pranayama

This week we have been asked to consider the practice of pranayama. In my time on this earth there have only been a few nuggets of wisdom that I've found I could consistently rely upon. The first was "this too shall pass." I found this was important to remember, whether something good was unfolding, or something terrible had just occurred. When I was 19 I experienced a succession of deaths, including an open casket funeral for an 18 year old, having never experienced death before, not even of a pet. It was a difficult year. But to arrive at a place where I could remind myself that this, too, would pass, I had to be able to have the presence of mind to arrive there.

More than anything, over the course of my life, remembering to breathe and to look up, often, has saved me from completely losing my mind. I won't say it's like meditation, but perhaps it is a little bit like a magic spell, once invoked, that creates a little space and a bit of freedom in an otherwise overcrowded landscape populated with deeply unruly thoughts and emotions. Breathe and look up. It's so simple, really. But it helps. Noticing that it helped eventually led me to discover other kinds of breathwork. In yoga, I was consistently introduced to ujjayi breathing, which helped me to stay focused and present while I was practicing. Yoga practice also introduced me to kapalabhati, or skull shining breath, which produced a different effect. I became curious. There are many traditions that employ breathwork as a means of effecting change, gaining focus, moving further toward liberation. I have encountered some breath practices that produce radical, and sometimes unsettling, effects.

Of course, I do not always remember my breath. It is a continual effort to remain conscious of it, in much the same way that it is a continual effort to become and remain aware of my bodily tensions and to consciously work toward undoing them. Often, when I am physically struggling with a pose, the breath is the first thing to go. It's not that I don't breath. I do. But my attention withdraws from it and I am no longer conscious of my doing it. My presence in my own practice changes as a result. When I can stay with my breath, I am more present. And the more often I am present in this fashion, the more I find it crosses over into other aspects of my life, generally to my benefit.

Which brings me to my last little nugget, which is, perhaps, only a synthesis of the two that have come before: "This is happening." For several months, now, "this is happening" has been a sort of silent personal mantra. I am so easily compelled to try to look forward to the future or to attempt to make sense of the past, which decidedly brings me further and further away from the present. This, right now, in this moment, in my body, in my breath, in this space, is happening. It's sort of the mantra equivalent of breathing and looking up. If I can stay focused there, I can't spin out into some dramatic emotional overload (or some other kind of psychic spin out).

Given these experiences, it seems clear to me that one's state of mind, of being, is directly linked to one's relationship to the breath and the mindfulness attached to that. Like everything else in yoga school, it is clear to me that I still have a long way to go and much to learn, but furthering my knowledge of and experience with pranayama practices is possibly one of the most beneficial aspects of this particular adventure.