View From ThE Apple House

  I  laid quietly on my back in Savasana pose, sweat dripping down my face, into my eyes, and onto my mat, the result of ending another exhilarating hot yoga practice.

The room is dark , the sound of the soft breathing of women laying just as still around me.  Our eyes are closed and we are encouraged to meditate, to be still and listen to the soft music playing from the speakers overhead.  Our bodies are drenched and sore as we make our way back from the bliss of stretching, maintaining poses in vinyasa that seemed different each time we practiced them.

At different levels of expertise, we are encouraged to listen to our breathing  and silence our inner whisperings telling us we can’t do this, its too hard.  We are taught to keep going, not to the point of pain, but just above discomfort.  We may not have been running, but our bodies had just endured a marathon.  We would lay there for at least ten minutes, emptying our minds of the events of the day.

Whether Yoga is practiced alone or in a group, the process is the same.  It is just you, the mat, the poses and breathing .  Ujjayi Pranayama breathing is part of the practice, the mindful and intentional sounds of inhalation and exhalation of air through your nose, creating a rhythm to which vinyasa poses are held.   It concentrates and directs your breath to support your practice to give extra power and focus.  It slows your heart rate and tranquilizes your nerves.

Intentionally synchronizing your movements with your breath is standard for all types of yoga.  To breathe and be present, to feel so we may heal whatever ails us at that moment.

As was the norm in those days, women were taken to the delivery room and shot up with a combination of drugs designed to put us to sleep,  eliminating any feeling of labor contractions and back pain.  To  feel nothing was considered an achievement.

I didn’t know I had delivered a healthy boy until the nurse shook my arm hours later,  trying to wake me from the darkness.  “You have a boy!” she exclaimed excitedly.  I smiled and tried to find him, but was unable to focus on the bundle being held by his happy young father standing by the end of the bed.

“That’s good” I said, and went back to sleep until the next morning.

I had missed it all.  I felt cheated and vowed never to miss the birth of my child again, should I ever have another.

When I learned I was pregnant again four years later, I made it a point to take Lamaze classes and  learn how to control my breathing to withstand the pain of childbirth.

With every practice session, I learned the power of the mind and how to harness that power to trick my body into blocking pain, simply by using my breathing.  I practiced how to endure the deepening contractions as the time came closer.

To breathe, to be present, to be alive.

To feel. To just breathe.

When it was finally time, I was amazed at how strong my mind had become.

I was awestruck as I worked, breathing in and out, in and out,  slowly pushing the life inside me out into the waiting world.  I marveled at the intensity of it all and how much I was withstanding.  Deep cleansing breaths to prepare for the onslaught gave way to panting , slowly lessening as the waves to the point of discomfort, but never pain, subsided.

It was the first time I  witnessed the miracle seemingly flowing from me, heart beating in time with mine and searching for the voice that called to it daily.  As I took a deep breath and made my final push, I  felt invincible, powerful in the knowledge that Yes!  I had done this!

I was there.  I felt it all.  I gave birth to my miracle, another member of the family.

I would deliver two more times, and looked forward with gleeful anticipation of what was to come.

Breathing prepared me for the ups and downs of life, the mindfulness of endurance and the rewards of powering through.   The sameness of repetition and routine, the intentional focusing on calm and peacefulness.

So it has been with a grateful heart as I practice each day, laying on my mat covered in a sweaty mess, listening to the calmness of my soul and the soft breathing of the others around me.

To breathe fully is to live the best life you can.

Namaste.

Just breathe.