Breath

Dear hearts,

Breath.

I just love the sound of the word. I just love it. I can breathe it in, I can breathe it out.

It is totally Capital letter worthy. For without it, where are we? Blue perhaps. Breathless obvi. Swooning…Certainly without the spark of life.

All those gorgeous expressions. “every breath you take” take my breath away””hold your breath” “a breath of fresh air” “catch your breath” I could go on…

Breath heralds our entrance into and our departure from this life. That first breath, the last gasp. I have seen them both, and let me tell you Dear hearts, there is not much more powerful to witness. The first seems to come as an indignant wail and the last, a terrible surprise. Extraordinary.

Breath is seductive, don’t you think? Our breath quickens when we are expectant, frightened or aroused. It reveals our anticipation, along with our heart rate no doubt. But it is our breath that betrays us. In the dark, when there is only touch to navigate, breath becomes the compass that guides the hands. The little sighs, the sharp intake that says yes, or in some cases, the breath held and then released is the only way forward.

And then there are hiccups. Not as pleasing as a sneeze, which I always think of as natures baby o. A pleasant little interruption that takes me a moment to recover from, relaxes me and always makes me wish for more…Piglet understands. Back to hiccups. This is the breath out of sync. And just when you thought they had passed, one always catches you off guard, and off you go again. ..

As a child it was our game to hold our breath and swim the length of the pool under water. If you were bold, and it was the end of summer and you had practiced all holidays, it would be two lengths of the pool. I still love diving down and then slowly coming up to the surface watching the light and the sky from a watery, fluid perspective. Where you force your breath to wait as you linger in a world that is not your natural territory. If you linger too long you begin to see stars and your ear drums start to sing.

And then there is sharing breath. Not something one does with just anyone. For Miss Mich, she shared her breath with her babies of course. Nothing is sweeter than a baby’s milky breath and innocent smell. In Miss Mich’s former life, her white Arab Jordie had the sweetest green grass breath. Gelded late, Jordie had the attitude and build of a stallion. On the ground he was a lamb. Jump on his back and it became a battle of wills that ended up the compromise of faithful companion and not the show horse. I respected him for that to be honest. He followed me everywhere. 14 hands of faithful equine handsomeness. When the wind picked up, and he took off and we all had the devil in us, his tail streamed out behind him, his neck arched beautifully and he would toss his mane arrogantly. He had a terrible ego, but he was breathtakingly good looking..Miss Mich has found one actual boy with breath nearly as good as Jordie’s. A rare thing, Dear hearts, and as a result, precious.

Lastly, I leave you with the breath of the Tantra. The yoga breath. The breath that is circular. Used in sport, this will take your breath away, give it to your partner, who will in turn give it back to you so that you see the stars and the moon and all the little fishy’s and whatever it is that you see when you go…Miss Mich holds her breath and then when she lets go…she is gone…

Enjoy Wednesday.

With breathless love
Miss Mich