THE TRACES OF MY BREATH

Last night I placed myself upon my mat. Precisely like we did in class the day before. Except a folded blanket replaced the bolster. My shoulders, neck and head draped over the edge, into the earth. And I gave my breath my full attention. I watched the inhale move up my body and gently reach outward, moving into my arms, my hands, my shoulders, my neck, like the wind caressing the outreached branches of a tree. I watched it fall back down and flow toward my pelvic floor. Through my pelvic floor, out my legs, my feet, and my toes. And then once again pouring into me, filling me, flowing out, into every part of me as it moved towards my head. Like the ocean greeting the rocks. Searching for openings, crevices to explore. And then it flowed back out from me. Pulling away. And as I stayed with my breath, as I gave it my full attention, I traced wave after wave of my breath moving through me. In me. Forming an arc as it moved within. Like a pirate ship rocking back and forth over the rhythmic ocean. Swaying upward as it reached beyond my pelvic floor. Lingering for a moment above me before gently rushing down and upward, into the exhale arcing over my head. Pausing before its return. I began to feel its rhythm flow through me. Not knowing when the inhale stopped and the exhale began. I traced my breath. Or rather my breath traced me. Gently. Pulsating through me. I could see it, feel it, moving up and down, reaching into open spaces it had never explored before.

Pranayama, I had been steadily practicing for months now, but I had never given my breath my attention like this. Before. Counting it. Almost commanding it. Controlling it. Last night I gave it what it had been yearning for. I gave it the gift of my utmost attention. I gave it the joy, the ecstasy of freedom. I let it be. Allowing its true nature to reveal itself. In wave after wave after wave after wave. Crescendos overlapping diminuendos. The oceanic symphony within.

© Jackie L Hutchings

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