Permission to breathe

Yoga has been one of the practices that has most sustained me throughout the pandemic. While I had occasionally practiced yoga prior to a November pulmonary embolism diagnosis, the practice took on new and urgent meaning in the aftermath of that health crisis. I needed to rebuild my cardiovascular endurance, and thought yoga would be a gently loving way to do so.

When a dear friend invited me at the beginning of this year to join her on a 30-Day yoga journey, I decided to give it a try. Dozens of downward dog, mountain, and child's poses later, this practice has become an anticipated part of my day; an opportunity to put on pause whatever I am doing to focus my attention on my breath.

Yoga uses various breath techniques to ground the body in the present pose and the mind in the present moment. My favorite technique, and the one I find most helpful, is called ujjayi —ocean — breath. This breath mimics the sound of waves cascading onto the shore and then slipping away.

In. And out. In. And out.

When I practice ujjayi, I can feel my whole nervous system begin to settle. Then my muscles relax. My face softens. And sometimes, often when I least expect it, my spirit lifts, and I can sense God's presence. It is such a simple and wise practice: even a few deep ujjayi breaths can set me aright. I return to myself, and from that centered place, I become more attuned to the divine, and to the people around me (in person or otherwise!)

My practice reminds me that Spirit is always there, closer than our own breath, waiting to encounter us in every single moment. Sometimes all it takes is a pause. A stilling. A return to our beloved bodies and the sacred breath.

I wonder, this Lent, how God might be inviting you to return? What practice might be helpful for paying attention to the Holy in this moment? Can you give yourself permission to breathe?