Deep Exhale

I don't always meditate, but when I do, I find that it helps me in significant ways.



It's been a long time since I've pursued meditation as a mode of living....that is, made time for it on a consistent basis such that it became foundational in my life. A very long time. This is unfortunate, but understandable....I just fail to carve out a station for it in my day-to-day activities. Perhaps it is that I am unwilling to commit to it because I've got more important priorities (unlikely, considering how much time I spend socializing and imbibing, etc.), or perhaps it is that I am intimidated by it. I can't precisely calculate the equation which leaves me in vapid stupors of non-reflection. The more frustrating angle, however, is that each time I *do* make time for it, it ends up being incredibly fruitful and rewarding. I have such a solid track record with it making me feel good, feel great, that I don't know why my brain refuses to make a habit of it. Maybe I feel the need to do it in a social setting, so that I don't feel so secluded during my time spent sitting. I'm sure that Portland, of all cities, has active communities who pursue awareness and presence together. Perhaps I've just slipped into a mode of being too hedonistic, and I need to consciously redirect my intentions towards the more fulfilling motions of thought~

Regardless, I sat down on my meditation cushion the other day with the intention of just staring out my floor-level single-pane window and trying to void my mind of thoughts. This, as some of you may know, is a startlingly difficult task to accomplish the first time that you sit after a long drought of meditation. Your mind rebels against you, trying to prod you towards social activities or the numbing sensations of the internet. Your body clashes with your intention as well, persistently trying to realign itself into poor postures and arched limbs. Posture may be an even bigger struggle for me personally than the thought redirection, to be honest...it's one of the things I've hoped that meditation would help me to improve (and it has, but only when I am consistent with it). A distracted mind is mildly frustrating when you cannot reign it in, but an ill-postured body causes physical pain after about five minutes....which - at least my mind - tends to treat on a higher order of attention.

I didn't have a terribly long sit; perhaps twenty minutes all said. Mental frustration, bodily fatigue, communicative distractions all in play. Near the end, however, I remembered a little technique that the Shambhala crew in Boulder taught me during one of their classes...."Breathing in, I am myself. Breathing out, I am here". It sounds nonsensical if you haven't shared in the stock of meditative frustrations, I am sure, but this little phrase has helped me immensely over the years. Most seasoned meditation initiates that you speak to (or yoga, or tai-chi; what have you) will tell you that one of the most important functions is breath. From what I gather, both in word and in practice, is that this is because focusing on your breathing gives you something simple, something rhythmic, to sharpen the blade of your mind upon. It does not involve words - which as far as voiding your mind goes, helps significantly - and it caresses your entire being, lulling you into a focused complacency (perhaps it mimics beta waves in your brain, or some such hard science). All I know is that it leaves you with purely physical responses....an inward-focus that observes the breath as it enters and exits your body, and the general path of that lifeblood as it circulates through you in between the two.

Personally, as I breathe in and out, I find it helps me greatly to focus on the aforementioned mantra...breathing in, I am myself; breathing out, I am here. When I flow over the first half in my mind, as I breathe in, it somehow delivers to me a wordless phantasmagoria of all the most significant images and notions in my life which I have come to associate with myself. Pictures swirl around my head like turning pages in a photo album, and trails of words, morals, demons, personal meanings and truths snake around the contours of my body and mind, informing and defining me in all the ways which I have become accustomed to being an isolated, self-contained consciousness. There are countless reasons why this is a powerful experience, but most prominently and forefront in my mind is that is plucks me from the amalgam of society like some sort of spiritual crane-game, focusing me on myself, both my meanings and my methods, for best and for worst.

Secondly, I exhale, reciting the second half of the guidance: breathing out, I am here. This phrase immediately grounds me....wraps up my whole from the in-breath, wordless but colorful, and plants it firmly in the ground wherever I happen to be. My roots flood outward, connecting to objects and expanses which surround me, and I feel the empowerment of being a sentient being placed in a specific time and place, with the self-capacity necessary to change all of it, any of it, if I so choose to, either by plotted plan or capricious whim. It stirs up a frenzy of appreciation for the ability to be here (there), to perceive and process everything that is going around me, and for the gift of self-agency which brought me here and continues to bring me farther still in every waking moment.

The I repeat, recycle, until clean or overly-fatigued.

These two concepts, anchored on the in-breath and the out-breath, create a powerful orbit of awakening within me, a cadence which structures my mind. When I step away from meditating, these things stick with me for a time (sometimes short, sometimes longer) and generate an intentional consciousness which is less distracted, more precise and yet more open. I do it for the perspective, I do it for the appreciation which is suddenly infused into each object, each person, each motion and feeling. I do it because it makes me feel, for a time, like the best incarnation of myself that I can possibly be.

Normally this process is incredibly frustrating the first few times that I sit down to do it after being away from any semblance of a routine, but a few days ago, for whatever reason, mental calm pervaded quickly (if not briefly). Each time I am able to relax into the situation, I learn something new about it....information seems to come in waves throughout life; when repeating the same activity, you will gain new perspective upon it. Regardless, a bit of the meaning of what I realized was infused into the last few paragraphs, but essentially it was that the breath embodies both of our human functions within the universe. When breathing in, I effectively breathe the world into myself....taking in its objects, thoughts, sensations, triumphs, and maladies. My body processes them in what way it sees fit, which usually I ask for minimal oversight on, and stores them accordingly. Then, breathing out, I release these transformed impressions back into the world in the form of new thoughts, new actions, new objects and achievements. Essentially I am a processing agent for the universe, perpetually draining it and destroying it, invigorating and renewing it. I see how easy it is to lose control of your own thoughts, your own processes, and in some small way this is doing the world a large injustice. If you find the ability and the strength to maintain focus, to output something equal or better than what you take in, it will transform everything around you.

To breathe is an art form; to breathe is life. Our breath is the breath of the universe.