In yoga this morning, my teacher complimented my precision in executing the poses – that she could tell I was thinking about alignment etc., but perhaps I could concentrate on my breath a little more. Because after all, that’s why we’re there– to breathe. Everything else is secondary. And life, movement, etc., flows out of this breath.
This immediately resonated with me because I hold my breath all the time. I’m constantly thinking and executing and working on everything being perfect, and then, all of a sudden, I sharply suck in all the air around me in because I’d either stopped breathing or it was too shallow to do any good.
I just got a box full of final copies of my book, which arrived at my doorstep like Moses in a basket, and I’ve been thinking about the last 4 1/2 years that I’ve been working on it in one way or another (I’m pretty sure 70% of the time I was simply crying over garbled prose). I spent a lot of time holding my breath while dating, writing and editing–afraid of the outcome, the process or just doing all of it terribly wrong. I’m hard on myself about most things including dating: Why am I not married? Why am I so judgmental? Why do I gravitate toward a certain male personality that seems to break my heart in exactly the same way every. single. time?).
I don’t know if breathing is the cure, but perhaps ceasing with all this analysis and just sitting with myself and breathing and enjoying what’s around me (a finished book for Pete’s sake!) rather than try to fit it into my mold of perfection because that’s how I thought it was supposed to go, I might find pockets of peace I can swim around in joyfully.