Abdomen, chest, exhale. Abdomen, chest, exhale. One, two, three. One, two, three. Again. And again. And again. In the beginning it happens too fast but the initial discomfort fades after a while. You work through it. Soon you’re less anxious: don’t even notice the breath. That’s about the time I met the brown man.
Abdomen. He was sitting curbside on a dusty, dry, dirt road across from an old train depot. It was bright, sunny and hot: I could see the heat rising from the ground and rippling through the air. Things seemed suspended. Nothing and everything was happening all at once. And somehow it all made perfect sense. I was supposed to be there.
The notes from his guitar mixed with the cicadas and birds causing vibrations that were hard to decipher, though they so fully engulfed and engaged me that I instinctively knew they were there. I sat down next to him, trying hard to understand. He nodded, smiled never missing a beat.
Chest. It was the deep, dark, penetrating eyes that eventually over powered everything else. They were all there was. He didn’t speak: instead he hummed a low, melodic tune, familiar, yet moving in new directions all at once. I stared intently.
Without speaking he nodded and said, “Use mine.” I found myself staring at his fingers, as they easily, rhythmically, and so naturally danced through chord progressions. The sound was so clean and pure. “Thank you.” Seemed to seep out from my very soul. He leaned into the sound and smiled, “Whenever you play,” he glanced at his fingers, “just borrow mine.” I was so grateful I started to weep. And all at once I understood.
Exhale. We sat together and listened to the vibrations. After the longest while the cadence shifted and somehow I knew it was time for me to go. I didn’t want to leave, not yet anyway. He smiled as if to say, “Were always here, just need to open the door.” And at that very moment I knew. I knew then and there, with a fierce certainty, that I would be back: that I’d find my way: that I am always welcome on that dry, dusty road: that I am somehow a part of it. And it is part of me.
So, with that, I left…Abdomen, chest, exhale.
Abdomen. Chest. Exhale.
Phew…Pranayama Breathe class on a Sunday afternoon…Onward – >
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