The Beauty of a Good, Deep Breath

I’ve described it before-the feeling of being overstimulated- as carrying large, glass jugs of water and balancing them ever so carefully but dropping them and watching them shatter and spill anyway.

I’ve never taken the time to bring a written, poetic beauty to the feeling that comes from a good, deep breath right before the jugs fall. 

Here is my attempt.

I close my eyes. The breath rushes through my nose and into my senses. My brain soaks up the oxygen, using it to function better. To function more logically. To function with more self-control. The breath swirls around silencing the sounds, every sound. From the background buzz of fluorescent lights to the foreground sounds of dinner cooking or crowds gathering. The sounds fade away until I hear nothing but my breath in through my nose and out through my slightly-parted lips. Focus on the sound of peace.

Another breath in. Deep. And as it enters my lungs, my chest expands and the scenery around me fades. The brightness, the strangers, the clutter, the vastness, or the piles of inevitable work disappear as my breath swirls into my lungs. 

Another deep breath in. The breath enters my body and the black stains on my mind slowly melt away. The feelings of inadequacy, exhaustion, fear, anxiety, or defeat turn into Truth. 

Breath out. His grace is sufficient for me.

Breath in. He carries my heavy load.

Breath out. He is with me.

Breath in. Even the wildflowers grow and prosper.

Breath out. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

A lot can happen in just three breaths.