Being, Breathing, and Meditating with Kristin McGee

On breathing

“But I do it all the time,” said bird.

“Doesn’t that seem like it might be a good reason then,” asked bear, “to pay a little more attention to it?”

…
📷: Parts + Pieces of Rainbow Bubblicious and The Jacobsen
…

It’s fall, I’m seven, and it’s cold.

I bring my hands to my lips, cupping them and blowing into the space between my thumbs.

I feel it then: a universe held in the palms of my hands.

I blow again, and unlock my fingers – watching my breath become cloud, one that appears then disappears before my eyes.

The chill returns, so I cup my hands again and blow; eyes closed, rosy cheeks smiling, lost and found in the magic of breath and body and air.

Last night, I sat with @kristinmcgee, listening as she shared her centering thought during an acceptance meditation:

“Only this breath.”
“Only this moment.”

“Only this breath.”
“Only this moment.”

“Only this breath.”
“Only this moment.”

And you open your hands to let now rest there.

And you open your hands to gently hold little you and big you and every you between.

And you open your hands to receive, to accept, to honor:

The hurt.
The joy.
The confusion.
The grief.
The clarity.
The hopes.
The fears.

Everything. And nothing. This now. Your now.

Blowing gently on your palms, your breath mixing with air, touching skin, catching wind, connecting you with me and me with you.

Today, perhaps breathe a little more deeply, here and there.

Today, perhaps hold your now a little more softly; warming it with care.

When you cup your hands and blow, what arises for you?