A meditation in the mess

‘I trust myself.’ That’s what my daily affirmation says. And that means in the darkness, not just in the light. You’d think after spending so much of my life here, that it would be familiar territory. But the panic claws at my throat, and the old fears swirls too close around me. Dare I call it an old friend? Will it somehow see less menacing if I do?

“What do you want? What are you so afraid of?”

But it’s like yelling into a strong wind, and my words are thrown away, hastily batted aside before they can be answered.

How can I trust myself when my heart is racing and my thoughts and emotions spiral out of control? It wasn’t so many years ago, that I tried to impose control from the outside, when I used my body against myself. But I know better now. I know I must seek the calm within. It feels so deeply buried today, yet I know it is there, somewhere; I have found it before. Frantic digging will not find it; it must be approached with a gentle mind. So, I close my eyes. And I breathe, in and out, trying to smooth ragged edges, and to let my lungs take control.

In.

And out.

Slowing, steadying.

I ignore the whirl of my mind, and listen to the hypnotic breath of my lungs. I tune into the cool breeze ebbing and flowing in my nostrils.

In.

And out.

Slowly, my body stops fighting against itself; my legs unfurl, my shoulders drop.

In.

And slowly out.

The breathe provides a base rhythm for my pattering heart, and it, too, slows, steadying my body.

In.

And out.

I draw awareness to the way my body is anchored in this chair. I feel the texture of its fabric pressed against my skin. My weight sinking lower as I slowly breathe.

In.

And out.

The darkness is still here, I can sense it around me, but it is kept at bay for now, unable to reach in and snap against my mind.

In.

And out.

Our breath sustains us, steadies us, anchors us. Our breath ties us, to our surroundings, the place of our existence, and to the Divine – the One who first breathed Life into us, fresh and new.

In.

And out.

The Spirit came at Pentecost with the sound of rushing wind, metaphorically bowling people over. And it comes in the still, small voice, the whisper riding our very breath.

In.

And out.

.

In.

And out.

It stills me. Centres me. Anchors me down once again.

Both in.

And out.

Body and mind, loosened, slowed; reset into the simple rhythm of the breath, the simple rhythm God has given us for our existence:

In.

And out.

I return again to the simple rhythm God has given us for our existence: In. And out.

Original photo by Sarah Dorweiler.

 


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Our breath sustains us, steadies us, anchors us. Our breath ties us to the Divine. (Click to tweet.)

Return again to the simple rhythm God has given us for our existence: In. And out. (Click to tweet.)

 

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