Breathing Room

I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart:  I am, I am, I am.  ~Sylvia Plath


Six weeks. Six weeks since my surgery. Six weeks since I was wheeled into the operating room, breathing in and out, hopeful that I'd breathe well under anesthesia. Six weeks since I felt as if I could take in a deep breath and let it out fully. Six weeks since my body was whole. Six weeks of recovery. Six weeks of set backs. Six weeks of big leaps forward. Six weeks of discomfort. Six weeks of thankfulness. Six weeks of fear. Six weeks of laughter. Six weeks of profound worry. Six weeks of sincere appreciation. Six weeks to catch my breath.


It's been a tricky thing, catching my breath. As a Yoga instructor, I'm trained to breathe consciously. Obviously we all, as human beings, know how to breathe. We're born knowing. From the moment we enter the world, we are breathing on our own, if we are healthy to do so. The inhaling and exhaling process is innate. Yet, all too often, we lose our depth of breath. We are worried, we are anxious, we are troubled, we are nervous, we are frightened. We breathe shallowly, not filling our lungs fully, not releasing all the Carbon Dioxide completely. We hold onto what we shouldn't, and we don't fill ourselves with what need desperately. We go through life with clenched stomach muscles, poor oxygen levels and headaches. As a Yogini, it should be second nature to me...breathing with depth and meaning. But when in pain, when scared, when overwhelmed by life, I forget my training and sink right back into the panicky, surface breath of the devastated.


Breathing deeply has been the lifeline to which I've clung the past six weeks. During the times I've been unable to unclench my fists, I've listened to music to help me let go enough to catch my breath. My daughter created a playlist of gentle songs for me to listen to to help me relax. My husband and she bought me extraordinary Bose headphones for the hospital. The beeps, the bangs, the unsettling noises of the hospital were making my poor breath pattern even worse. The Bose headphones began their life with me by simply blocking out the harsh hospital resonance. I was able to relax slightly simply by removing the jarring and replacing it with silence. When I came home, and my discomfort was so palpable that I couldn't separate pain from my reality, the music that I was able to play on my I-pod enabled me to transport my psyche from discomfort to direction. It's very tough to breathe deeply when one feels out of control. Music allowed me to regain some feelings of governance over my body.


Despite knowing how to breathe properly, it's been a challenge for me in the past six weeks, both literally and metaphorically. Catching my breath has been somewhat like climbing a ladder. I am able to tackle one rung at a time. Yet with each rung, I realize how far I've come...but how much further I have yet to go. I still am battling some truly unpleasant obstacles to recovery. I still feel overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of what I used to do on a daily basis. However, I constantly remind myself that, instead of just looking at the illustrative wall against which the ladder is leaning, I must secure myself on my current 'rung' and turn around to face outward, and to peek downward. By looking out at how far I've climbed already, by taking stock in where I've been, I can breathe a little more easily. I can also take deep breaths to appreciate the moment in which I'm currently resting. I may not be close to my destination yet, but I've been climbing and climbing on this journey. I'm most certainly on my way. 


Breathing room is the space I need to create for myself on this journey. I need to quit worrying about whether or not I can button my jeans yet. I need to let go of my own preconceptions and guilt regarding what I should be doing at this very second. I need to come to terms with the fact that my body isn't healed yet. I need to treat myself with kindness, patience, gentleness and mercy. Perhaps then, I'll find my breath....and my voice...once more.

This Little Light of Mine...

When my teenagers were little, we had Raffi tapes in our car playing every single time we rode anywhere longer than 5 minutes away. For readers unfamiliar with Raffi, he was the ROCK STAR to the under 5 year old set from the late 1980's to the new millennium. When my son was 2, he would pick up his grandfather's ukulele and pretend to be singing "Baby Beluga", and was very serious about putting on concerts. Raffi's songs were always fun, sometimes silly, and surprisingly catchy, especially for sleep deprived parents with two children under the age of 3. We were able to drive from Maine to Boston, Vermont, New Hampshire, Rhode Island and New York, melt down free. As long as they could sing, and wiggly dance in their car seats, we considered it a successful trip. To this day, I can sing every word to "Over in the Meadow", "The More We Together" and "Mr. Sun"...with an automatic reflex to turn around and hand out small cups of dry Cheerios and Goldfish crackers.


But, one of the children's favorites on our tape was "This Little Light of Mine". Although not a Raffi original, this has always been one of my favorite spiritual songs. Sweet in its simplicity, "This Little Light of Mine" crosses all boundaries of religion, beliefs and race. Although not written during the time of slavery, "This Little Light of Mine" became an anthem of the Civil Rights Movement in the mid-1900's. The refrain is:

This little light of mine,
I'm gonna let it shine.
This little light of mine,
I'm gonna to let it shine.
This little light of mine,
I'm gonna let it shine,
Let it shine! Let it shine! Let it shine!


"Letting our light shine" is a common theme in many religious and cultural traditions. In Christianity, it can be equated with the Holy Spirit's shining within us in love and peace. In Buddhism, it can signify enlightenment. Judaism denotes light in many ways: from Chanukah's festival of lights to the recent, magnificent Celebration of the Sun. According to Hindu tradition, shining our inner light "is seen to be permeating all of existence, the universal substance of all form, inner and outer, pure consciousness". Light cuts across boundaries, and literally shines upon the pure, the lovely and the truth. In 1st John in the New Testament, the apostle speaks of "walking as children in the light". What a beautiful image that is! Letting our own prejudices and areas of discomfort aside, to simply walk in divine light, allowing it to shine upon us, and within us, wherever we go is an exceptional vision. Imagine if we could live our lives, always allowing that light to shine...both inside and out! Love, joy, peace, compassion, childlike fun, friendliness and every positive attribute can shine over us, and from us, at all times!

