For the past few weeks I've been writing about grief and about Healing Touch. Those two have been woven together in my work for a long time. This week I want to tell you where my attention is drifting, because it keeps drifting there, and I'm learning to listen when that happens.
It's breath.
Breathwork has been circling me for a while. It shows up in a conversation, a book, a moment in the middle of a hard day, and then I tuck it away in the back of my mind where I keep things I'll get to "someday." But it keeps coming back. At some point I had to admit that something that returns this often isn't peripheral. It's asking for a place at the table.
Part of why I'm able to say yes now is that I'm not training for anything at the moment. My running has quieted, and that has opened up space I didn't know I was missing. I don't think the timing is accidental. Sometimes Spirit makes room before we've even asked, and the invitation is simply to notice the opening and step into it.
So starting October 12, I'm beginning a six-week study of breathwork. I'm not pursuing a certification right now. I want to understand it more deeply: what is actually happening in the body, why certain patterns settle us and others stir us up, and how to offer it gently to others, including in grief groups where people are carrying so much and often don't know where to put it.
The part that connects to everything else, the thing I'm working on most, in my own life, is being present. This is not about "performing presence", but actually arriving in the room I'm in. My days are full, and it's easy to be in one conversation while my mind is already in the next one. What helps me is small and humble. Before I walk into a conversation, I take one slow breath, in for four, hold for two out for eight. Then I quietly name what I want to bring and what I need. Breathe, bring, need. That's it. It takes about fifteen seconds, and it changes how I show up.
I've come to think breath is the most available form of presence we have. It's already with us. We don't have to buy it, schedule it, or get it right. It's the one thing that's always happening in the present moment, which makes it a faithful doorway back to the body, and the body is where grief lives and where healing begins.
If you've been feeling scattered, braced, or far from yourself lately, try it right now. Breathe in for four. Hold for two. Let it out slowly for eight. Then notice what's here.
I'll share what I'm learning as I go. In the meantime, I'd love to hear from you: when do you most lose your presence, and what helps you come back?
Honored to walk with you,
Erin
