An Ode to My Lungs
I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am. — Sylvia Plath —
Breathing easily and fully is one of the basic pleasures of being alive…We live in an ocean of air like fish in a body of water. — Alexander Lowen —
Before breath
Before becoming human I was a sea creature with no ability to survive on land. My mother’s pipeline of air allowed me the necessary time to rapidly accelerate the multiplication of cells that became me. In time, I took on a recognizable shape. I grew gills and wings and while still tiny I navigated an ocean made only for me. Miniscule and left to myself in darkness, I was an early explorer of the far reaches of her womb.
Upon completion, compelled like a plant reaching for the sun, I was pressed forward to distant lights. Taken from my mother’s warmth, cut free from the cord that held me in place, I unleashed a bitter cry as I greedily sucked in air for the first time.
Breathing
He said to belly breathe.
“Abdomen first. Then rise to chest till it hits your throat. Hold little bit, then go backwards. Air slowly out of chest, then belly.”
I followed his instructions, first mechanically then gradually losing mental control of the process I floated along its seesawing rhythm.
What was all this excess oxygen bringing me? Lightheadedness at first, then once stabilized I realized how much it sounded like the waves on the sea. The air I forcefully pushed through my body was oceanic, rising from the depths, surging through my windpipe, filling me up until it pushed hard against my rib cage, reaching the absolute limit where I could not possibly squeeze in any more. Holding it for a second I realized how fragile a human body is. Then, newly grateful for air, I expelled all I had inside me back to the ocean from whence it came.
After breath
While unimaginable I recognize this will be a return to something I’ve already done.
I entered life as two cells that began replicating until I grew all the necessary parts. Still not ready for what was ahead, I was safely cocooned. But my body knew when it was time to venture out into the unknown.
In the same way it will know when it’s time to send me onward. There will be a final wind rushing through these faithful chambers. A last heave-ho to nudge this tiny boat to other shores.
