One Breath—Then Another
Returning to the moment, where the wild speaks
Breath is my tether to the present.
It’s the only biological process that’s both automatic and intentional.
It’s always with me—like a loyal companion.
A quiet current of universal intelligence, moving through me.
Speaking the language of my body.
There is no barrier to entry.
No equipment, and no cost.
Just devoted attention.
Like a lover lingering just a little longer for the sheer joy of it.
I remember the first time a deep breath felt like coming home.
It surprised me …
And then I took another breath just to make sure.
That’s when I realized: This will be with me always. Until it isn’t. And when it isn’t, it won’t matter anyway.
One Breath—Then Another
Sit up straight, with your back supported.
That could be a chair. Or a tree.
If possible, go barefoot.
Plant your feet firmly.
Feel your skin against the surface beneath you.
Press down. Feel the weight of your body rooting into the ground.
Now …
Gently close your eyes.
Inhale deeply through your nose.
Feel your belly rise.
Let the breath move upward into your chest, your upper back,
Expanding your ribcage.
Pause.
Let the breath fill you.
Feel the fullness.
Just notice.
Then …
Exhale slowly through your mouth.
Feel your body soften, you shoulders drop.
Let your navel draw in toward your spine.
Hold for a moment. Feel the space between breaths.
And then begin again.
If you have been disconnected from your breathing,
some of this might feel challenging.
You might notice your chest move before your belly.
You might feel urgency to take another breath right after you exhale fully.
Your mind might drift.
You might fidget.
You might get angry.
Stay and just notice.