About a week ago, a friend shared this breathwork video with me.
I already do a regular breath practice, so didn't rush to it... but, unable to sleep, I just dove in. Maybe 7 minutes in, I burst into tears. Giant. Booming. Flood.
Because BREATH IS LIFE.
* If confronted with mask-wearing, breath is life.
* If confronted with respiratory illness, breath is life.
* If confronted by a knee to the neck, breath is life.
I cried for the ways breath has been challenged.
Then, I noticed how close their knees were. The instructors'.
I started fixating on how, surely, they must be able to sense and feel each other's knee... not even needing to touch. Just, nearness.
And I realized how improbable it is that I will feel someone's knee close to mine like that, and I lost it. GAVE IT ALL UP.
The sinking fear that my chance to know closeness -- of knee and soul -- will come again.
I have romanced myself so extensively, for so long, I have now forgotten what it is like to do so with another.
So I grieved that, too. And by the time my face dried, I realized how very good it is that I am able to go through these extreme changes with only feline company.
And I also thought that single empaths who live alone must be having lots of stop-drop-and-cry parties these days. FEELING ALL THIS CRAP TO THE NTH DEGREE, while beliefs, structures, and systems, are all wobbling.
Well, feeling it IS healing it.
Let yourself cry hard, as often as you need to.
And, breathe deep.
Love to all. 🌺
Belize City, BZ