Breathe in.

(Breathing in, I know that I am breathing in.)

Breathe out.

(Breathing out, I know that I am breathing out.) ¹

Breathe in.

(Breathing in, I know that I am breathing in and my breath is forced.)

Breathe out.

(Breathing out, I smile at my forced out-breath.). ²

Breathe in.

(Breathing in, I know that I am hearing a sound. What’s the sound? Let sound be sound.) ³

Breathe out.

(There’s that sound again. I think that I am hearing a song sparrow. Oh, wait: Let sound be sound.)

No breathing. Just the gap between breathing out and breathing in. ⁴

Breathe in.

(Breathing in, I sort of know that I am breathing in. I also sort of know that I am beginning to think about things other than my breath.)

Breathe out.

(Breathing out, I know for certain that I am thinking and what I am thinking about is my daughter Isobel.)

No breathing. Just the gap between breathing out and breathing in.

Breathe in.

(Breathing in, I know that I am thinking about Isobel who is soon moving far away to New York to begin college.).

Breathe out.

(Breathing out, I know that when I am thinking about Isobel moving far away I feel what is called “anxious” and “excited,” and also “ambivalent.”)

Breathe in.

(Breathing in, I wonder what it will be like when it is time to say goodbye to each other. When we were having brunch the other day, I asked her what her thoughts were about our upcoming trip to get her moved to and settled at college. Isobel requested that we only say goodbye once and that we don’t draw out our farewells longer than necessary, as she’ll be feeling very tenderhearted. This means that after I help her move into her dorm room I will probably leave campus immediately, missing the parents’ reception and other events. This means that once I leave campus, I won’t see Isobel again for four months. This means that I will be missing Isobel.)

Breathe out.

(Breathing out, I feel my mind slide to the side. I feel my cheeks flush. I feel my chest cave in.)

No breathing. Just the gap between breathing out and breathing in.

Breathe in.

(Breathing in, I know that I am gulping for air. That was a big gap between out-breath and in-breath! But the big airless gap between out-breath and in-breath saved me. The gap urged me back from my story about saying goodbye to Isobel to the immediacy of my breath. I smile at the gap.)

Breathe out.

(Breathing out, I know that I am breathing out. And I giggle because I know that I replaced the story about Isobel with the story about the gap.)

Breathe in.

(Breathing in, I know that I am breathing in. Wait: What’s that sound?)

Breathe out.

(Breathing out, I wonder, is that the sound of Isobel stirring? Is that sound the sound of Isobel waking up? Is that sound the sound of Isobel waking up on one of the last mornings she’ll be living here with me?)

No breathing. Just the gap between breathing out and breathing in.

Breathe in.

(Breathing in, I know that I am breathing in. Let sounds be sound. Let Isobel be Isobel.)

Breathe out.

(Breathing out, I know that I am breathing out. I smile at my out-breath. I smile at Isobel.)

 ***

1. This instruction — “As you breathe in, you can say to  yourself, ‘Breathing in, I know that I am breathing in.'” — comes from the Zen teacher Thich Nhat Hahn.

2. This instruction — smile at your out-breath — also comes from Thich Nhat Hahn.

3. The statement, “Let sound be sound,” is attributed to the Buddha. It is meant to remind us to practice being present and attending to our raw experiences rather than engaging in conceptualizations and stories about our experiences.

4. I learned about the significance of the “gap” or space in between an out-breath and the next in-breath from teachings by Chogyam Trungpa and Pema Chodron.