I wondered if I could combine surrender and control by scheduling meditation time and committing to my exercise. This works for my physical exercise, so I tried it for my mental exercise. I started with sitting still for fifteen minutes every morning. Those first few weeks, I wanted to quit. I felt like it wasn’t working. I sat and focused on my breath, slowly counting to five on the inhale, slowly counting to five on the exhale. About five minutes into the session, I realized that I was planning my lunch menu, drafting a response to my team at work, and wondering what became of my fifth grade teacher who I liked so much. Then, I would begin again: 5 counts inhale, 5 counts exhale. “Is that a garbage truck outside? Did I take the garbage up? Is this a recycle week?” Again and again, the cycle continued. As I mentioned before, I am a podcast junkie. One day I heard a meditation instructor state that she takes issue with people who end sessions saying things like, “That was a good one,”or “I couldn’t focus that time.” Her perception is that there are no good or bad sessions. Meditation isn’t for the time that you are performing the practice. Dedicating a moment of stillness is the foundation for the rest of your day. That resonated with me. It did not matter that I could not clear my mind, I felt lighter during the day. When situations presented challenges, I found myself centering my emotions through my breath without thinking about it. Her comments opened up a new view and I let go of trying to force myself to clear my mind. My practice rewarded me. The time between my cluttered thoughts and my attention to my breath shortened, and my focus became sharper. I lengthened my fifteen minute meditation to thirty minutes. Sometimes, my son walks into my room in the morning, and immediately walks out. He told me that it’s weird to see me sitting in a chair with my legs folded under me and a blanket covering my body and my eyes closed. I can understand how that would seem creepy considering the extreme contrast from my usual frenetic energy that guides the household tasks and projects, but he also comments on how much I have changed and how I easily discard the energy that does not serve me.

Last week at the end of his first, one-on-one practice with his track coach, he was told that he had to finish up by running two cool down laps.

“Can I walk them?” He asked, panting.

His coach’s response was a stern and pointed, “No.”

“I can’t run. I can’t breathe.”

I tugged at his elbow and told him that I would run with him. We started out slowly. He was dragging his feet and he was woozy. After the first hundred meters, he started walking.

“I can’t do it,” he told me. “I’m going to fall.”

We walked in silence for a couple of minutes. As we rounded the bend, I said, “Ok. Look. When we hit this straightaway, we’re going to run. I don’t want to hear anything. We’re going to hit it. Do you understand?” My intent was to speak with loving support, but I could tell by his expression that I’d delivered a mama command. We started out painfully slow. At around fifty meters the heaviness returned and he began to stagger.

“Breathe. Don’t drag your feet. Listen to your feet hit the track.”

He picked up his knees enough to hear his feet slap against the synthetic rubber.

“Do you hear that? Use that beat to push yourself along.”

Each time his foot fell, he inhaled and exhaled. It was choppy, but he was moving.

We made the two laps. I pushed my breath out slowly and steadily, counting: 5 inhales/5 exhales.

Slap. Slap. Slap, like Brother Question on the drums.

I remained at his side breathing my rhythm. He picked up my beat until he fell into his own, and found the confidence to push himself through.

My son inherited a solid work ethic from both of his parents and he possesses a strong emotional intelligence of his own blessing. He will be just fine on this life journey, inhaling and exhaling through difficult times until he rediscovers his rhythm to push through. I will set the example for him as I continue my practice because it hurt me to hear my son say,

I Can’t Breathe.