Faith, Family, & Focaccia

A faith and culture Mommy blog, because real life gets all mixed together like that.


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The Balance of Breathing

rock balancing

Photo by Pille Kirsi on Pexels.com

The Spirit is whispering behind my ear –

Divine respiration-inspiration, Ruach, Pneuma

calling me to draw her in,

draw close,

draw breath,

to share the air She spills out from her generous soul,

to train my lungs to dance the rhythm of Creation.

Persistent inhale-exhale of all life.

 

I need to practice, to re-learn, the litany of breathing:

in and out in sacred balance,

call and response,

receive and give,

embrace-release,

let Her inside and speak her name aloud.

 

The rhythm is so simple,

the common language of all animal and vegetable life.

Whatever else our differences, we all share this:

this in and out;

this every minute interchange of CO2 and Oxygen;

inevitable partnership;

most basic pattern in the dance of life.

 

But, my step stutters.

I’ve lost the cyclic rhythm,

forgotten that with every hungry gasp

must follow gift;

that each exhale must leave me empty,

needing to refill.

 

Sometimes my breath gets stuck in inhalation.

My lungs don’t have capacity for infinite expansion.

I cannot hold it all,

and, if I try, I will explode,

betrayed by my blind greed for more.

More knowledge,

or experience,

or lies that whisper my deep worth is measured by inflation,

the ability to hold it all.

And so I keep inhaling ‘til I start to shake

with fear, exhaustion, grief for my own limits.

 

But, also, I can err in breathing out,

can give until I’m empty and still push for more;

can, somehow, mistake my lungs for a sweet well

replenished from within,

despite my long experience of going dry.

Or else, misdiagnose each need that eyes or heart perceive,

prescribing, as though medicine, whatever I exhale,

forgetting that I have metabolized what I took in,

and my breath carries poison intermixed with life,

which needs to be diluted by a greener source of air.

So, I must learn, again, the rocking, rhythmic step,

the dance that nurtures life in every form:

the in and out in sacred balance,

call and response,

receive and give,

embrace-release,

let Her inside and speak her name aloud.

 

The partner-dance of Spirit-breathing life.


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Balance

They tell me I’m supposed to find a balance:

between work and play

between rest and responsibility

between activity and contemplation

between care for others and restorative care of self.

And

sometimes all this balancing just feels like one more task I must perfect.

Or else,

all the delicately balanced weights will all come crashing down.

But perhaps

the goal is not the static stillness of a balanced scale.

Perhaps the object I must balance on is actually a swing,

and my task is to kick out my legs,

and enjoy the ride.