Lately I’ve noticed myself holding my breath. Literarily holding my breath. I am not certain if this developed as an unconscious habit, or if I’m under stress, or if while under stress, I’ve fallen into a bad pattern. Regardless, this is not good.
Little babies breathe deep in their abdomens. We love to watch them sleeping, noticing their little bellies expanding and contracting. Maybe we’re touched by this because most of us adults restrict our breath to a certain degree. Stress and fear take a toll over time, so unless we’re opera singers, we tend to breathe in a more shallow manner from our chests.
We pay a high cost for this restriction because our breath is everything. It is our life force. The oxygen we take in sustains and nourishes every cell in our body. Why deprive ourselves of the full magnitude of this power?
In Hebrew, the word “ruach” is synonymous with breath. It also means spirit and wind and has a correlation with God’s creative powers.
I am trying to be more conscious about my breathing. I’ve gone to a yoga class 3x this week and done yoga 2x at home. I’ve been putting my hand on my belly to feel my stomach fill with air, and when I exercise, I’m making certain to really expel toxins through my breath. I’m making funny sounds like I used to in acting class and I’m consciously sighing throughout the day. Anything to get this breath moving and to fill my lungs with the spirit of God.
I woke up from a dream crying this morning, something I haven’t done in a long time. And suddenly it registered. Holding the breath = repression and waking up with aching bones. Breathing = release and transformation.
And so yes, I prophesy to the breath. I call on the four winds to enter and give me new flesh. And I feel the spirit come into me so that these bones can live.