On Breath and Gravity

What is it to be awake to birdsong, fresh morning breezes, the greening of life, and the scent of blooms? How better to say it than our aliveness. Every day we are called to connect, if only we slow down to notice. Lately I’ve been drawn in through two invisible forces — breath and gravity — and I wonder what might live between the two. 

I’ve been carrying these as if each is in a hand — one light, the other heavy — both ungraspable. It wasn’t until the other day, when I was lying on the Earth, that I had a full release into both simultaneously, which revealed qualities of embodiment, belonging, and surrender as a unifying experience. 

In resting my body on the Earth, I feel the touch points of where my body meets the body of the Earth. I settle into a sense of trust in this support, to feel myself being held and in that, an invitation to release any tension in the body, mind, or heart, any resistance against gravity. This subtle tension is mostly here out of habit and largely goes unnoticed unless I scan my body for the places that are holding. It is as if the body is bracing itself in this world.

All the while, the breath comes and goes. With the steadiness of the Earth beneath me, I find comfort in the steadiness of the breath, this rhythm of the breath that breathes itself. With each in-breath there is a sense of buoyancy, of lifting skyward — just for a moment. We know this feeling too when we hold our breath and float on water, the very water that gravity holds to the cradled shape of the pond. 

The invitation to surrender comes with an invitation to trust, and to be in relationship with ourselves, the living world and our planet. With each out-breath, we surrender not only that breath, but the weight of our body to the Earth.

The rhythm of the breath connects us, in what I call natural reciprocity. It connects us to all of plant life in this dance between carbon dioxide and oxygen. Our interconnection and interdependence is known through the breath. And it’s the same for all aerobic life. The deer, mouse, whale, moss, trees, and cyanobacteria, all participating in natural reciprocity with the air that we all share. The very air that I draw in to speak is the same air that the bird draws in to sing. 

Gravity, then, is the natural attraction toward the earth that offers a natural affinity toward belonging. 

Gravity — the gentle pull of home. 

The importance of embodiment in a disembodied world cannot go understated. Zen Master, Thich Nhat Hanh, reminds us: 

"The practice is to breathe in, stop thinking and go home to your body and relax your body. And if you can touch your body as a wonder, you have an opportunity to touch Mother Earth in you as a wonder, and the healing begins."

It is in this moment that the intimate becomes infinite. When we come home to the wonder of the body, we come home to the wonder of our earthliness. Our sense of self expands to include the web of life from which we are interwoven. 

Neither the breath nor gravity ask anything of us. They continually offer an invitation to embodiment and belonging. An invitation to fully arrive right where we are. 

Breathe in — come home to the body. 

Breathe out — come home to the Earth. 

Let the Earth hold you and support you. 

Let the Earth remind you of your infinite becoming. 

You’re welcome to enjoy a guided practice On Breath and Gravity here. (4 min.)