On becoming friends with my breath

Along with the tears, there is the breath. I have been thinking about the breath since yesterday, writing about the diver in murky waters. I have been thinking about diving again, after many many years. But that is also another story.

For the first time in my life, I am really making friends with my breath. I had asthma as a young child, and have horrible memories of lying in bed through the night, listening to my own wheezing, my whole body filled with fear. Hearing my own laboured breath has always been something that has evoked panic in me. For many years, I have never been able to go anywhere without an inhaler in my bag, having them stashed in places all around my house and in my car.

Since coming to Oman, this has all changed gradually. I found the best asthma doctor on the planet. When he met me, he said, "Stefani, you are on the Morris Minor of medications, we have to change this immediately, I'm going to give you the latest BMW model!” He gave me a groovy little purple disc thingie and that was the first step.

My geologist friends have never paid any attention to my fears and encouraged me to do as much as I can when I am with them. How wonderful to be with people who had no judgement, which led me to cancel all the judgements on myself. Gradually I learnt not to fear my breath racing, but rather to experience it as a sign of my own life force, to trust it as a flame burning deep inside.

And so I started walking more; and then with the loved one coaxing me out onto the corniche here by the sea. He has also encouraged me to walk in the mountains, giving me the special Christmas gifts of walking boots and walking poles. I am so happy to say that the sight of a hill in front of me doesn't scare the living daylights out of me anymore! My housemate from heaven has also encouraged me greatly, and the 3 of us have had some wonderful unforgettable wadi experiences together. I used to labour across rocks and stones, and now I am learning to actually enjoy the challenge: the mountain goat- Capricorn- in me is coming into her own!

 Now the three of us are doing yoga together, and my breath keeps expanding and increasing. I am growing closer to my own life force than ever before. I have always known that this is the spark in me that connects me most directly to my Creator, and now I am really experiencing that so intimately. I am so grateful for this natural instinct of breathing that I do not take for granted, which I am learning to cherish and to nurture.

And now, when I am alone with my breath in the dark, she is a comfort to me.

I wonder what it is that comforts you in the night?

On seeds long buried

The loved one and I have this thing, "Even when we are not happy, we are happy". It is hard to be happy in the midst of this present haze, and I am shedding many tears, but they feel like good wholesome tears, tears of catharsis, tears that are like penetrating drops of cleansing rain, washing the windows of my soul. They come suddenly, silently, at all times of day and night, sometimes with a deep sadness and sharp little piercing aches of the heart. Old hurts healing and a lot of letting go, letting go, letting go.... every day, letting go. 

I am not putting any judgement on them, just tasting them as they come and blessing the process and knowing that they fall on seeds long buried deep, seeds that now need to germinate and peek their teeny green shoots out of the earth that is my life. I know this is happening because I am ready. But what it is, that is happening, that is still a mystery. I am waiting patiently; holding the faith, hope and love close to my heart.

Wishing you too sense those long buried dreams, longing to come to fruition. And embrace this beautiful fragile mystery which is life.

stepping stones and stillness

Since last week the vertigo is on me, or in me, or over me, and the world is whirling in slow motion around me. I looked Louise Hays', "You Can Heal Your Life", the one I could not get away from when I was growing up. My crazy healer mother always had some annoying observation to make: Sore throat, "So what are you not saying, my Blom, spit it out!" Sore tummy, "So what happened at school that you cannot digest, come on, tell!". Other mothers went to the chemist. My mother went to the famous little blue book ( which I have inherited of course) and then left me to my own devices. She didn't know what to do when I was sick. Mostly sent me around the neighbour's house for Wendy, my mother number 2, to do something practical. Getting ill to get attention certainly wasn't a tactic that worked in our household.

 So, the book says 'Flighty scattered thinking. A refusal to look'. So this is what I am asking myself. What am I not looking at?

I feel like a diver in murky waters, just my own breathing for company. I wake up in the night, turning in my sleep, feeling I am going to fall out of bed, my heart fluttering in my chest. I am wandering aimlessly  through misty woods, the undergrowth crunching under my feet, the fingers of fog damp on my cheeks, I feel chilled and unable to focus.

I suddenly remembered a time like this many years ago, on a visit to Ireland. It was a magical visit, a pivotal time in my life, and I experienced some extreme dejavu, but that is another story.

A magician of sorts crossed my path and encouraged me to be be still for a while and get out of my head into my heart. He led me on a visual journey and I found a place inside that I still I go when I am anxious. I had forgotten about that place till just a few days ago, and it is like reconnecting with an old friend. I am crossing a vast wide river using stepping stones. The torrents are quite fast and the water very clear, round slippery pebbles on the bottom, always varying depths. I can't see the other side, and sometimes the next stepping stone is not visible to me.

This means, instead of panic, it is time to be still, sit down on the rock, stick my toes in, listen to the gurgling, gentle churning, of the water and come back to myself. One thing is sure, always sure, the next stepping stone will reveal itself.
This is where I am now, sitting on the rock in the middle of the river, just waiting and being and knowing that the path will be shown to me.

And also thinking about another old friend, TS Eliot, this from his Four Quartets:

I said to my soul, be still,
and wait without hope, for hope would be hope for the wrong thing;
wait without love, for love would be love for the wrong thing,
there is yet faith-
But the faith abd the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought,
for you are not ready for thought;
So the darkness shall be light, and the stillness the dancing.

Amen.

Wishing you stillness today, and dancing.