Very slowly, with the breath
Remember the Light you are
Kia Ora, Hello friend.
Thank you for subscribing to my newsletter, which will come to you from now on, on every new and full moon. I am so very glad that you have entrusted me to your inbox, and I hope that you will take a few minutes to read this. I hope to honour and respect your time. You may want to sip a cup of tea as you read. And I sincerely hope that, though this is approximately a five-minute read with some of the links to explore, you really find yourself wanting to read on.
Spring Equinox
This welcome newsletter comes to you on the 22nd or the 23rd September—Spring or Autumn Equinox—depending where you are on the planet. Welcome to this turning point in the year—a time when the length of the day and the length of the night are equal. A point of balance, where we too, are asked to find a new balance within ourselves. I hope these newsletters inspire you to find ways to come into balance, day by day, moment by moment, breath by breath.
Let me take just a moment to look at the word inspiration. It comes from the Latin inspirare—to breathe or blow into, the word itself being a conjunction of in—into and spirare—breathe. It has moved, as words do, across dialects and languages, in and out of mouths, on the breath. The Middle English enspire, very similar to the Old French inspirer. And Apple Dictionary tells me that it was originally used to describe “a Divine or Supernatural Being, who imparted a truth or idea to someone.” Literally, then, you will feel the Divine breathe or blow into you when you are inspired. Like the breath, It moves through you, lighting you up as Its message reveals something you didn’t see or know or feel before.
And it turns out that it is the breath itself that has inspired me during this past new moon and time of Equinox.
The simple act of breathing in and out. So often taken for granted, held, huffed in, or hurled out in hurting words. And, for the past six months, through a virus that destroys the tissue of the lungs and wildfires that have choked the skies, the breath is something that feels so very, very precious. Something that is essential for life, something that brings us back to a point of balance; each inbreath and outbreath, if we attend to it gently, moment by moment, quietens us down to here now, softly, slowly.
For about three weeks now I’ve set alarms on my iPhone, at 9am, 11:11am, 12midday, 1.53pm, 3pm and 6pm. The music I’ve chosen for this “alarm call” invites me into a pause. Some appointments have been interrupted by these alarms, including my Osteo having to switch one off, me lying on the treatment table face down, and her (thankfully) smiling and saying, “Oh, that’s your 11:11!”
At these times I’ve given myself a few moments to notice how I’m feeling, where my thoughts are, and if there’s any resistance to stopping doing what I’m doing. I check in with myself, and then sometimes—not every time—I slow down and breathe deeply, from my belly up into my lungs and back down again three times. Very slowly, with the breath. I have done the 11:11am pause for about two years now, as a prayer to ease the suffering of the world. The other times I’ve added just in these past few weeks. These times feel like axial points in the day. The 1:53pm holds special meaning, which I will share in another newsletter.
I’ve set these iPhone alarms as a kind of call to prayer—a gift of breath, that I imagine crossing oceans to fill the lungs of my friends across the world.
I imagine a giving and receiving of the clear air we are graced with here, sent out to my friends on the American West Coast. Friends who, for these past weeks, have not been able to go outside because of the toxic smoke, and in some cases, who have had to evacuate their homes, not knowing whether they would be returning to them or to something razed to the ground. I also imagine breathing with the trees here, Oxygen given in exchange for my Carbon Dioxide, going out to bless the great trees that once stood there and were lost.
What has inspired me to want to share this practice with you is the subtle, yet perceptible, change in me.
I am now more connected to those I love, even though they are halfway around the world. The world has become smaller and more intimate, very slowly, with each breath. We each breathe the same air. We all share the same plight. And we can create bonds of love and breath that span the globe. We are, inbreath and outbreath, breathing and living and loving and hurting and holding and healing together. We are all, in this turbulent time of death and rebirth, breathing together as one. The birth contractions of a new world can be felt environmentally, economically, socially, racially… and yet together we can breathe through them. And together we can imagine and inspire a new world of freedom, justice and equality for all. Together we can replant a new Earth where we are truly stewards, Kaitiaki, of nature, creature and each other.
The changes have not just been perceptual, but physical and emotional. Each time I paused to breathe, I became more present, more mindful, more peaceful and softer—my shoulders dropped. I held my dear friends close and came back to myself. It was something my morning yoga practice with Rodney Yee and my meditations with Vietnamese Zen Buddhist Master Thich Nhat Hanh have been inviting me into for years. Now, very slowly, with the breath, I began to feel it, not only within me, but between us. The breath, as Thich Nhat Hanh says, allows us to live and move and breathe within a mystery—a reality—that he calls “Interbeing”. That I am you are we. That this tree rooted in this earth is me. That we all are one. Alive. Breathing together. American speaker, activist and author Charles Eisenstein has taken up the cause of Interbeing, as a way of creating The More Beautiful World We Know in Our Hearts is Possible. He has also written passionately on the current pandemic in an essay entitled Coronation. It is one of the most inspiring and sense-making pieces of writing I have read in these six months since the last Equinox.
In my next newsletter
In my full moon newsletter on the 1st October, I will link you to my latest blogpost in Revelations, where I will share a story about what the breath has meant to me since I was three. I will also share more about the daily rituals of breath and balance that anchor me in the here and now, in the practice of Interbeing. Please let me know if you find these helpful. I hope they will inspire you in your own practice that takes you within and between, touched by the Breath of the Divine.
Aroha Nui, Much Love,
p.s. We have just had Maori Language Week here in New Zealand. Two inspirational videos that brought me to tears this week I include here also… One looks forward to 2040, to a more beautiful world when, in Aotearoa New Zealand, it will be 200 years since our founding document Te Tiriti o Waitangi was signed. And the other looks back to 1981, when Sir Howard Morrison, a magnificent Maori singer performed a bi-lingual version of How Great Thou Art to Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip at a Royal Variety Performance. A pivotal moment, where one of our honoured Tangata Whenua from this former British colony revealed to the current Ruling Power the breathtaking beauty and sovereignty of his Native Tongue, inspired by the Divine, soaring on the breath.