Breath is an interesting rhythm. I have noticed in myself and many others how discomfort makes shallow, breathing’s rhythm. I have noticed in myself and many others how joy deepens breathing’s rhythm.
I have noticed far too much discomfort compared to joy, except perhaps in children not yet schooled by adults in life’s harsh ways.
We adults are charged with keeping the engines running—we think so anyway. I suspect, though I am very busy sometimes with that which is merely busy though seemingly necessary, that we humans are not so satisfied with letting well enough alone.
In actuality, I count that as a good thing—at least in the sense of stimulation, of not waiting for other rhythms to dictate all we do. We are a force of nature, not just the recipients of a force of nature.
I noticed this, again, when I sat in my Jacuzzi, again, in the pouring rain. It was cold and I was warm. The idiot dog owners’ dogs were quiet, huddled where they could, I imagine, avoiding the wet. It was a very still night, save the pouring rain, which the earth and rooted beings seemed to reach up to greet. And I as well.
I noticed my house and marveled that I have hot and cold running water. There is food and places to keep it. There were logs burning in the fireplace, circulating warmth and shelter from the cold. I have a good bed—actually an outstanding one—with a down comforter. I can be warm and dry and thoroughly settled in, though the rain comes down in occasional torrents and the cold air, heavy as it is, tries to find a place itself to thoroughly settle in.
I am the steward of a large family of rooted beings, all, save a few native shrubs, planned and planted by me or those I paid to help. Those rooted beings provide shelter and food for many winged ones that have taken up residence. And four-legged beings as well. And some of the kind that move by slithering.
I have had to work to make my “encampment.” I have had to be a force of nature and not just subject to nature’s force. But in my creations, I cannot so insulate myself from the forces besides myself—I may be safe in my creation, but the force of me is no match for a nature gone wild. I know this and I know it was good to sit in the Jacuzzi and to go inside my shelter and to savor some food and a bit of wine. The rain and the cold don’t mind. And I will not forget.
I don’t know how others were breathing that night or what they were thinking and feeling. I guess there are many different attentions about it all. I did know how I was breathing that night, as I do now in this writing—it is deep and full and prompts a thankful grin. It is the best health care I can imagine.