The next stanza of "This Little Light of Mine" contains the repeating phrase, "Don't let anyone blow it out! I'm gonna let it shine!". While the tune is still bouncy and catchy, the words are far more serious. How often in life do we allow our circumstances to "blow our light out"? When we are tired, overworked, stressed, anxious, heartbroken, betrayed, burdened or grief-stricken, it's awfully hard to keep that light shining. When another person snaps at us, criticizes us or speaks ill of us to others, our light can dim to the point of being blown out. We find ourselves depleted. Our spark may be extinguished out in one massive blow, or it could take many little 'puffs' of disappointment, hurt and negativity. But, somehow, that light shining within us is just as gone.

So, what can be do when our light has blown out? We can light it ourselves. We don't have to wait for another person's affirmation to light it. We don't need the approval of those who broke our hearts in the first place. We can find ways that feed our spirits on our own. Everyone has different ways to keep their light shining. For me, my wonderful Episcopal church helps kindle my light every week, as well as my Yoga practice, reading good books and playing with my animals. My friends are exceptional too...even though I only have a few friends living in my local area now, keeping in touch with those precious to me, always adds a spark of love to my day. I have one friend who has told me that her long runs and gardening are her 'medicine' to keeping her "light" going. Another finds that taking classes in the evening on completely random subjects that interest her (from sewing to book groups to Thai cooking classes) keeps her spark kindled by learning new things.

As a wife and a mother to teenagers, I'm often the light provider. I need my own ways of recharging my emotional and spiritual "batteries" to be there for my family. It's a bit like that old commercial in which the mother is sick, lying in bed with a horrible cold, and the family is all standing around, staring at her, perplexed, and saying "What do we do? Mommy always takes care of us?" All too often, we put ourselves last on the list for 'building up'. We support our partners, our co-workers, our children, our parents, our extended families and our friends. We shine our light by smiling, helping, loving, listening, laughing, praying and genuinely 'being there' for others. This is a wonderful piece of who we are, and we shouldn't stop ourselves from expressing this light. Yet, unless we remember to put "oil in the lamp", we will be without the light for everyone.


Find the light that works best for you and bask in it. Allow it to fill you up, and shine from your heart. Don't let anyone blow it out...you're going to let it shine. Let it shine. Let it shine. Let it shine.

Forever in Blue Jeans

Money talks, But it don't sing and dance And it can't walk. As long as I can have you here with me, I'd much rather be Forever in blue jeans. ~ Neil Diamond

Every now and then, I will find myself humming the above referenced Neil Diamond song. While Mr. Diamond was popular before I really came of age, I have to admit to being a fan of his music. Yet, "Forever in Blue Jeans" represents a a life philosophy so close to my heart that the words are completely embedded in my soul and in my closet. I am, most assuredly, a jeans woman. I love my jeans. I dress them up with heels and fancy tops and jewelry. I dress them down with Uggs and cozy sweaters. I wore jeans to take my children to the park when they were little, and to have coffee with friends, as we laughed and cried together. Jeans are my wardrobe mainstay and I'd be lost with my access to Lucky Jeans stores.

However, jeans aren't just about what I put on my body. It is true that many women would rather find their perfect fitting pair of jeans---that maximizes their assets and camoflagues their faults---than they would to find a good date for a Saturday night. The perfect jeans, that fit as if they were made specifically for you are the Holy Grail of the shopping world. And, when we discover that magical pair that posesses all the alchemical possibilities to make us feel tall, slim and beautiful, we reach a state of shopping Nirvana. Yet, the attitude behind a jeans-based wardrobe and life philosophy is not materialistic, once you find your denim soulmate.

Having a favorite pair of jeans, and living in them throughout your daily life, can say a great deal about your life philosophy. As opposed to wearing the Little Black Dress or the Business Suit, wearing jeans can show the world that you believe in comfort, in freedom and in dressing to please yourself, not others. Perfectly worn in jeans can mean that you aren't a slave to fashion, but prefer to set your own standards. Will Rogers once said, "I don't feel comfortable any place my dog and my blue jeans aren't welcome." I adore this sentiment and agree with it wholeheartedly. Wearing jeans can mean that you are down to Earth, believe in an open heart and a personality that says "I am comfortable with who I am, and I don't need to dress up in a costume to pretend to be myself."

This, of course, doesn't mean that we should only wear jeans, and never wear anything else. I do not mean to imply that people who aren't comfortable wearing jeans are in any way less evolved than people who do. But, I can say that there was a time in my life in which I simply couldn't wear jeans and feel at home. I felt the need to "dress up" for no apparent reason, and did not feel put together unless I was wearing clothing that said "Elegant at all times". Wearing jeans I felt heavy, messy and unkempt. What I came to discover about myself was that, in jeans, I was not heavy, messy or unkempt, except in my own mind and heart. I learned that I didn't need to wear a designer outfit every day simply to present a good face to the world. What I needed to do was to excavate my soul and find the same degree of confidence and peace in my spirit, whether I'm wearing denim jeans or a silk dress. Denim whispers and says "There you are!" to those around you. Silk shouts, "Here I am !". My father, every bit as wise as Will Rogers, once to urged me to be the kind of woman who says "There you are!" to those around me. Denim can mean looking outside our own insecurities and foibles because we completely at peace with our walk on the journey. In being comfortable with our own path, we can better help others by being the kind of person who listens before she speaks.

So, wear your jeans with pride....be the kind of approachable person with whom others feel comfortable. But, most of all, find comfort within yourself, knowing that you have nothing prove, except your own level of peaceful confidence.

And, when you do find that magical pair of jeans that flatters from every angle, buy three pair.