Breathing Again
‘I failed,’ I thought as I was leaving a Maryland pool. My body needed a reprieve and I couldn’t recount anything past the present moment as I was venturing to the gym, in need of some relief. The pool at my mothers gym (I use her pass), which is close and familiar, reminded me how much my health matters. I didn’t remember my seven-day, ‘Washington, D.C. — Only Tour’ until after I left. Being there allowed me to be in a meditative space as I sought to regenerate my leg muscles since I’ve had so much trouble recovering from an injury, now four years ago. I hopped my way down the isle feeling the brisk water rise up my chest as I entered the deep end. The water at the bay near Ocean City was more comfortable temperature-wise but was choppier. I kept going there because I felt I was called to reconnect with it. We are made of 90% of water and all this time I’ve been meditating, climbing mountains and cultivating lands, I still haven’t fully reconnected with the waters again. The thought kept bothering me. So much so, at times I would almost want to run there and dive in, except it was nighttime and way too dark.
During my travels, I made my way to a beach in the mid-western part of India where the waters rushed me out and I hadn’t quite recovered from the thought of it. They were too aggressive for me at that time, but seemingly good for surfers. I didn’t have an actual swimming suit but bought a simple outfit from the corner market and made a makeshift suit and found myself almost exposed after trying to swim there. The undercurrents were strong and my body too weak. Instead, fresh coconut water appeared everywhere and became one of the few things that brought me relief and became the primary source of my healing at that time.
As I think about failures, I wonder if that is an accurate assumption for what I’ve challenged myself to do. I’ve allowed myself to find a comfortable meeting place where I can be fair to myself and fair to the goals I set to accomplish. As I maneuver the measurable part of my goals to allow for more flexibility in dealing with all the things that surfaced and did not consider, challenges me to be gentle with myself and see this journalistic project a bit differently than fitting on a project management Gnatt chart. Maybe I needed to move the parameters so that I can breath again in my own complex, perfectionism make-up and realize I’m still a work in progress. I deserve to be able to compliment myself every so often without feeling like I’m doing everyone else a disservice by seeing things differently.
During my teachers meditation training, I learned many breathing techniques that brings pointed attention to the task at hand, providing an opportunity to feel invigorated by just sitting and breathing. As my body calls out for more for different reasons, I can’t help but to listen and offer it some alternatives to my lifestyle. Whether that be through the movement of dance, yoga, biking, swimming or walking (my other go-to’s) the combination of tools gives me the flexibility to be my colorful self as I reconnect with my nature/adventure girl and my ‘wanna-be’ yogi-centered woman; allowing me to be able to maneuver in breath to find my calm when my own high-expectations leaves me feeling captivated by a goal set to move me. As I create an artful life with my presence and remember that it isn’t only created with a pen and paper but with my ability to allow my wild and calm to occupying the same space with harmony and naturally in the company of others. This requires work, as does labeling myself as a failure for not completing a set task. When I can see where I want to place my attention, it’s an easy choice. However when life gets full and layers upon layers of what I have takes me on a ride, I must remember my breath, choose one of the tools from my arsenal bag and remember all of the swimming options Washington, D.C. has to offer – so that I can meet myself there and reconnect with my breath again, in a different way.
“The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance.” — Aristotle
