Breathing In, Breathing Out

I sit on my cushion, saguaro to my left, oleander on my right, with a palo verde tree’s delicate, green~hued branches arching above. It is that sweet time just before dawn when all still sleeps. The desert air chills my face, but with my shawl tucked around my legs and a blanket hugging my shoulders, I am warm.

My husband and I have come on retreat to the Sonoran Desert. Our temporary home is the teeniest of campgrounds just outside Saguaro National Park. As I sit in the predawn hush, my mind stills and I open to that which is greater than myself.

Except that my mind doesn’t stay still. It twists and turns, and my attempts at opening feel forced. I soon realize that, though I know better, I’m trying to recreate an experience of several mornings ago, when I woke about the same time, sat on this same burgundy cushion, and expanded delightfully beyond myself and my small concerns.

My journal entry from that day refers to the morning’s meditation and the “good start on my column” that came from it. Unfortunately, that “good start” was not put to paper, and has now exited my brain for parts unknown. Hence, the attempt to turn this meditation into that meditation, in hopes of finding that germ of a column again.

With my next inhalation of crisp desert air, I breathe in the awareness of how often I reject what is, as I grasp after what I’d like it to be. With the exhale comes an acceptance of this very human tendency and compassion for how, in resisting what is, we make our lives much harder than need be.

With that simple practice, one that spanned a single respiration cycle, I find I can more easily let go of reaching for what has already moved away from me, relaxing instead into what is here now.

This small technique has become a dear friend to me. When I’m conscious enough to let that friend guide me, whatever my reaction~~embarrassment, fear, anger, judgment~~I am able to breathe it in, just as it is, without prettying it up or justifying its occurrence. And I then breathe out compassion, for myself and for us all.

This morning’s meditation ended several hours ago. I’ve just laid under that green~barked tree, losing myself in the golden glow of branches lit by the afternoon sun, prayer flags fluttering in the breeze, blue skies beyond. I breathed in the sheer delight of doing nothing. And exhaled that joy into the web that cradles us all.

And through that web comes this wish for you, dear reader. Whatever weighs heavy on your heart, may you breathe it in, simply as it is, without embellishing or minimizing. May it remind you that you are one of us, a human being doing your very best.

And on the outbreath, may compassion flow, for yourself and for your fellow travelers through this world.

Much love,

Leia