Saturday, August 11, 2007

Can You See My Breath?

You'd think, by the picture and by the title that this post would be about, perhaps, Hazel Rae taking her first ones--steps, that is. But, you forgot, this blog is primarily about ME. This is about me, taking steps. Steps to sanity, naturally. I think before Haze was born I was walking at a trot, getting through with optimism in my fingertips, taking the time deserved by each task. Holding baby boy's hand in one of mine and baby girl's hand in the other.

Then, I had another baby girl and she didn't come with an extra hand. Then, I think, when she busted through to this side of the equation, my scales were tipped too too far one way and it set off a switch that blinked in red lights *survive*survive*survive*. So with utter obeisance I began to do just, and at times only, that.

Every rope has an end, and when you reach it and it's frayed you don't accept these loose ends and try feebly to weave them back in place. You snip off the end and start with a clean edge. Then, start climbing back up and just breathe. Just breathe.

Just breathe.

Through breakfast and her dishes. Breathe through the 10 minutes it takes to put those fleecy jammies on squirmy baby. In and out. Your breath has capabilities to hold you in the space that time takes. Your mind fights against your breath catapulting you into another time: tomorrow, next week, after this year, tonight, after he gets home, after they go to bed...but life has not breathed space into this time yet and it will suffocate. It is suffocating to live where there is no air to breathe.

So breathe, now, here.

This evening, I walked outside in the dusklight for no reason--not to sweep or gather the drying swimsuits or move the chairs back. I stood on Seth's swing and let my breathe move me. In and out. of. that. moment.


Ann said...

Yes, I see your breath and my own breath has followed the same pattern. My mission, at times felt the same way but that is when Heavenly Father teaches us to appreciate the 'little things'. You are a beautiful writer (in more than one way).

Tasha said...

I can really relate to this right now Jordan.

I love reading your thoughts on Motherhood.

michelle said...

"It is suffocating to live where there is no air to breathe." Exactly.

Like Tasha, I love reading your thoughts on motherhood -- you are so honest, so introspective -- it is definitely a breath of fresh air!

Katy said...

Actually, I admit that sometimes I do just leave the frayed ends as they are, to survive. But, as with most things, once I gather enough energy again, I get around to trimming and starting over.

I love the reminder to breathe. Though I don't actually forget to breathe, I don't appreciate it like I should, taking in the delicate and fleeting moments of life, and enjoying them. Thank you.

Jason said...

All I can say is Namaste. Breath has become the baramoter of my life. Am I being reactive to life or can I just act as the moment requires. I even teach my kids Ujyai breath to help them gain composure.

I look forward to some pranayama at our yoga retreat!

Love, Melissa

Michelle said...

Motherhood has a way of making us aware of the survival mode and it's dependence on air, or a clear head and some physical space. Sometimes just stepping outside helps us survive.

michelle said...

When I first saw the title of this post, I thought you were going to say a cold snap had hit Arizona! No such luck, eh?

Jill said...

Three kids makes you and Craig officially outnumbered and it's too baby that Hazel didn't bring an extra set of hands for you when she arrived. Breathing is good.